“Yeah. I can’t wait,” I murmur with tight fists.
Trisha reaches into her purse and pulls out a folded note written on crappy motel stationary. “She asked me to give this to you.”
I snatch it from her fingers, and she walks past me, rolling her suitcase behind her as she goes. “Bye, honey,” she says, blowing a quick kiss at me.
I forget she exists as I tear the note open.
It’s for the best.
The letters blend together and the words become meaningless as I read it over and over again.
It’s for the best.
Like hell, it is.
I barge back into my room to grab my phone, practically ripping the charger out of the wall as I yank it free.
This isn’t right. It’s not fair. We could have sat down together and worked this out. We could have come up with a solution; something that would have given us what we both wanted.
I call her number, pressing the phone so hard against my head it hurts.
Daisy came back into my life for a reason. I have to believe that. Otherwise, what was the fucking point to all of this? Some sort of messed up karma? To teach us a lesson about the dangers of casual sex? What was all of this for if it wasn’t to bring us together to be a family?
It rings repeatedly, mocking me with that dull tone until her voicemail finally picks up.
“Hey, you’ve reached Daisy Hawthorne. Leave me a message if you’re into that kind of thing, you freakin’ weirdo.”
I inhale a deep breath, preparing to unload on her but I stop with my eyes locked on her note.
It’s for the best.
Her decision was made the second she stepped off that bus. I could scream and shout at her. I could demand she come back to me but that wouldn’t change the outcome.
Daisy is right. Trisha is right. It doesn’t matter how much being in the major leagues will provide for her and our child. All the money in the world won’t make up for the fact that I won’t be there. Five months out of the year isn’t enough to be a good father. I’ll miss everything. I’ll experience my child second-hand through photos and videos. Would it even recognize me when I do show up?
I hang up the phone without saying a word.
Daisy promised that she’d find a good family for it. Maybe that’s why we found each other again; to put her on the path to finding the best life for our child.
Even if that doesn’t involve us.
Chapter 27
Daisy
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I drag my suitcase behind me up the stairs, letting it thump with each rising step. My neighbors won’t be happy with me, but they haven’t had to hear me do a damn thing for months. They’ll live.
“Yes, Rose,” I say into the phone. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
I stop in front of my door to look for my keys. “It took three — no…” I try to count in my head, “four different buses to get me home from fucking Virginia. It’s late, I’m tired. I’ll probably take a long, hot shower, fall into my bed and stay there for twenty-four hours straight.”
“I have a better idea.”
My door swings open in front of me and I hop back in fright. Rose stands in my doorway with her phone in her hand, grinning wide at me as I grip my heart.
“Jeez, Rose!” I inhale a deep breath. “You scared the shit outta me.”
She stuffs her phone into her pocket. “Hey, you did the same thing to me last year.”
“You didn’t have to fly all the way out here because Hunter and I split up.”
“What part of you did the same thing to me don’t you understand?” She gets a serious look in her eye before throwing her arms around me. “Also, I need to ask your forgiveness.”
“For what—”
“Is she home?”
I stiffen and Rose squeezes me a little tighter.
“I am so sorry,” she whispers in my ear. “She wanted to come with me and I couldn’t talk her out of it and she wouldn’t let me call you—”
“Daisy?”
Rose releases me and takes a step away as I stare into my apartment.
My mother stands by the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest; tall and strong as she always has been. She looks just like me and Rose, plus about twenty-five years of ball-busting experience.
I swallow. “Hey, Mom…”
“You look different,” she says, regarding me with a furrowed brow. “Have you gained weight again?”
Here we go…
I release my suitcase and let my other bag drop to the floor. Thirty seconds. I haven’t been here for thirty seconds yet and she’s already berating me like a damn child.
Fuck this.
“Actually, yeah,” I say with my head down. “I have gained some poundage. Mostly in the mid-section area because I’m pregnant — inching on five months now.”
Rose touches my arm. “Daisy…”
“The father is a baseball player — not that it really matters. We broke up. So, that’s that. Let’s see; what else is there?” I scratch my greasy head. “I got a job. It’s a good one that I kind of love but you won’t care because it’s not at some snooty law firm downtown.” I point into the kitchen. “I don’t have any food but there might be some coffee stashed in the cabinet somewhere. I honestly have no idea. I’m gonna go take a shower because I just spent about nine hours on a bus sitting next to a guy that smelled like eggs and then I’m going to bed. Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I bolt into the hallway toward the bathroom without waiting for a response and slam the door closed behind me. I rest my head on the wall, ignoring the sound of their voices whispering from the living room behind me.
Ah, crap.
Chapter 28
Hunter
29 Weeks
“Whiskey sour, please.”
I pause and glance across the bar at her. Short, blonde. Familiar but not too difficult to brush off. I give her a nod and grab a glass to fill.
It’s a slow night at the bar in Trenton but I kind of prefer it that way. This place gets hit pretty hard for the most part, but the owners can’t seem to afford to bring in more help than me and a few other employees. It’s just a temporary gig to kill time and hoard a little extra cash until spring training in March anyway.
I lay the drink down in front of her and the blonde flashes a coy smile at me. “Thank you,” she says.
I nod again and spin away from her, ignoring the obvious annoyance in her stare. It’s nothing personal. The last time I took home a girl from a bar, it didn’t work out too well in the end.
I scan the bar for new faces looking to buy drinks before I grab a few empty glasses and carry them to the sink in the corner to wash them out. My ears zone in on the television above my head but I instantly tune out the game-in-progress. Football isn’t really my game but it’s Thanksgiving weekend and that’s the only thing on.
A man behind me slams his palm against the bar, rattling his glass. “Dammit, Kirby. Come on!”
I raise a brow and glance at the television again, recognizing the name. John Kirby.
Daisy’s future brother-in-law.
I watch the game, barely following as the camera locks on his jersey. He bolts down the field with the ball in hand, expertly dipping and dodging the other team as he flies toward the end zone.
She’s probably watching this, too.
I brush the thought away and flick on the sink, trying my best to ignore the angry man at the bar.
“What’s an asshole like me supposed to do to get a little service around here?”
I spin around, recognizing the voice before I even see him. “Devin!”
He holds up his hands. “What the hell are you doing behind the bar of a dive like this place?”
I laugh. “Just a temporary situation.”
“Well, yeah. You’re on the damn roster.”
“Being on the roster doesn’t pay my
rent yet.”
“Gotta wait ‘til next season before Scrooge McDuck-ing into a pile of cash.” He mimes a dive and I chuckle.
“Something like that.”
“Well, since you’re back there, how about you give me a beer, eh?”
I grab two and set one in front of him. “It’s nice to see you, Devin,” I say, tapping the neck of my bottle against his.
“You, too,” he says, bringing it to his lips. “How’s your girl?”
I force a second sip down. “She’s not my girl anymore.”
“Really?”
“Never was, I suppose.”
“Huh…” He takes another drink.
“What?” I ask.
“Just… huh.”
I shrug. “Shit happens, man.”
“And mostly to you.”
I breathe that in. “Yes, it does.”
“But hey — you’re Home Run Hunter! This time, next year, you’ll have gone through about dozen just like her.”
I force a chuckle, staring at my beer. “Maybe.”
Just like her. I don’t think there’s anyone in this world quite like Daisy Hawthorne. I’m not sure if that’s comforting or not, though.
“And there it is,” Devin says, smirking.
I blink. “What?”
“That far-off stare she was looking for.”
I study his curled mouth, tossed to one side like a demented clown. “She?”
Devin reaches behind him and withdraws a rolled magazine from his back pocket. “Trisha sent me out here with this…”
I recognize the logo along the top with that indisputable font. Sports Illuminated.
“Did she finish the holiday exposé?”
I reach for it but Devin snaps it back.
“Now… I’m just the messenger here, Hunter…”
I pause. “What’d she do?”
“You’re not gonna like this,” he says, speaking slowly.
“Devin…” I hold out my hand, “give me the magazine.”
“Okay, but…” He slides the stool an extra foot away from me before tossing the magazine onto the bar. “Again, just the messenger.”
I pick it up and unfold it, flipping it open to the back where Trisha’s exposés usually reside. There’s a photo of me sprawled across the page but it’s not the normal athletic pose I expected.
It’s a photo of me and Daisy — one of many selfies snapped of the two of us — along with a catchy, bold-printed title.
Home Run Baby.
I grit my teeth. “What the hell is this?”
“Keep reading,” Devin says, drinking his beer.
On June 11th, 2016, Hunter Novak walked out onto the baseball field in Hartford, Connecticut and he hit a home run straight into the crowd. It’s not the first time, nor would it be the last, but this home run was special…
On that same day, Daisy Hawthorne walked into that same stadium. She sat down next to her twin sister, Rose, and watched with excitement as Home Run Hunter hit his first homer of the day. The next thing she knew, the lights went out, and Daisy woke up in the hospital with a headache and something special…
“Does Daisy know about this?”
Devin shakes his head. “Keep reading.”
Daisy Hawthorne was pregnant with Hunter Novak’s child. Sound a little far-fetched? A bit too coincidental? Well, I’m just getting started—
I stop reading. “What the hell is she doing? She can’t print this.”
“She already has…” he says. “Article goes up on the website tonight; magazine hits stands on Tuesday.”
“Tell her to pull it.”
“It’s a human interest story,” he argues. “People love this shit.”
“I could sue her for this shit.”
He holds up his hands. “I am but her humble concubine, my friend. But, if you ask me, she’s got a point.”
“A point?”
“You’re telling me that story isn’t extraordinary?” he asks. “That’s it’s not just a tad interesting?”
“You think I haven’t noticed? You think Daisy and I didn’t consider that before splitting up? That we didn’t think twice about it? We did.”
“Think about it again, Hunter. The universe is—”
“Full of shit.”
“I used to think so, too,” he says. He gestures to the magazine between us. “Then, I read that. Now, I’m not so sure and neither will millions of other readers come tomorrow morning. Think about that before you implode.”
“I don’t need to think about it, Devin.” I push the magazine away. “Daisy and I didn’t work out. End of story.”
He scratches his head and lets out a sigh. “All right. If you say so.”
I pour the last of my beer down my throat and toss the empty bottle into the bin behind the bar. Devin lays some money down to pay for them before sliding off the stool. “It was nice seeing you again, buddy.”
“Don’t forget your magazine,” I say.
He smirks. “It ain’t mine.”
He walks off, leaving it behind on the bar.
I stare at it, trying to ignore it but the heat in my face is too much.
What the hell is Trisha thinking printing something like this? And using these photos? I can only imagine how Daisy’s going to react to this. She could barely stand to look at these herself, let alone have them published for millions to gawk at.
I grab the magazine, ready to throw the thing away but I pause and lean back against the wall. I turn the page, finding more photos and more details of our days on the road together with the team.
Hunter and Daisy did everything they could to keep their affair from us, but no amount of sneaking and secret texts could prevent that look on their faces when they saw each other. Daisy’s cheeks turned bright pink at the mere mention of his name; while Hunter looked upon her as his name would suggest: fierce and protective.
I glance around the bar for customers but quickly resume reading. It’s all here; all of it. Daisy and her little baby bump. Her silly smile. My, admittedly, handsome mug. I don’t think I’ve ever seen myself so happy and just flashing back to these moments fills my gut with butterflies.
Their affair was only supposed to be one night but then fate intervened. It knew something they didn’t; something that most of us spend our lifetimes searching for but never find. If there’s one thing all of us can learn from the Home Run Baby it’s that every once in a while, we all need to look up into the sky. Rain or shine, there just might be a baseball careening down to hit us, too.
The old man growls at the television again and I glance up at the football game. Two players dance in the end zone; one being the jubilant Kirby, of course.
Fate. If I still believed in that stuff, I’d think this game was a sign. I’d think that girl across the bar shooting flirty gazes at me with a whiskey sour clenched in her hand was a sign. I’d definitely see this magazine as one, too.
But there’s no such thing as fate. There’s just coincidence.
I roll up the magazine and toss it into the trash.
Chapter 29
Daisy
Rose groans and holds onto her belly. “Ughhh,” she says, “I feel so fat.”
I look at her sitting beside me on the couch, my eyes bouncing between her taut abs and the freak show expanding beneath my sweater. “Yes, please. Tell me more about how fat you are.”
“Oh, shut up.” She chuckles. “At least you have a partner in there, eating half of whatever you do. I have to work hard to digest what I eat all by myself.”
“Then, maybe you shouldn’t eat leftover turkey sandwiches every three hours.”
“Girls, be nice.”
Mom walks in from my kitchen with a glass of ice water in her hand. She leans over and hands it to me. “Do you need anything else, Daisy?”
I shake my head. “No, Mom. I’m good.”
“Are you sure? I can grab another pillow from your room…”
“Mom.” I smile at her. �
�I’m fine. Sit down. Watch the game. Please.”
She lowers down into the armchair with her eyes on the television. “So, which one is…?”
“Number 14!” Rose shouts, pointing at the screen. “That’s my Johnny!”
I look at my twin, seeing that look of pride in her big eyes. It kind of makes me miss it a little. A sold out stadium; all eyes glued to home plate. He raised the bat and they all fell silent.
I push the thoughts away to focus on the football game instead.
It’s a bit surreal. I never expected my family to come all the way out here to spend Thanksgiving with me. I didn’t even have to ask, not that I would have anyway. My mother called to tell me when she and Rose would arrive. She didn’t want me traveling in my condition; a phrase that’s really starting to piss me off, to be quite honest. Pregnant or not, I can still take care of myself.
I wince at another sharp pain in my abdomen.
“Daisy, you okay?” Mom asks, reacting quickly.
“It’s just some gas, I think,” I say, exhaling. “Had it all day. No worries, Mom.”
She eyes me for a few more moments before turning back to the game. “Have you two decided on a date yet?” she asks Rose.
Rose sighs. “Not yet. Next summer, maybe? I should be done with grad school by then.”
“That doesn’t give you a lot of time to plan a wedding, Rose.”
“We don’t need anything too extravagant,” she answers. “My friend, Eliza, planned her wedding in like a month and it was perfect. I’m sure I can do the same, especially with her help.” She nudges my arm. “And yours. You’ll be my photographer, right?”
I nod. “Sure.”
“And my maid of honor.”
“Okay.”
“And this kid can be the ring-bearer… or the flower girl.”
“I’ll have to check its schedule.”
The Bad Baller Collection Page 51
