“Baby, they’re going to love you,” I said once again because it was true. I leaned down and kissed her cheek, then opened the door.
“Jimmy, they’re here,” I heard my mom scream to my dad from the kitchen.
Brooke tensed a little and then relaxed. Maybe it was because of her broken home and she never had parents growing up? I wasn’t sure, but I would bet money on it. Shit, maybe I should have fucked her before we left the house so she would be relaxed!
“Baby, this is my mom Jane.” I gestured to my mom who was wiping her hands on a dishtowel and coming from the kitchen.
“Brooke, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” my mom said, engulfing her in a hug.
Brooke looked a little taken aback, but then I saw her relax and embrace my mom. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Crawford.”
“Please, call me Jane,” my mom waved Brooke’s formalities off. “Jimmy!”
“I’m coming! Jesus Christ, can’t a man take a shit in his own hou…?” My dad stopped in his tracks when he saw us. “Shit, I’m sorry, you must be Brooke?” he asked, sticking his hand out to shake hers.
“Yes, it’s nice to meet you as well—Jimmy.”
“Cheyenne is up in her room. Breakfast is almost ready,” my mom said, turning to the kitchen. “Brooke, I have orange juice or coffee if you want some.”
“What? You cooked breakfast for once?” I teased.
“You know I can cook, I just prefer you doing it,” she said, patting my cheek. “Plus, we need to leave soon for Chey’s game.”
“Let me go check on Peanut,” I said and kissed the top of Brooke’s head. She seemed to have relaxed, watching the interaction of my parents and how easygoing they were.
“Brooke, I’ll show you where the glasses are. Make yourself at home,” my mom said gesturing for Brooke to follow her.
“So, Brooke. East tells me that you live in Boston. Are you a Red Sox’s fan?” my dad asked, walking with Brooke to the kitchen.
I stopped midstride on the stairs, listening for her response, but I couldn’t hear. I knew she watched baseball, but I wasn’t sure if she was a diehard fan. I almost feared for her life with my dad, but then figured he would let it slide for now until he could convince her to switch to our Angels.
I went upstairs to Cheyenne’s bedroom. Since she spent most Friday and Saturday nights at my parents, they gave her her own room. She loved it—it meant that she could have two of everything. Sometimes it backfired when she wanted to wear a certain outfit and it was at my parents or wanted to wear some sort of lucky bracelet and she didn’t have it at home.
“Peanut,” I said, knocking on her door that had a sign that read No Boys Allowed. I stared at it, waiting for her to open the door or tell me to come in. She had just told me that she had kissed a boy a few days prior, and I prayed that the sign held true. I needed to talk to my dad—we needed to go to the shooting range and practice.
“I’m almost ready,” she said from inside the door.
“Okay, Brooke is here and we’re having breakfast. Hurry up.”
“I know, Dad!”
I was in for a ride when she became a teenager. I just knew it.
My mom made banana chocolate chip pancakes (Chey’s favorite), bacon and a side of strawberries. Of course, bacon was involved; Crawfords barely go a meal without bacon. We sat around the formal oak dining room table that we’d normally only used for Thanksgiving and Christmas. My parents had a breakfast table in their kitchen, but it only had four seats. Usually, it was just the four of us and if Avery came over, he or I would sit at the breakfast bar.
Mid bite of bacon, Cheyenne came down the stairs and plopped into the empty chair across from me.
“Well, hello to you, too,” I said. “Cheyenne, this is Brooke.” I reached my arm across Brooke’s shoulders and tugged her lightly towards me.
“Hi,” Cheyenne said, barely looking at Brooke as she grabbed a pancake.
“It’s nice to meet you Cheyenne. You’re dad has told me a lot about you.”
“Uh huh,” Cheyenne replied, squirting syrup on her stack.
Why does she have an attitude?
“I like your uniform,” Brooke said.
Cheyenne’s uniform was all white with the word Lightening written in blue script with a yellow lightning bolt behind it. She followed in my footsteps and wore the number thirty-five.
“Thanks.”
“What position do you play?”
Cheyenne finally looked up at Brooke. “I don’t know. Ask my Daddy; he’s the coach.”
“Cheyenne, that is no way to speak to our guest,” my mother scolded her.
“It’s okay. My sister was the same way at ten.”
It wasn’t okay. I thought Cheyenne was excited. She seemed to be when we talked about Brooke, and she knew damn well what positions she was going to play.
“Fine, Grandma,” Cheyenne huffed. “I want to play shortstop and third base, but my Daddy said that I’m starting at third today.”
“I played Rover when I was your age,” Brooke said.
Rover was the tenth position that was created for young players to play. It was mainly in the back of 2nd base on the grass line, but used as a floater and could play in the outfield or infield as needed. Rover was used because most kids Cheyenne’s age couldn’t catch or throw well, so the player was used to shorten distance between the defense.
Since Cheyenne had started at a later age, she would only be on the team for one year that used Rover. The next year, she would be with the thirteen and under group and it was more fast pitched than what it was now. Now, the girls still threw underhand, but they weren’t fast at all.
“What did you play when you got older?” Cheyenne asked.
“I actually played a lot of positions, but my favorite was third.”
“Really?” Cheyenne’s eyes lit up.
I squeezed Brooke’s knee under the table. I knew softball was the key to open Cheyenne up.
“I did. My favorite part of playing third was diving for a line drive and catching the runner trying to steal home.”
“Wow, I’m not that good, yet.”
“You will be,” I said.
“Maybe you can teach me?” Cheyenne asked Brooke.
Brooke tensed a little. I knew what was running through her head—her tumor.
“Sure. Next time, I’ll bring my glove.”
“Awesome!”
“Eat up, Chey. We need to get you to your game,” my dad said.
*~*~*
We took my parent’s Escalade to the field. A game was already in progress and Cheyenne’s would start shortly after that one finished. It was good for Cheyenne to watch others play. I saw Phil standing on the third base side and we walked over to him. Cheyenne ran to Courtney as soon as she saw her, hugging her as if she hadn’t seen her in a year.
“Hey man,” I said, shaking his hand. “This should be fun.”
“Yeah, always is. Hey before I forget, we’re going for pizza after the game if you and…Cheyenne want to come,” he said, looking at Brooke standing next to me.
“Yeah, that sounds good. This is my girlfriend Brooke.”
They exchanged handshakes.
“I’m going to go sit with your parents.”
“Okay, I’ll see you after the game,” I said, kissing the top of her head.
She left to sit with my parents in the bleachers. They were sitting at the top; the best seat in my opinion. My parents were pros at watching games since I played baseball and football growing up. My parents had brought padded bleacher chairs, an umbrella to shade the sun and an ice chest with drinks and snacks.
As I turned to go over to Phil, I saw Avery and Nicole enter the gate of the park. I didn’t know they were coming, but I knew Cheyenne would be very happy. I walked over to Cheyenne and Courtney; they were throwing the ball back and forth, warming up.
“Uncle A is here,” I said to Cheyenne.
“Awesome!”
�
��Don’t forget to stretch.”
“Yes, Coach!”
Phil and I planned what position each girl would play. There were twelve girls on the team, ten would play the field at one time and each girl would bat. After we decided which girls would start and then rotate in, we planned the batting order.
I missed playing. I didn’t regret not going to college and playing; possibly playing in the major leagues—I got Cheyenne out of the deal and she was my world. Things have a way of working themselves out. If I were to be in the major leagues, I would probably be married to a gold digger bimbo that got pregnant on purpose to trap me.
The game that was underway when we arrived at the field finally ended and Phil told the girls who would start. Each girl ran onto the field once it was raked and ready for the next game. Phil hit grounders to the infield, warming them up and I threw balls to the outfield for them to catch. Balls rarely went far into the outfield, but we wanted our girls ready for anything. Phil and I both were trying to form all-stars.
We were home, so the other team batted first. Courtney played first and Cheyenne started at third. Another girl wanted to play third, so she and Cheyenne would switch off. Cheyenne would also switch off with the girl at shortstop, so she could determine what position she wanted to play.
I was fine with whatever, but I knew she would chose third. Dana played third and so did Brooke. Brooke could teach her things once she was well, that I couldn’t. It would be good bonding for my girls.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Brooke
My weekend with Easton and Cheyenne went better than expected. Cheyenne played extremely well, always getting on base when she would bat and only missed a few balls between her legs. I was proud of her. Easton had told me so many stories that I felt like I already knew her.
After the game, we went for pizza with her friend Courtney and her parents. Nicole and Avery showed up to the game a few minutes before it started and they joined us for pizza as well. I felt more comfortable having Nicole there with Easton’s parents and me. I really liked Jimmy and Jane, but at least they could talk to Avery and not just me.
Avery was like their second son and kinda reminded me of how I was with Nicole’s parents. Over the last few years, life just got in the way and I wasn’t around them much except Thanksgiving and Christmas. Nicole’s parents didn’t take me in when I was growing up until Nicole and I met our freshman year in high school. Those four years were the best of my life. I finally saw how parents should love their children.
Cheyenne had seemed to warm up to me a little in the short time that I was with her. I understood her hesitancy towards me, but if I just talked her language then she was fine with me. And her language was softball. It was cute. Her little world was her dad, her grandparents, softball and Courtney—not sure if it was in that order or not.
When Bailee was ten, she wasn’t into softball, but Barbie’s. That girl loved her dolls. She would dress them up, make them go on dates and of course, I bought her a Barbie Mansion for her eighth birthday. I had to save up for six months at the diner I worked at as a hostess for it, but she loved it and that was all that mattered. She played with her Barbie family as if they were real. They were her world. Barbie and Ken were married with kids and I knew why she did it, but I never said anything. I tried to tell my mother that Bailee needed her more, but my mom needed sex more than us.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to tell my mom about my tumor. Does a mother that pretty much only gave birth to her daughter, deserve to know that she may have cancer? And what would even happen? My mother was never there when I was growing up, having heartbreaks, making sure Bailee survived, and making sure we had food in the fridge.
Yeah, my mother gave us money…a hundred dollars a week to buy food, but a kid needed love—I needed love.
After pizza, Cheyenne stayed the night at Courtney’s house and Easton, Nicole, Avery, and I hung out at Easton’s for a while until Nicole and Avery needed alone time before we had to leave the next morning for home. It was nice spending time alone with Easton. We cuddled on his couch, watched a movie and then went to bed and made love until we were both exhausted and fell asleep tangled together—the way I dreamt about when we weren’t together.
*~*~*
I went to another doctor for a second opinion the Wednesday after New York at the request of Doctor Bloom. He of course said I needed to have the tumor removed. By the time I made it back to work, Doctor Bloom’s office called me to schedule my surgery. Everything was happening too fast.
I wanted the pain gone, but I was scared of having the surgery. I was scared that I might have cancer. Nicole tried to comfort me as did Easton. They both told me that once we knew if I had cancer, then we would know what we needed to do. Not every tumor was cancerous, but it was still freaking me out.
I hadn’t told Bailee about my tumor. I didn’t want her to worry. Finals were only a few weeks away and I needed her to focus. I couldn’t let her worry about me, since I had Nicole and Easton to take care of me and they were doing a good job so far.
Doctor Bloom had a demanding schedule and I would have had to wait two months before having my tumor removed or I would only have to wait a week. He had a cancelation and the next Friday I decided I was having surgery. I figured I should just get it over with and hopefully in the two months that I would have had to wait for the surgery, I would be healing and almost back to my usual self.
My MRI was scheduled for the next night (Thursday) and I went alone. It was brutal. Not being able to move for what felt like eternity was hard. They told me that it would only be forty-five minutes, but I was in that thing for an hour and a half. A few times the lady came out and let me move a little because she needed to get a different angle.
The doctors told me that my tumor was “unique”. It was unique because of the location. The second opinion doctor suggested that he would go through my back to get the tumor out and Doctor Bloom wanted to go in through my right side. If they couldn’t get the tumor through either way, they would go through my chest cavity.
Friday, I talked to Ian at work; he wasn’t happy. I would be out of the office a month and half for recovery and I was his only paralegal. I decided to take the week off before my surgery because my head wasn’t in it and when I say “in it”, I mean all I could think about was my tumor. I told Ian that the doctor wanted me to prep for surgery and not stress—which was true. He gave me a doctor’s note at my request even though I really didn’t need it to start until Friday.
Lucy and Mike were more supportive than Ian. They told Ian that they would do their own paralegal work or they could hire a temporary replacement. Ian being the cheap bastard that he was, decided not to hire anyone and Lucy and Mike were stuck doing my work, too. I felt bad for them, but they understood. They actually cared for me, unlike Ian and they promised to sneak me in a few cheeseburgers or something so I didn’t have to eat nasty hospital food.
Easton and Avery hired a few more bartenders so they could be in Boston for my surgery. I tried to tell them that I would be fine and I would see them when I got out, but they weren’t listening to me.
No one was listening. Friday night before my surgery, Nicole and Avery came over and made sure I had enough food, movies, and books on my Kindle. It felt nice to have people caring for me. Nicole always cared for me, but this was like a mother, not just my friend.
I missed Cheyenne’s game that Saturday, but Easton filled me in when he came that night. He stayed two nights only, because he couldn’t leave Cheyenne for too long. I was still trying to be strong and not show that I was scared. I got the feeling that he wasn’t really buying it, but he never said anything, he just made sure I still had food like Avery and Nicole did the day before. Little did they know, I didn’t have much of an appetite.
Before he left, he gave me another one of his t-shirts that smelled like him—delicious. This time it was an Anaheim Angels one. I was a Red Sox fan, but I wore his shirt anyway, because it was his
shirt.
That week, I had to do breathing exercises to get my lungs ready for surgery. They were going to have to deflate my right lung so they could get to the tumor. I hadn’t realized how weak my lungs were until I had to blow in a device and make a ball float to a certain point and hold it there for a few seconds. I could barely do five seconds and Doctor Bloom wanted me to get to ten.
I was freaking out.
After I would have the surgery, I was told that I would need to blow into the device again a few times a day to prevent pneumonia and if my lungs weren’t strong enough, then I was screwed. I couldn’t leave the hospital until they were sure my lungs were clear. Doctor Bloom estimated I would be in the hospital for at least five days, so I did the breathing exercises whenever I had a free time, like watching TV, reading, whatever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Easton
When I talked to Brooke on Wednesday night and she told me that she was having surgery in nine days, I was scrambling. I wasn’t ready. Avery and I hadn’t hired more bartenders, I hadn’t talked to Cheyenne about Brooke’s tumor, and I couldn’t just take off and be with Brooke and take care of her like I wanted to.
Thursday when I went into Halo, I told Avery about Brooke’s surgery date and he said he would take care of hiring people. We also talked to Bethy and she was covering on Saturday night for me. I just had to get through Friday night and coach Peanut’s game and then I would be on my way to take care of my girl—even if it was for only a few days.
Thursday after practice, I decided to talk to Cheyenne about Brooke’s tumor and hoped that she would understand why I needed to keep seeing Brooke. I didn’t want Cheyenne to think that I was replacing her or wanting to spend more time with Brooke than her. Of course, I wanted to be with Brooke any free time I had, but I actually wanted to be with both my girls so they would start getting to know each other.
I thought that we’d might have had a few weeks or longer for Brooke to keep going to Chey’s softball games, but she only made it to the one. I also didn’t want Cheyenne to think that Brooke didn’t want to come to anymore games, because she did. Brooke told me that she had so much fun and it brought back memories of her time playing. I had to hand it to her, while raising her sister, she still found time to work a part-time job for extra cash and play softball. She really was my Superwoman.
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