I probably screamed louder than anyone else in those stands.
Parker didn’t act phased. He casually jogged back to the bag, sharing some words with the first baseman as he removed his batting gloves. He shoved them into his back pocket and took his position a few paces away from the base.
“Who knew the kid was that fast?” Dawson asked on a laugh.
“I don’t know,” my dad chimed in, “he’s moved pretty fast before when there’s been fried chicken on the table.”
Parker made the point again when he stole second base, sliding in head first and beating the catcher’s throw by a good second and a half. I didn’t breathe again until Parker stood up, brushed himself off, and readied himself for the next play.
Like I said, baseball could be a very nerve-wracking sport.
The next batter, Hernandez, hit a single, sending Parker over to third when the center fielder couldn’t make the throw to first. With runners at the corners and no outs, everyone was again on their feet. Rodriguez was up and hit a double on the first pitch, allowing Parker to make it safely all the way home and Hernandez to make it over to third.
The Red Sox were now up by one run, putting the score at four to three.
And just like that, the Giants got three easy outs, the Red Sox stranding more runners in the process, which the men in our family didn’t approve of.
“I’m telling you,” Clay said to the guys, “Cox needs to put in Riley for Patterson at shortstop. Riley has the better bat and Patterson hasn’t shown up all game.”
I didn’t really care what Cox did as long as we won and Parker didn’t get hurt.
The seventh inning was uneventful, but I was grateful for the break and the stretch before it started. I tried to find Parker in the dugout, though I knew he wouldn’t be looking over at us anyway. He was completely focused on his job right now, but I just couldn’t wait to see him smile at me again.
San Francisco had another good inning in the eighth, hitting a two-run homer and giving them the lead at five to four going into the bottom of the inning. Disturbingly, nothing happened with our bats and we were heading into the top of the ninth without absolutely any action.
Thankfully, our new pitcher had walked onto the mound with a vengeance and he’d struck out all three of the Giants batters he faced, sending us into the bottom of the ninth with the Red Sox still down by one run.
I could hardly take the suspense.
My mind was whirling with each batter and with each pitch. I’d lost my voice at some point and couldn’t even manage a squeak of encouragement, I was so nervous.
And before I knew it—because my heart and nerves apparently hadn’t been overworked enough tonight—the bases were loaded with two outs.
Parker was up to bat.
Chapter Forty-Two
Parker
Didn’t it just always happen this way?
Bases loaded, two outs, everything riding on the batter stepping up to the plate.
I was ready for it, though.
I’d been ready for it my entire life. I wasn’t nervous.
A lot of guys might dream of a moment like this, wish with all their hearts for it to happen to them someday. They might have grown up playing with their friends, pretending to be their favorite players, acting out a scene just like this one.
The difference between me and those guys?
I’d known this was going to happen to me one day.
I couldn’t explain it to anyone but from a young age, I’d had a deep-seeded feeling inside of me that I was destined for a moment like this. A moment where I held potential victory in my hands. A moment that, if done right, would live in infamy in the sporting world and gift me eternal glory.
I’d somehow known this was coming, had worked up to it since I was seven years old.
I just had to go and take it.
I signaled the pitcher and then came the tunnel vision. The roar of the crowd faded into the background, the sweat on my brow was ignored. Everything centered on him, his body movements and what he had in his hands and was about to send my way. There were no smiles, no words between me and the catcher. This was no time for joking or friendly bullshit.
We were at war.
The first pitch came in, right down the center, and before my brain could tell my arms that it just wasn’t the right pitch, I swung and sent the ball flying backwards into the netting behind home plate.
Strike one.
I stepped back and took several deep breaths.
Calm down.
Despite my single-minded focus, I had a tendency to swing at shit pitches when I got over-excited. And I was not going to blow this over something I had coached myself on time and time again.
The next pitch came in and as I watched it sail toward me, the message came in loud and clear. Let it go.
Ball one.
I didn’t have to look at the third base coach before the next pitch. We all knew what was at stake here. We all knew what I had to do. I watched again as the next pitch sailed past me.
Ball two.
Then it hit me, and I knew. This is it.
For years to come, no matter how many people asked or how they asked it, I would never be able to put into words what happened before that next pitch. Something just hit me and sent my mind reeling into another world. They weren’t memories of the past that suddenly overwhelmed me. They were just images of another life, one I think I’d always imagined and wished for myself since adolescence.
In the span of only a few seconds, I saw a healthy, supportive father and a smiling, loving mother cheering for me in the stands with my two brothers sitting beside them. I saw afternoons in our backyard, our father teaching all three of us how to catch and throw the ball, how to hit.
I saw what could have been, what should have been.
Images that would never be and were wasted on questions like why couldn’t it be.
And with a sense of determination overriding every thought and muscle impulse, I swung the bat.
I swung the bat with the knowledge that everything I just saw as what could have been, I would change to what will be. In that moment, I told myself that I would have all of that, give all of that to my future family. I told myself that it was the last time I would ever wish for something else in life, something that I didn’t have.
Because after this, I would have all of it.
As I swung that bat, I told myself that I wasn’t worthless, wasn’t trash, wasn’t inferior to anyone else. I told myself that I deserved someone like Kinley to love and was worth her love in return.
As I felt the bat hit the ball, I reminded myself that the past may have been carved in stone, but the future wasn’t.
And I was going to make a damn good one for myself.
It was a lot to process within only a few seconds. But it was a surreal moment that was hard to explain.
Though what happened next wasn’t.
My eyes didn’t leave the ball as soon as it made contact with my bat. I watched it soar through the air, cutting through the sky in a majestic trajectory that looked like it had the distance. My gaze was like a tractor beam on it. It might as well have been just me and the ball in that stadium because that’s all that existed in my world for those precious seconds.
I saw it going…going…going…
Gone.
Grand slam.
It disappeared somewhere amongst the sea of fans. I stood there, hardly believing what I just saw, and then realization came back into sharp focus.
Pandemonium.
Madness.
We just won the World Series.
I don’t remember much about the screaming spectators, or running the bases, or the flashing cameras, or even my teammates tackling me after I touched home plate. I remembered hugging Moberly, though, and sharing a few words with him, barely hearing each other over the explosive celebration of fireworks and utter chaos.
But I distinctly remembered looking for Kinley in the stands and getti
ng my first glimpse of her after I became a World Series Champion.
She was looking right at me, tears in her eyes and the sweetest smile I could picture on her face. She mouthed I love you and laughed joyously to herself, covering her mouth with her hand. Even as I walked over to the wall by her section, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She read my action and made her way down the stairs, dodging fans and sloshing cups of beer.
As soon as I was within reach, the crowd bombarded me with slaps on the back, pictures, and words of congratulations. But I didn’t pay attention to any of it.
I only had eyes for my girl.
And as soon as she was close enough, I wrapped my arms around her waist, engulfing her in my tight embrace and pulled her over the wall. She giggled and gripped my shoulders as I spun her around, my face buried in her neck, needing something to convince myself that it was all real.
“I’m so proud of you,” she said in my ear, laying a kiss on my cheek.
The cheek wasn’t good enough, though. I grabbed the back of her head and slammed my mouth against hers, letting her know that she was more important to me than any championship, but that it meant more to me than she could ever imagine that she was here with me, sharing in this moment.
When I broke away, I looked into those tear-filled green eyes, gazing at my future. “Thank you,” I told her.
She cocked her head to the side, furrowing her brow in confusion. “For what?”
“For being here. For giving me another chance. None of this would mean anything to me if you weren’t here for it.”
Her face softened and a few tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. “I’m always going to be here. I love you.”
I pulled her in for a fierce hug. “I love you so much, Kin.”
It occurred to me in that moment and as I recalled the seconds before I hit the ball that although I had always told her I was playing for her, I had also been playing for me.
For my brothers.
For our lost childhoods.
For all the years of pain.
And for the future I had always wanted. With Kinley.
I had been playing for us.
Epilogue
Kinley
“Parker Cruz,” Mom scolded. “If I see one roll missing from that basket, you won’t be taking home any leftovers.”
“Ah, Ma,” he crooned, throwing an arm over her shoulder and charming her in that irresistible way he had. “Yours are just so good, the best. I can’t help myself.”
She swatted him out of the kitchen with her dish towel, although he was still able to sneak back in to steal a few kisses from me before re-joining the men in the living room who were gathered around the TV watching football.
It was Thanksgiving and the entire Masterson/Cruz clan was gathered at my parents’ house for the biggest feast on record.
Well, almost the entire clan.
Parker said that he couldn’t get his mom to leave his dad at home, so we were going to stop by and take some leftovers to her after dinner. It would be my first time ever meeting her and I was crazy nervous about it. Parker said I had absolutely nothing to be nervous about—I think he was actually more freaked out than me because it involved exposing more of his past—but it was always nerve-wracking meeting the parents, no matter what the situation was.
Though in this case, it was just parent. Because he still refused to allow me to meet his father, insisting that it would never happen. Not that I had any desire to ever meet the man who had caused the love of my life so much pain, so I was fine with that.
“So, where are you off to next, Kinley?” Mickie asked as she added milk to the mashed potatoes. “Where’s your next shoot?”
I set about counting all of the plates and silverware to make sure we had enough for everyone. “I’m actually going to stay around Boston for a little while.” Because I’m moving in with Parker. But that was something we hadn’t exactly announced to everyone yet, so I kept it to myself for now. “I’ve got enough sales from my stock images and commission from the gallery that I’m going to take a little break now that Parker has some free time.”
We’d barely had time to breathe since the World Series between all of his interviews and press conferences and public appearances, but it was finally starting to calm down a little. Parker had been named MVP of the series, which he’d been positively thrilled about, though he didn’t want to show it.
We had talked about it and decided that there was no point in keeping my New York apartment. I wasn’t attached to it and we knew we were going to be spending every spare minute together during the off-season, so it made sense to move in together.
Plus, I loved the thought of sharing a home with him.
After all, we’d waited almost a decade to begin our lives together. We weren’t about to waste one more day living apart.
I’d still be able to show my work at Ryan’s gallery, and I’d already been in contact with a few gallery owners in Boston who were dying to get their hands on some of my prints, so it was working out perfectly. I was going to keep my shoots pretty local for a while, and Parker had offered to travel with me to whatever shoot I had until the season started up again.
Although I realized that when the time came that we wanted to start having kids, I wouldn’t be able to do as much traveling.
And I was surprisingly fine with that.
I could still be a photographer in the New England area. I’d take shoots in other areas, exotic locals, whenever opportunity knocked and the timing was right. But I knew that I was at a point in my life where I didn’t absolutely have to do that.
Speaking of which, I hadn’t yet taken a single picture today. I’d been so preoccupied with catching up with the girls and helping Mom in the kitchen that I hadn’t even gotten out my camera. It was rare that we were all able to get together like this, so I wanted to make sure I documented every moment. I went upstairs to my bedroom where I’d left my camera bag sitting on my bed.
I pulled out the camera and noticed my inside pouch was partially unzipped. I went to close it back up, but reached inside to inspect the contents instead, knowing exactly what I’d find. I wrapped my fingers around the necklace a young Parker had once made for me, admiring the amateur way the beads had been strung together and the mismatch of the shapes and colors. It made me smile every time.
It also made me realize that it no longer belonged locked away in my camera bag.
It was so small that I could no longer wear it around my neck, so I wrapped it around my wrist a couple of times and wore it as a bracelet. It felt appropriate for the day.
I went to stand up and head back downstairs when my door opened and the man himself walked inside. He spotted me on the bed and a devious smirk grew on his face.
“You read my mind, baby,” he purred, approaching me.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said, moving to get up but he was too quick and tackled me back onto the bed, making me laugh. “Everyone’s downstairs,” I protested. “I need to get back down to help in the kitchen.”
His hands started to move underneath my shirt, quickly finding my bra and pulling it down to play with my nipples. “I’ll be quick then,” he replied. “But tonight…be prepared for an all-nighter because when I get you all to myself again, it will be anything but quick.”
Both of our hands flew to the buttons of our pants at the same time, his fingers rubbing against the beads of the necklace. He leaned back slightly and lifted my arm up, staring at the necklace in curiosity. I watched him studying the jewelry, his forehead creased in thoughtfulness, then smoothing out as recognition struck him.
His eyes flew to mine, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Is that…?”
I nodded, smiling. “Yeah.”
Something sparked in his eyes that I couldn’t quite put a name to. “You kept it?”
I nodded again, looking down at the necklace, the fingers of my other hand lovingly caressing it. “You made it for me, to say you w
ere sorry. I had to keep it.”
He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath and then did something that made my heart ache. He lifted my wrist to his mouth and kissed the skin there, then moved to the necklace, touching almost every bead with his lips.
It was a gesture that sealed our past, present, and future together.
“Keep it forever, Kin,” he whispered against my heated skin.
“I will.”
Then, he began trailing his lips up the length of my arm, gliding his tongue against my flesh in a sensual move that had my toes curling.
“Now about that quickie.”
A laugh slipped from my lips as he finally got the top button of my pants undone. “Such a romantic.”
“No. I mean, we really do have to be quick.” His fingers snuck underneath the material of my underwear and my eyes rolled back in my head. “Dawson has an appointment with his makeup artist, Gabby, and it’s really not something we can miss.”
That was enough to briefly distract me from what his fingers were doing against my sensitive flesh and I shot him a perplexed look. “Come again?”
He smirked. “Oh, I will. And you will. Again and again and again.” He chuckled and then clarified, “Let’s just say that I won a competition and that Dawson’s brief stint as a drag queen in front of the whole family is my prize.”
I was still a little confused, but forgot all about it when his strong fingers entered my body, sending me to an entirely different place.
A place that I never, ever wanted to leave.
The End
STAY TUNED…
The Art of Sage (Cruz Brothers #2), Mason’s story, is coming
Playing for Kinley (Cruz Brothers Book 1) Page 39
