by J. Sterling
One girl had even broken into my dorm room and waited naked for me in my bed until I got home from an away game my freshman year. All this shit sounded completely made up, and I wouldn’t have believed it if it hadn’t happened to me. My dad had probably welcomed it back in his day, but I hated it. And my teammates couldn’t understand why.
They’d ask, “What kind of guy complains about getting naked pictures from hot chicks all the time?”
What they didn’t know was that I’d been dealing with that kind of thing my entire life. None of those girls really wanted me. They wanted what they thought being with me meant. Girls wanted Chance Carter, but they didn’t even know me Being wanted for all the wrong reasons wasn’t a turn-on. I’d stopped trusting girls years ago, and I didn’t see that changing anytime soon.
I didn’t want to change.
And I didn’t know how.
“Come on, Kitten. Tell Chance bye, and let’s go home.” My dad called my mom by her pet name, and she rolled her eyes, pretending to hate it even though she loved it and wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all my father.
“I’ll text you when I land,” I said as I started to slowly walk away toward the security line in the distance.
My little sister ran up to me and gave me a hug. “I hate that you’re gone all the time. Especially in the summer.”
“At least you have the twins,” I said, reminding her about our twin cousins, Sadie and Sami, who were also her best friends.
“But it’s not as fun without you,” she admitted, and I gave her one last squeeze.
“I’ll miss you too,” I said with a grin before I started worrying. “Don’t block me on social media,” I warned, giving her a pointed look, knowing that I could recruit Sadie and Sami or their brother, Coby, if I needed to get the dirt.
Jacey was always posting things online that drove me crazy, and she knew it. Half the time, I thought she had done it on purpose just to mess with me or get a reaction since I no longer lived at home and couldn’t do anything about it. It was her way of getting my attention.
Have you seen the way teenage girls dress these days? I mean, come on.
“Then, don’t go all psycho older brother on me, and I won’t.” She raised her eyebrows, challenging me.
She was always challenging me. No one told Jacey what to do, and she made sure everyone around her knew it.
“That’s my job,” I said, reminding her that, as her older brother, I was here to protect her.
“No, it’s not. I already have him.” She nodded her head toward our dad, who was currently holding our mom in his arms and kissing her like there wasn’t anyone else around.
“You can sweet-talk him though,” I complained because she’d had our dad wrapped around her little finger the minute she was born.
She gave me a little curtsy because she knew it too. It was embarrassing, watching the way he caved whenever it came to her.
“Not my fault he loves me more than he loves you,” she said, and I groaned.
“Try not to break any hearts while I’m gone.”
She shrugged. “No promises.”
It was official. My sister was more like our dad than I’d ever be.
“I’ll miss you. Even though you suck at math,” she said before running away.
Little shit. But she wasn’t wrong. I really did suck at math.
Coming Home
Fall Semester
Chance
I flew back home to Southern California the morning after summer ball ended. My dad picked me up at the airport, sunglasses covering his eyes and a grin on his face, and I looked around him for my mom or sister. I noticed a few people eyeing him like they recognized him but weren’t sure from where. They snapped photos on their cell phones to analyze later, I assumed.
“Just you?” I asked, still not believing it as he pulled me into a bear hug and reached for my.
I half-expected my mom to hop out from behind a pole or something.
“I told your mom I needed to do some things at the field after I dropped you off,” he said, letting me know that if he hadn’t said that, the whole family would have shown up at the airport for my arrival and expected me to go home with them instead of heading to the baseball house.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling relieved. It was shitty of me to react that way, but I was exhausted.
School started in two days, and I needed to unwind. Alone.
“I figured you didn’t need the fanfare.”
“Not today,” I agreed, fighting off a yawn.
I’d slept for most of the flight, but I was still tired. Nonstop baseball with only three days off the whole summer would do that to a person.
“Let’s get your shit and get you to your new house,” my dad directed as he slung an arm over my shoulders and walked us toward baggage claim.
We pulled into the driveway of the baseball house like we’d done it a thousand times before even though this was the first time we’d driven here together.
“I parked The Beast over there,” he said, pointing at the old Bronco.
It was my dad’s old car, and I fucking loved it. My mom had said there used to be a hole in the passenger floorboard or something like that, but my dad had had it fully restored at some point during my childhood after I told him I wanted it when I was bigger. I never remembered saying that, but I must have because he had given it to me on my sixteenth birthday, and I’d been driving it ever since. I loved that damn car.
“I’ve missed driving it.” I opened the passenger door, stepped out, and stretched, reaching my arms high into the air.
My dad popped the trunk before leaning out the driver’s window. “Come home for dinner soon. Before things get too crazy here.”
“I will,” I promised.
When I’d first moved out freshman year, we had tried to have family dinner with everyone once a week. I learned quickly that I wouldn’t be able to realistically make that happen. School and baseball were too time-consuming, so we had switched it to once a month. Sometimes, I made it, but most of the time, they happened without me, much to my mom’s disappointment. I hated making her sad, but I could only do so much.
“Now that Coby’s gone, me and your uncle are outnumbered,” he said with a shake of his head. “There’re five of them, Chance. Five!” he added, and I laughed before realizing that he was right.
The two Carter households had officially been taken over by females … not that they hadn’t always run the show in the first place.
“Maybe I’ll just stay here,” I teased, and my dad growled. He literally fucking growled.
“Just get your ass home. And call your mother,” he demanded, and I gave him a head nod as he drove away.
I pulled my travel baseball bag across the driveway toward the front door. Nudging it open, I was immediately hit with a rush of air, and I realized that the sliding back door must be open. Laughter and cheers filled the otherwise quiet space, and I knew that whoever was here was out in the backyard. I tried my best to sneak into my room without anyone noticing.
Cole had made sure that I got his old bedroom before he moved out last year. It had its own bathroom and a lock on the door. Two things I desperately needed if I wanted to ensure any kind of privacy. Which I did.
It was my draft year, and it was hard enough in general to keep the girls away, but living in the baseball house was going to be even more challenging. Cole had known that, and that was why he made sure that I was the one who got this particular room, even when a senior on the team said it should be his simply based on seniority. He was one hundred percent right, but he thankfully backed down once he heard the reasons why I wanted it, and it didn’t cause a problem between us. The last thing I’d needed was to fight with a guy on my team over a fucking room.
“Hey, man,” Mac’s voice rang out as he walked through my door, a big grin on his face.
I stopped pulling things from my bags long enough to greet him.
“Hey. Good to see you,”
I said as we clapped each other on the backs. “I was just wondering if you were here or not.”
“Everyone’s out back. I just got in,” Mac said. He was from Arizona and was one of the few guys on the team from out of state. “How was your summer? I saw your stats. You were on fire.” He grinned like he was so full of pride that he might burst.
I’d had a great summer at the plate and behind it. “Yeah. Aside from the usual bullshit, it was really good.”
Mac plopped down on my bed and bit into an apple I hadn’t even seen him holding. I wondered for a second if he’d pulled it out of his pocket or where the hell it had come from when he asked, “What kind of bullshit?”
“The Jack Carter’s your dad, egotistical asshole teammates, and girls who don’t take no for an answer kind,” I said with a tired voice and a nod.
It wasn’t anything Mac hadn’t heard or witnessed before. We’d been friends since we were freshmen, playing together for just as long. He always said that my loss was his gain. I needed the girls to stay the hell away from me, and Mac wanted them all, especially after he’d gotten his heart broken one time after a game. We were complete opposites when it came to females, but there wasn’t anyone I trusted more than him to have my back.
“Standard Carter shit,” he said as he took another bite into the fruit, the juice spraying everywhere.
“Pretty much.”
“Tell me about it though. I want to hear details, man. My summer team blew. I did all right, but the competition was weak,” he said as I continued to hang up my clothes in the closet and toss shit into my dresser without folding them.
Mac had gone to play at a lower league than I had played in, but it was still one of the best in the country. I was actually surprised to hear that he hadn’t had a good time. The whole point of playing during the summer was to be seen by scouts and to face competition we wouldn’t otherwise. Summer ball was supposed to give us the chance to get more exposure.
“Your team wasn’t good?”
He shook his head. “Not like I was expecting. Every team we played was like playing here. I think I wanted more. A chance to get better, you know? To play against guys who would push me to push myself.”
“I completely understand,” I said because that was the whole reason I’d gone to college instead of playing professional baseball straight out of high school. I wanted to get better first. “I’m sorry your team sucked though.”
“Just sorta felt like a waste of time, you know?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t. Trust me.” I stopped putting shit away to look at him. “I guarantee that scouts who didn’t know you before saw you, and now, they’ll be watching you. Playing there will be a good thing in the long run.”
“Always seeing the positive,” he said, finishing off the apple and tossing the core into a trash can I hadn’t even known was sitting next to the desk. “Tell me something, Carter.” He didn’t finish his thought, so I gave him a look, and he continued, “The guys on your team really gave you shit about being there?”
“Just one,” I said as I thought back to the last few months on the East Coast.
“How does anyone play with you for a single inning and think you got there because of your dad?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “But I’m used to it by now. I’ve heard it my whole life. I know it’s bullshit,” I said with a bored look as my mind started replaying the night it had all exploded.
The first thing I’d learned since stepping onto the field this summer was that Dylan Breakers was an asshole. He played right field, and God had blessed him with an arm from the heavens. That kid could throw someone out at home from two hundred feet away without breaking a sweat. But like I’d already said, he was an asshole. I’d even heard rumors that his teammates back home couldn’t stand to be around him. It was hard, competing with an ego that choked all the air out of a room.
“At least we’ll be getting drafted off of our skills and not our daddy’s last name,” Dylan said one night during a group dinner out.
I hit the top of the table, making a glass of water spill and silverware clatter. The rest of the team stopped moving, even their mouths stopped chewing. To be honest, I thought everyone was holding their breath.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been accused of riding my dad’s coattails, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last, but I’d had enough of Dylan’s piss-poor attitude today. He’d thrown a hissy fit during the game when he got called out on strikes during two of his three at bats. He had kicked the dirt, yelled at the umpire, and thrown his helmet in the dugout, narrowly missing a teammate. Dylan was a fucking virus who had the ability to infect a whole team, and I hated him for it.
His fiery eyes met mine, daring me to make a move. “Got something to say, Carter? Say it!” he screamed, creating even more of a scene than I’d just done.
I didn’t even have to look around to know the entire bar was watching us and most likely filming on their phones whatever altercation was about to take place.
My teammate Jason’s arm splayed across my chest, holding me in place. “He’s not worth it, man.”
“What’d you say?” Dylan’s chair screeched as he pushed it back to stand, tossing the girl from his lap, who yelped in response as she struggled to stay upright.
“I said, you’re not worth it,” Jason responded, his tone bored. He reached for another fry, put it in his mouth, and chewed it slowly.
“I’ll be worth more than your life after the draft next year,” Dylan said in such a convincing way that I thought he actually believed it.
I started laughing and couldn’t stop.
My laughter continued as the sound of patrons getting back to their food made its way to my ears. I was grateful they had stopped fixating on us. The last thing I wanted to do was get in an actual fight with a teammate in front of the whole town, but this summer had the potential to be explosive. There were too many egos, too close to draft season. Every guy on the team thought they were better than the next. Shit was bound to hit the fan at some point.
“What the hell are you laughing at?” Dylan asked as his face flamed with color.
“You,” I said, staring right at him. “You’re a joke. A delusional fucking joke.” I pushed my chair back, stood tall, and leaned over the table to make sure he could hear me without my having to shout. “You’ll be lucky to get drafted at all with your attitude. Do any of your teammates back home even like you?” It was a low blow, and I knew it, but sometimes, I had a bit of a temper.
It was the one thing I knew I’d gotten from my dad, and I wasn’t sorry about it. That Carter fire came in handy when guys underestimated me. They thought I was chill and laid-back and could use me as a verbal punching bag. But push me too far, and all kindness disappeared.
I distinctly remembered two times when my dad had lost his temper.
The first was when someone had disrespected my mom at dinner. He hit on her when she went to the restroom, waited for her to come out, and then tried his luck again.
My dad had a bit of a possessive streak when it came to my mom, and after hearing all the things they’d been through as a couple, I honestly couldn’t blame him. And even I had to admit that it was nice to see my parents still so in love even if they grossed me out half the time.
When the offending guy stood up at exactly the same time as we did to leave the restaurant, his eyes firmly attached to my mom’s ass, my dad didn’t give him a chance to apologize before he punched him in the jaw and told him to never look at his wife again.
“Breathe in her direction, and it will be the last thing you do. Push me on this. I fucking dare you.”
It was scary as hell, seeing my dad so angry, but I also remembered feeling weirdly proud. My dad was a badass, and my mom loved it. She hung all over him, draping kisses on his cheek as we left, and could barely stay in the passenger seat on the entire drive back home. I’d learned in that moment that the right woman would want you to go to bat for her, so to speak. Or ma
ybe it was just my mom?
The second time my dad had come unglued, his temper like a wild beast, was when a pissant, stupid kid tried dating my sister just because she was Jack Carter’s daughter. My dad overheard him in the pool one day, asking Jacey where her dad was and asking when he could meet him and if she thought he would sign a couple of baseballs for him and his friends. When Jacey asked why he cared so much about her dad and not her, he admitted that his friends were huge fans and that was why he had asked her out in the first place.
My dad stormed outside and practically dragged the kid from the pool by his hair before threatening his life—a twelve-year-old boy with braces. He told him he’d rip the braces off his teeth with his bare hands if he ever talked to Jacey or pretended to like her because of who her father was. Needless to say, that kid was never seen at our house again, and after Jacey was done having a meltdown of epic proportions, she had thanked our dad for sticking up for her.
My dad was fiercely protective over our family, and I respected it.
“Like I said, Carter, you’re only here because of your last name,” he spat.
I shook my head before sitting back down. That was literally all he had to say to me, and we both knew it was bullshit.
“Chance is here because he’s the best catcher I’ve ever seen behind the plate. You know it. I know it. Coach knows it. Hell, all the scouts know it too. You’re only here because your last name is played out, and frankly, it’s fucking stupid.”
“Fuck you, McAllister,” Dylan said to our best pitcher, Cayden, before sitting down and pulling the girl back onto his lap.
She squealed in delight, and before I knew it, they were making out, all conversations stopped.
“Thanks.” I gave a nod to Cayden.
