by J. Sterling
The doorbell rang, and I walked slowly toward the front door, figuring that it was one of my dad’s employees or associates.
When I pulled the door open, I almost dropped my sandwich. “Jared? What are you doing here?”
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard from him during the break, but it was the first time he’d shown up at the house. He’d texted a few times since he’d gotten back to the city, and my responses had seemed to keep him at bay, so I’d figured I was in the clear.
He stepped over the threshold, inviting himself in. “Has it been long enough?” he asked.
I refused to move anywhere, except the foyer. “Long enough for what?”
“For you to see how stupid this is.” He sounded bored before noticing my suitcases. He studied them before giving me an inquisitive glare.
“What are you talking about? How stupid what is?”
“Us breaking up. Us being apart. That’s not what we do. We go together, Danika. I thought being home would at least remind you of that.”
I was caught off guard even though I probably shouldn’t have been. It was just that Jared had taken my breaking up with him without so much as a fight. He’d practically sprinted out of my apartment, angry but agreeable, and I’d assumed he’d been as relieved as I had even though he never said so.
He took a step toward me, and I moved away in response.
“I’ve left you alone. I’ve given you time. I’ve given you space. Figured you’d come to your senses by now.”
“I don’t need time. Jared, nothing’s changed,” I said because we’d already gone over all of this back in California—how things had gotten so sideways between us, how we weren’t the same couple we’d once been, and how neither one of us was truly happy.
But now, I was thinking that he hadn’t listened to a single thing I said because he assumed I’d change my mind eventually or that I hadn’t meant any of it in the first place.
“This is because of that baseball player, isn’t it? Did he call you and tell you?” Jared’s mouth twisted into a snarl.
I knew he hated Chance. He’d always felt threatened by him, and looking back, he had good reason to.
“Call and tell me what?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” He tried to cover.
I wasn’t buying it, but I also didn’t care what he was referring to. I didn’t want to talk to Jared about Chance.
“Fine, don’t tell me. Is there anything else?” I asked, surprising myself at how badly I wanted him gone.
Jared and I had been friends for so long that I’d just expected we’d go back to that. I could see how naive that was now. You couldn’t cross and uncross those kinds of lines that easily.
“You’re making a mistake, Danika. You’d better really think this through,” he warned, and I wanted to scream out in frustration.
“I have.”
God, I’d thought this to death before I actually pulled the trigger and ended things. It had been a long time coming, and we both knew it. The fact that I’d felt nothing but relief after he left that night told me everything I needed to know. I’d made the right decision, and I’d done the right thing.
“When that baseball chump uses you up and tosses you aside like yesterday’s garbage, I won’t be there, waiting to pick up the pieces. I hope you know that. You can’t come back from this.”
“You need to leave,” I said, pointing at the door.
We were done here.
He stepped toward the front door before stopping and turning around to face me. “He’s getting drafted this year, and then what, Danika? He’ll leave. And what are you going to do, follow him?” he asked with a sick laugh. “Yeah, right. Your whole life’s already planned out, and it brings you right back here,” he emphasized the last three words before continuing, “You’re breaking up with me, so you can date this guy for the next five months? Why? So you can say you fucked a professional baseball player? Maybe he’ll keep you on his roster. Call you every time he’s in town for a series.”
“My daughter asked you to leave.” My dad’s voice boomed throughout the entryway, echoing around us. He sounded pissed.
“Oh”—Jared cleared his throat—“Mr. Marchetti. I didn’t see you there,” he stumbled on his words.
“That’s obvious. Now, leave before I throw you off the terrace.” My dad moved to stand defensively in front of me, letting Jared know that he was no longer welcome in our home.
I couldn’t see what happened beyond that, but I heard the front door open and then close again before my dad turned to face me, his fists clenched tight.
“That boy has changed. Has he always talked to you like that?”
“No. It started after the football-player thing. It’s slowly gotten worse.”
“Your boyfriend should never speak to you that way. It’s not okay.”
I felt like an idiot for putting up with Jared’s behavior, for making excuses and justifying it instead of seeing it for what it was. “I know. It won’t happen again.”
He pulled me into a hard hug and told me he loved me and would kill anyone who talked to me like that.
“Thanks, Dad,” I tried to say, but my face was smooshed against his chest, and I didn’t think he’d heard me.
I got back to California a few hours before Chance’s first preseason game. I’d taken the red-eye, which normally would have been awful, but flying first class had made everything bearable. Sunny picked me up from the airport before she had to head straight back home to her parents’ house.
“I’m sorry I can’t go to the game with you,” she said for the millionth time.
“It’s your mom’s birthday. I’m pretty sure I can manage going to a game by myself.” I was actually excited to be going alone. I needed to talk to Chance after the game, and I knew it would be awkward with an audience even if it was just Sunny. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you so much for picking me up. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” She smiled as I closed the passenger door, and she popped the trunk, so I could grab my suitcase. “I can’t wait to hear all the details,” she squealed, and I suddenly got super nervous.
It was one thing to think about being with Chance when it wasn’t a possibility, but it was another thing altogether when it was a real option.
“Wish me luck,” I practically begged.
“You don’t need it, but good luck! Go get your man! And tell Mac I still think he’s hot and that I want to make out again!” She laughed as she pulled away, leaving me alone in our parking lot with a thousand thoughts racing through my head.
What the hell am I going to wear? I need a shower. And what am I even thinking, going to his game, unannounced, alone, and filled with hope when I haven’t talked to him in weeks? Anything could have changed during that time. Heck, everything could have changed.
I convinced myself it would be okay as I unlocked the front door and stepped inside. The air felt stale from being closed up for too long. Walking toward the balcony, I opened the sliding glass door and closed the screen door instead, letting the warm air flow. Inside my bedroom, I tossed my suitcase on top of my bed and started to unpack my clothes and my thoughts. No matter how Chance felt about me, breaking up with Jared had been the right thing to do, and regardless of what happened later today, I knew I’d be okay.
Exhaling, I felt a calmness moving through me as I sent a text to my dad, letting him know I’d gotten home safe. He responded right back with a thumbs-up emoji and a heart, which basically meant he’d gotten my message but he was too busy to talk. I wasn’t offended.
Hopping into the shower, I let the hot water wash over me before I scrubbed my body clean.
The baseball field was close enough that I could walk but far enough that I might be sweating through my shirt by the time I got there. I briefly considered calling for a ride before deciding that the walk would do me good. We walked everywhere in New York, and I could walk here too.
I got to the game a litt
le early, and I made my way to the ticket booth, where I showed my student ID and picked up a free ticket.
“Danika?”
My name being called made me spin around.
“Hi, Mrs. Carter,” I said with a smile as she pulled me into a hug. I didn’t know why I hadn’t even considered the fact that she would be here, too, but it hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“Please call me Cassie. Mrs. Carter is so weird,” she insisted.
I looked around her for Jacey but didn’t see her anywhere. “Are you here alone? Where’s Jacey?”
“She didn’t want to come. Said she’s tired of watching baseball all the time. Can’t say I blame her really. I’d be tired of it, too, if I didn’t love it so much,” she added with a proud smile. “Plus, seeing Jack in uniform is something I’ll never get tired of.”
I chuckled, loving that she still loved her husband that much. “I never thought about that. Jacey, I mean. Did she grow up, going to a lot of games?”
Cassie full-on laughed. “Her life revolved around the ball field. Sit with me, so I’m not alone? I have an extra ticket.” She flashed two tickets in front of my face.
“Are you sure? Will Chance mind?”
Her face narrowed, her green eyes reminding me so much of her son’s. “Why on earth would Chance mind?”
“I don’t know. I just”—I paused for a second—“didn’t tell him I was coming to the game today.”
“So? He won’t care.” She waved off my concerns and looped her arm through mine.
I walked in step with her down, down, down and stopped right behind home plate.
“These are your seats?” I had to force the words out.
“Yep. Right behind home plate, so I can watch Chance catch and see my hot husband.”
“We’re so close,” I said, feeling super uncomfortable as I glanced to my left and noticed the clear view into the dugout. “We can see right in there,” I practically stuttered.
“You’ll get used to it.” She tried to comfort me. “Here, I’ll sit in the seat closest to the dugout, so you aren’t in full view, okay?”
“Thank you,” I breathed out with relief.
Sure, I’d only moved one seat over, but it was one seat farther away from the team, and I could shield myself with Cassie’s body if I needed to.
I could feel her eyes on me, studying me before I turned to look at her.
“I forgot how nerve-racking it can be,” she said, sounding almost sympathetic.
“Being here, you mean?”
She nodded. “Yes, being here. I used to get nervous, watching Jack play.”
“I can’t imagine you ever being nervous about anything,” I said because Cassie handled herself with such confidence that it radiated throughout her very being.
“The girls were pretty mean back then.”
“It’s funny how little we change. As females, I mean. When it comes to other females,” I said, but I wasn’t sure that I’d made any sense.
“Our competitive nature against each other runs deep. Are they mean to you for dating my son?”
“Well”—I laughed—“we’re not dating, so I don’t know.”
“That’s right. You have a boyfriend.” She closed her mouth and stared out at the field, where the other team was taking infield.
“Not anymore,” I said.
She faced me with a giant smile. “Does Chance know that?”
“Not yet.”
“Oh, this is going to be fun.” She clapped her hands together right as her husband stepped onto the field, and I swore I heard her gasp. “That is one fine specimen of a man,” she said as Jack walked up to the fence separating the field from the stands.
“Hey, beautiful. Can I take you out after the game?” he said, looking directly at Cassie.
“Depends,” she said in response.
He grinned, looking confident and cocky, and I wondered if this was how he had been when he was Chance’s age.
“On what?”
“Will you be wearing that?”
His smile grew lopsided as he asked, “Do you want me to wear this?”
“Definitely.” Her head nodded.
Their flirting was adorable—and a little uncomfortable to be in the middle of.
“Then, I wouldn’t change for the world,” he said. “So, is that a yes?”
“Hell yes.”
“Good. Hey, Danika.” He waved before walking away.
“Hi,” I mumbled under my breath.
Cassie giggled. “Sorry about that. I can’t help myself sometimes.”
Watching Jack and Cassie together made me realize that true love really could exist. It was easy to forget sometimes, especially when real life crept in and smacked you to your knees. What they had was special and rare, but it was possible. And I wanted it. I wondered if I could be that lucky.
First-Game Nerves
Chance
“Not to freak you out or anything, but I need you to look at your mom, dude,” Mac said, and I wondered what the fuck he was talking about.
I rarely looked in the stands. Maybe a quick glance at my little sister when she screamed my name like a banshee but never any other time. Especially not when Mac suggested I did it. That usually meant he was scoping out chicks.
My mom was not a chick. Well, not one for Mac to be checking out anyway, if he wanted to continue living.
I turned and searched the stands for her usual seat. “Whoa,” I said out loud, my heart leaping into my throat as I noticed that my sister was not the person sitting next to my mom, like I had expected.
Danika sat on the other side of her instead.
“Did you know she was coming?” Mac asked, keeping his voice low.
“I didn’t even know she was back in town,” I responded in the same quiet tone, not wanting to draw attention or have any of my teammates overhear.
“And she’s sitting with your mom?”
“Apparently.”
“Did you start dating Tutor Girl and not tell me?” Mac whined. “I’m hurt, man. I’m supposed to be your best friend.”
“You are my best friend, idiot. We’re not dating. I haven’t talked to her in weeks, and she has a—” I started to say before he cut me off.
“Boyfriend. I know. But we both know he cheated on her, and I’d bet it wasn’t the first time. Maybe she found out and dumped his ass?” He sounded excited at the prospect, and I had to admit that the idea excited me too.
“Maybe.”
I hated not telling Danika what I had seen at the party, but I always fell back on the fact that if I was supposed to be the one to tell her, she would have been home that night. And she wasn’t. So, nothing had changed.
“Chance! Mac! Get your asses over here,” Coach Jackson yelled.
We scrambled down to where he stood in the dugout. The rest of my teammates watched, and I was embarrassed for being so blatantly called out.
“Coach,” we both addressed him at the same time.
“What the hell is so interesting in the stands?” he asked, craning his head to look out toward the half-filled stadium.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head, and Mac responded in kind.
“Then, keep your eyes on the field. Heads in the game,” he demanded even though the game hadn’t started.
The visiting team was still taking infield, but we didn’t dare argue.
“Yes, Coach,” I said before punching Mac in the arm as we headed away.
We stopped about halfway, leaning our arms against the bars that separated the dugout from the field, and watched the opposing team finish up.
“Sorry,” Mac apologized for drawing my attention to the stands in the first place and getting us yelled at by Coach.
“It’s fine,” I said as I moved to grab my catcher’s helmet and glove.
It was our turn to take infield and show these guys who they were up against.
I hated to admit that we were a little rusty. We’d racked up three errors in six inn
ings, and that was something we never did. Our team was typically flawless. It was what we were known for. Coach Jackson was pissed, his face as red as a tomato even though we were still winning by two runs. Our pitchers were off, missing my calls and missing their marks. I had to work extra hard behind the plate to catch their shitty pitches and frame them as strikes, which was fine, but I was keenly aware that Danika was two rows behind my back, watching my every move.
I’d never dealt with that kind of mental distraction before. Girls always looked at me, waited for me after games, yelled out my name, and shit like that, but I never cared before. I cared now. I cared way too much for my own good.
“Let’s go, Chance!” My mom’s cheerful voice met my ears, and I fought back a smile that no one could see behind my mask anyway.
The runner at first base—where Mac stood, waiting for my throw—taunted me after each pitch snapped into my glove. He kept taking two skitter steps toward second before he moved back, looking like an idiot because I knew he wasn’t running. At least, not yet. His body language gave him away. His legs might have been moving toward second base, but nothing else on his body was. When a runner tried to steal, their entire being was aimed in the same direction. He had to get there faster than I could throw the ball, which was hard to accomplish—and I wasn’t being cocky.
The pitch flew across home plate. The batter swung and missed as the runner at first base took off. But he was too slow, and we both knew it. I threw the ball hard, watching as it flew directly into the shortstop’s glove, waiting at second base.
He tagged the runner, and the umpire screamed, “Out!” before making a hand gesture, signaling the same.
Cheers erupted from the crowd in the stands, but only two voices stood out from the rest—my mom’s and Danika’s. Her accent was undeniable, and again, I wondered to myself what she was doing here.
The rest of the game sailed by without much fanfare. We kept our lead and won by two runs, which made Coach Jackson happy, but he was still pissed about the errors, reminding us that we’d be working extra on fielding since we apparently didn’t remember how to do it right.
