Third Base (The Boys of Summer #1)

by Heidi McLaughlin

My dad moves his hands to my shoulders, shakes his head and pulls me into another hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  He takes my bag and I follow him to the car. It’s the same car we had when I was in high school. I tried to buy them a new one when I signed my contract with the Renegades, but they took the money and started a college fund for Shea, something I was planning to do anyway. My parents won’t take anything from me, and it’s sort of nice, but also a pain in the ass because they’ve done so much for me that I want to help them out and make sure they’re comfortable. They refuse to let me help them though.

  The drive to my parents’ house takes about a half hour. Seattle and Boston aren’t all that different when you compare the two. Both are harbor cities, although in Boston it’s called “the harbah”. Both have these amazing waterfronts, along with excellent places to eat and shop. Faneuil Hall and Quincy Market remind me of Pike’s Market, minus the fish throwing. And the weather is similar. I think that is why I love Boston so much; it feels like home and has since the day I arrived.

  I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until the car shuts off. “Sorry for dozing,” I say to my dad as I come to and reach for the handle. No sooner do I step out of the car and shut the door than I hear my mother squealing. Her arms are flung around me before I have a chance to gather myself and we fall back against the car.

  “You’re home,” she says sweetly into my shoulder.

  “I am. I wish it were for longer though.” I set my mom down, and she cups my cheeks.

  “Promise me you’ll come home this winter.”

  “I promise,” I tell her, meaning it. There really isn’t a reason for me to stay in Boston through the winter. The housekeeping service I use can check on my house, or I can sublet it to someone. Coming home will do me some good.

  “Let’s go inside. Shea is sleeping on the couch. She’s been waiting for you. Shana is heating up your plate.”

  “The only one missing is Mike.” My mother frowns, turning away to go into the house. She worries about my brother-in-law and knows how much stress my sister is under while he’s gone. Each time he leaves, Shana and Shea move in with my parents because my mom doesn’t want Shana to be alone. Mike’s a great guy and I’m proud of him. I only wish he were home to watch my niece grow up; although I don’t have much room to talk since I’m not home either.

  As soon as I step into the kitchen, the smell of home washes over me. My sister is behind the counter, looking as beautiful as ever, with her dark hair piled high on her head. She wears a Proud Army Wife t-shirt and once we make eye contact, she’s sprinting toward me. I pick her up and hold her, telling her how much I’ve missed her. I don’t care if it was last week or six months ago when I saw them last – we’re a close family and being apart from them really sucks.

  “Shea is going to be so excited that her Unc is home.”

  “I can’t wait to take her to the field tomorrow.” I set my sister down and look her over. She’s seemed to age since the last time I saw her, not that I’m going to tell her that. Mike’s tours must be getting to her. “How are you, Shana?”

  “I’m good. I stay busy with work and Mike calls a lot.”

  “When’s he coming home?”

  “Soon,” she says, nodding. “It’ll be soon.” Shana doesn’t say anything more on the subject and walks away when the microwave beeps.

  “Your bag is in your room,” my dad says, returning from down the hall. I was so wrapped up in seeing my sister that I didn’t even know he had come into the house. As I look around the kitchen, nothing has changed and yet everything seems so much smaller than the last time I was here. I’m so used to my open floor plan and how everything is bright in my house. My parent’s kitchen is dated and dark. The cabinets have to be from the seventies, and even though the appliances were replaced while I was in high school, they’re outdated now.

  From where I’m standing, I can see into the family room. The cream colored carpet needs to replaced, walls could use a fresh coat of paint and the curtains updated. I know my parents won’t let me buy them a new house, but they never said anything about remodeling.

  “You should let me remodel your house,” I say as I sit down. My sister puts a hot plate of food down in front of me, and I instantly dig in, having missed the taste of a home cooked meal. She sits to my left with my mom on my right and my dad across from me. I know they hate it when I try to spend money on them, but it’s something I can afford to do and want to do this for them.

  “We don’t need your money, Ethan.” My mom says, putting her hand on my forearm. “You’re going to need it someday.”

  “Mom, if I spend that much money in my lifetime, something is seriously wrong with me.”

  “Maybe you should take him up on the offer,” Shana says. I smile at her, silently thanking her for taking my side.

  “I tried to buy you a car, but you gave the money to Shea.”

  “She needed a college fund,” my mom retorts.

  “That I would’ve set up for her!” I counter, putting my fork down. I look at my parents, hoping to convey that I’m serious. “You guys worked your tails off for Shana and me. We had the best of everything. Let me do this for you.” I turn to my mom and pick up her hand. “I know you have a Pinterest board full of ideas for the house. Let me make that happen.”

  “How do you know about my Pinterest?” I don’t know if she’s surprised I know what Pinterest is, or that I know about her board.

  “Shana told me.” I wink at her, earning an eye roll. They may balk and try to change my mind, but deep down they know I can do this for them and will. I look at my sister who is beaming. “You can start making some calls.”

  Mom lets out a big screech before covering her mouth, hoping to have not awakened Shea.

  I let out a loud snore after Shea pats me on the cheeks. She laughs and I can no longer pretend to be sleeping. Rolling over, I grab ahold of her and start tickling her sides. Her laughter is the best medicine and worth being woken up for. My niece is wearing a Boston Renegades shirt and even without rolling her over I know it says Davenport on the back along with my number.

  Last night, even as we carried on with kitchen planning, the excitement from my mom and Shana’s voices didn’t wake Shea. I know it was for the best, but I miss her and want to spend as much time as possible with her. My saving grace is that I’ll be flying back by myself since we have an off day after we finish this series with the Mariners. When we do this, we run the risk of flights being delayed, but it’s worth it. I need time with my family.

  “Hi, Unc,” she says, as she sits back on her knees. Shea’s tooth-filled smile is beaming and her baby blue eyes sparkle. I pull to her me and kiss her cheek, pretending to eat her ear. “Nooooo, monser,” she screams while laughing and tries to push me away.

  My door opens and Shea scrambles under my blankets to hide from my mom. “Have you seen Shea,” she asks as she sits on the edge of my bed.

  I shake my head. “Nope, last time I saw her she was sleeping on the couch.”

  My mom sighs dramatically and Shea snuggles into my side. “Well, I just don’t know what I’m going to do Ethan. I wanted to take Shea to the park today and thought we could stop and get some ice cream, but if she’s lost –”

  “Here I is!” she yells as she throws the covers up and away from her. My mom jumps in surprise and covers her mouth, causing Shea to laugh. Her blonde hair is a mess, and she has to use two hands to push it out of her face.

  “Oh my goodness, Grammie thought she lost you.” My mom pretends to pout, and that clearly upsets Shea. Without hesitation, she’s crawling into my mom’s arms, patting her face and saying, “no, no, no, Grammie.” I think Shea is one of the best things that has happened to us, which is saying a lot because we have a great family.

  “What time do you have to be at the field?”

  I don’t know why, but I look at the clock that has always sat on my nightstand. Even today, my
room is the same with my dark blue walls, oak desk and shelves that hold all of my trophies. The last time I was home I offered to clean it out, box up my stuff and put it in the garage, but my parents said no. They said this would always be my room. Shana’s was the same too, until she had Shea, and then it quickly became a nursery.

  “No later than three,” I say as I sit up, my comforter falling away and exposing my chest. Shea laughs and says to my mom loudly, “Unc nakie.”

  “Yes he is. Maybe we should leave so Unc can get dressed.” My mom picks up Shea, much to Shea’s displeasure. She screams, piercing our eardrums and reaches for me. My mom’s a pro though and doesn’t let Shea’s little tantrum bother her.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” I tell them both. As soon as my mom closes my door, I’m reaching for my phone. I know I shouldn’t care if she’s texted, but I do. When I press the home screen, it’s only Sarah’s name that displays. She’ll be at the game tonight, sitting behind home plate with my parents, Shana and Shea. And after the game I’ll be going to her place for an adult style sleepover where neither of us has to get up and go home in the middle of the night or worry about a three-year old barging in once the sun is up.

  I shower quickly before dressing and heading downstairs for breakfast. Shea is sitting at the table, in her booster seat, picking at her pancakes. Her hair, while still messy, is now sticking to the side of her face with syrup. I sit down next to her, but far enough away that her hands can’t touch me, and dish up a plate of food. Aside from the pancakes, there are eggs, bacon, and hash browns, which on the West Coast are shoe string potatoes cooked together. This is how I prefer my hash browns. Not like how they’re cooked in New England.

  My mom doesn’t always cook like this either, and right now I’m very grateful. There’s nothing better than starting your day off right with a home cooked breakfast.

  “How’s your friend?” my mom asks, as she sits down at the table with a cup of coffee. She sips it cautiously before setting her mug down on the table. I set my fork down and swallow what I have in my mouth.

  “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Things are difficult, I guess.”

  “What do you mean, you guess?”

  I pour myself some orange juice and down my glass before refilling it. “I got mad at her last week for reading one of the blogs that’s always posting gossip and rumors. Early on, when she and I started talking, she mentioned some of the rumors and I was defensive.”

  “Rightly so,” my mom throws in for good measure.

  “Stone has me taking a media class, which is more like a chapter in their textbook because I only have to do it for two weeks, but it’s on the same campus where she attends school. I thought I’d surprise her on the first day and when I got to her computer station, she was reading the blog. When I asked her about it later, she became defensive, saying journalists stick together and started going on about freedom of speech.”

  “Is that what she’s studying?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So she chose to follow the path that many journalists have carved out. They’re all about protecting their sources, their voice, and their rights to freedom of speech.”

  I lean back in the chair and fiddle with my fork. “I’m all for freedom of speech, but when it’s lies to sell your product, in this case a high traffic blog that reports crap, I can’t support that. I’ve told her as much too.”

  My mom rests her hands together on the table, but doesn’t say anything. Even as I tell the story, I’m not sure it makes any sense. Everything that went down didn’t need to. I think about calling her, but I’m not sure I have anything to say right now. Once this road trip is over, I’ll see her and can honestly say I don’t know if I’ll talk to her. Those thoughts actually hurt. It also hurts that she hasn’t reached out to me to apologize. Hell, maybe I’m the one who needs to grovel.

  “I think it was a fair request.”

  “I thought so.”

  “You like her though?”

  I nod and pick my fork up. I hate to admit that I like Daisy, but the truth is I do. I could see myself with her in the future. None of that matters now though.

  “Maybe she’ll come around,” mom says as she stands and starts clearing the table.

  “Maybe I’ll hit for the cycle.”

  My mom laughs, but I don’t find that funny. “Stranger things have happened, Ethan. Sometimes you just have to put all your eggs in the basket and pray you don’t drop it.”

  “Well, if I do that I may not have any eggs left. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” I look at her questioningly, willing her to hit me with a witty comeback.

  “When you stand at the plate, what are you doing?”

  I scratch my head, pondering her question. “Batting?” I say with hesitation.

  “Taking a risk,” she says. “You don’t know if you’re going to walk, get a hit, foul out, or get hit by a pitch, but you stand there, repeatedly, over and over again. Sometimes the risks are worth it.”

  Mom stands and starts cleaning off the table. When she reaches for my plate I put my hand down on her wrist and shake my head no. I’m not done eating. I refuse to let her risk her life by stealing my food.

  “In coming,” I yell, giving the guys ample time to cover up before I bring Shea into the club house. This isn’t a surprise visit by any means, but I do need to warn them to make sure their potty mouths are zipped up tight because she’s three and repeats everything.

  Shea is on my shoulders when I walk in, having to duck under the doorway so she doesn’t hit her head. All the guys love her and reach up to give her a high-five once we’re inside. She is, of course, decked out in full BoRe fashion even though she’s being bred as a Mariner fan. Her legs move back and forth the more attention she gets and as soon as I put her down, she’s running in a full sprint around the room. Club houses are big kid playgrounds for the most part, but even the littlest of kids can have fun in here.

  When Shea runs by Branch Singleton, he scoops her up in his arms and spins her around while making airplane noises. Singleton has a son, but he never gets to see him. I don’t know all the specifics, but the baby mama drama was too much, and he doesn’t like to talk about it. I do know he pays a shit ton in child support and that his son lives in Phoenix where the mother moved after the baby was born.

  I let the guys entertain Shea, although it’s likely the other way around with the way she has them all wrapped around her finger, while I get ready. For being three, she’s outgoing and loves attention. Shana and my parents ensure that she experiences a lot of different social situations in order to teach her about stranger danger.

  Once I’m dressed and ready, I hold Shea’s hand as we walk down the corridor leading to the field. She wears cleats, like me, only hers have plastic spikes and her tiny baseball glove is tucked under her arm. Mine is already in the dugout, waiting for me.

  My dad is waiting for us at the top of the dugout since he’ll be keeping a close eye on Shea during warm-ups. He and Cal Diamond, our manager, are in an in-depth conversation, but he makes eye contact with me briefly as Shea and I climb the steps and step out onto the field.

  “I’ll take her with me, if you want to hit,” Kidd says, as he stands near us.

  “Me too,” Bainbridge says. With both of them being in the outfield, she has less of a chance to get hurt.

  “Do you want to go with Steve and Travis to the outfield?” I ask her, pointing toward the outfield. She clutches my hand a bit tighter and tries to mold herself to my leg. I imagine being three and looking around the baseball field. This place is enormous for an adult, so the size must be overwhelming to a toddler. It takes under a minute until she decides that yes, she does in fact want to be out there.

  In a picture perfect moment, my niece is walking hand-in-hand with my best friend and mentor, and the people that are here early are eating up every minute of it.

  “Hey, Stud.”

  The sound of Sarah’s voice comes from behind me. T
he nickname she gave me in high school, sticking even today. When I turn to see her, my world shifts on its axis. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe a white coat with her dark brown hair in a bun for starters. Instead, I’m graced with the woman I was once madly in love with wearing a version of a BoRe t-shirt that I’ve never seen before, showing off her curves and ample cleavage. She beckons me with her finger and, as if it had me on a string, I’m walking toward her.

  “Hey, Doc,” I say, taking her all in. “Although, I have to say, you don’t look much like a doctor to me right about now.”

  When Sarah smiles, her light brown eyes light up. She’s beautiful, always has been. And I’d be a fool to ever tell her no.

  “We can play doctor later,” she whispers into my ear, sending a jolt right to my cock.

  “I look forward to it.” I back away slowly, trying to undress her with my eyes. I know what’s waiting for me. Hell, I watched her transform from a girl to woman while I caressed every inch of her body. That’s a definite benefit from being her boyfriend for so long.

  I wink before turning away and adjust myself. As soon as my hand touches my cup, I count one in my head. I’ll be sure to tweet the BoRe Blogger how many times an adjustment was made tonight so his statistical count isn’t skewed.

  Nothing makes me happier than a win. Actually that may not be completely true because the idea of getting laid has me pretty damn ecstatic right now. The win makes our manager happy, and the fact that it was a close victory, with a late two-run shot by Branch, puts a shit-eating grin on his face. With back-to-back road wins, it’s a boost in the standings.

  My routine is different this time around. I’m not going to linger in the clubhouse nor am I going to shower. The sooner I arrive at Sarah’s, the sooner this pent up frustration will be released. She made the game almost unbearable today with her shy finger waves, blowing kisses and yelling crude comments about my ass when I was in the on-deck circle. Even though she was sitting next to my parents, she didn’t hold back. My sister encourages Sarah’s behavior and even though Shana is happily married she has no qualms about cat-calling my teammates who, in turn, give her what she calls the “sexy eyes”.