Falling for Centerfield

by Sophia Summers

  “He’s something.” The voice behind her made her jump.

  “Oh! Hello. I’m sorry.”

  A friendly woman stepped closer. “Don’t be. I startled you. I’m sorry. Are you looking for Cole?”

  She started to shake her head then stopped. “Is he here?”

  The woman’s expression turned into a knowing grin. “He sure is.”

  “Then no, I’d better leave.”

  “Oh, come now. Nothing to be afraid of in him.”

  “Afraid? I’m no—” She stopped. She was. Deathly afraid. Shakingly, morbidly afraid of losing her heart to Cole Hunter. But she cleared her throat and put her hands in her pockets. Harlow Ember was not a woman who backed down to fear. Although, apparently she’d borrowed the annoying habit from the Big Dawg of referring to herself in the third person.

  “Sure, okay, where is he?”

  She waved her over to the window that peeked into the gym. “He’s over there playing with his boys.”

  His boys? Cole threw the ball in a threesome, laughing and talking to the two young boys. Luther and Johnny, the two her boss had asked her about. “Does he usually play with those two?”

  “Sure does. Helps with their case worker too. They were so blessed to catch his eye. Strange, really, why them out of everyone here, but he’s taken to them, that’s for sure.” Her eyes were warm, and the way she stared out on the scene, Harlow could tell she approved.

  She stepped outside, approaching quietly, hoping to sneak up on them, but Cole looked up immediately, and his face broke out into such a huge grin her heart melted. “Bonfire!” he winced a little and then said, “Or is it Ember today?”

  She smiled, small, hopeful maybe. “I’m feeling pretty mellow.”

  “Excellent. Let’s get this woman a mitt!”

  She ran to the side wall and picked up an old and worn-looking mitt and headed back. The boys looked stubbornly resistant, and Cole’s tone was placating. “Playing with four is much better than three.”

  She hid her grin. Sounded like the boys weren’t too thrilled about adding another member to their group. “Hey, I remember you guys. Luther, weren’t you on my dodgeball team?”

  His eyes lit up. “Yeah! When we beat him!” His small thumb pointing in Cole’s direction looked proud.

  “That’s right.” She flashed a victory smile at Cole who rolled his eyes.

  Luther seemed more satisfied with her intrusion, and Johnny must follow Luther’s lead because he tossed the ball back to Cole without another word.

  The four of them played for about ten more minutes. Harlow just listened to the boys banter back and forth with Cole, and then the director called everyone back for their group activity.

  The boys were obviously disappointed, but they ran at Cole’s legs and squeezed their tiny arms around him. As she approached, she heard the whisper, “Bye, Dad.”

  And then they took off across the floor to the group that had already gathered and was waiting for them.

  Harlow was stunned. Dad? She didn’t know what to say, what to think even. Dad? Was Cole their dad? Everything seemed to come together right in that moment. His attention to just them, his frequent visits, her editor’s suspicion about his motives. Cole is their father.

  He turned warm, misty eyes back to her and then took a step back. “Whoa, am I imagining things, or did the bonfire return?”

  “Oh no, I’m fine, a couple things are just falling into place for me here.”

  He looked uneasy, eyed her a few times. Then he said, “Let’s go grab some food.”

  “Don’t you want to go hang out some more with your kids?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around his parentage.

  He tilted his head to the side, obviously confused. “I’ve been with them all day. The center has activities for them until their parents come and get them for the day.”

  “You visit them a lot. It’s obvious you love these boys.”

  His eyes turned soft. “I really do. When I think of what I could have been . . .”

  “And what about their mother?” Her voice came out more strangled sounding than she would have liked.

  Cole looked at her strangely. “She’s a real piece of work. So they’re with foster parents.” He stepped closer, his smile growing. “Who are trying right now to adopt them. Got the news today. I’ve never been happier for a couple of kids.”

  She smiled. “That’s great!” But why didn’t he just take them in? He could certainly afford to. Why were they even in foster care at all if their mother was unsuitable to care for them? Her anger started brewing again as the initial shock wore off. And how could he keep flirting with women everywhere? How could he continue to be a player when he had children in the world, when the results of obviously irresponsible behavior had brought them here? How many more children did he have scattered all over the country?

  All her women’s fire started flaming inside. His irresponsible behavior. The unsuitable mother had been left with the care of the kids. She clenched her hands into fists. And what had he been doing this whole time? Riding the fame and glory of baseball through college and into the MLB.

  She shook her head. “Cole, I don’t want to go grab food after all. I’m busy tonight.” Then she turned around and walked away.

  He jogged after her. “Wait a minute, you seem upset. I want to talk about that press conference a little bit.”

  She seethed. And counted to five. And told herself it would be better not to speak, but how could he bring that up, right now, when she was already sick at heart at the way he had treated those children. It was no use. She tried to stay calm but a torrential response poured from her mouth.

  “I seem upset? I am upset. How could you dismiss my women’s meeting as if it were inconsequential? I know you support the cause, unless you were lying to us too. You’re lying to someone. Who is it?” She waved her hands around. “Never mind, don’t answer that. How could you treat those boys the way you have?”

  He stepped back. “What are you talking about? What boys?”

  “Luther and Johnny. They deserve better from you. I can’t even handle it, or stand to be around you, knowing what you’ve done.”

  “Okay, whoa, whoa, whoa. What have I done? They’re some of my favorite people. I come here . . .You know, wait a minute, I don’t need to detail what I do for them to you. That’s nobody’s business.”

  “I’m sure you’re hoping it all stays a big secret. Don’t want to tarnish your precious reputation.”

  “Yes, it absolutely better stay out of the press. Look, Harlow, I don’t like that every time I talk to you lately I have to remind you to keep things private. Should I be afraid to share myself with you? Worry you’re going to spout it out to the world?”

  “I have my journalistic responsibilities.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, my duty to tell the truth, to share the news.”

  He shook his head. “You’re really something. Every time I think I know you, something like this happens. You don’t even know what you’re talking about, I’m sure of it. Is nothing sacred? Do the words, right of privacy or right of publicity mean nothing to you?”

  “Afraid someone will find out about your sketchy history with these boys?”

  “What sketchy history? What are you even talking about, Harlow?”

  “I could ask you the same.” Her anger was motivated by her own disillusionment, by her disappointment that Cole really wasn’t someone she could pursue, by her own sadness that it wouldn’t work out. “I thought you weren’t like every other athlete on the planet. Why can’t you just be a good guy?”

  He opened his mouth, eyes wide, then a cloud passed across his face, and his mouth closed in a thin line. “I see how it is with you. I’ll never be good enough. You’ll always hold this opinion about jocks. Well, if you’re gonna make stuff up, I can’t fight against that. If you won’t answer my calls, won’t even text back, won’t get a simple meal, and then accuse me of I don’t even know what,
then we’re finished before we even started.” He crossed his arms, everything about his stance challenging.

  Harlow stepped away, turned to face the door and ran out, away from Cole, away from his accusing eyes, because if she didn’t run, she would fall into his arms and beg to stay by his side, but how could she when everything she learned about him proved he was wrong for her in every way? She shuddered, thinking about tomorrow and the next day and the one after that. If she didn’t get answers now, she would never get them. She stopped. And turned around. If she didn’t work this out now, she would never know. “They’re your kids.” The words came out as a whisper and Cole leaned forward.

  “What?”

  “They’re your kids.” She pointed in the direction of Luther and Johnny and all the other kids.

  “What are you talking about? The boys? Luther and Johnny?”

  “Yes.” She was afraid of what he might say, afraid of the truth, but held her ground. The conversation couldn’t get any worse than it already was.

  “Of course they’re my boys . . . wait a minute, but they’re not mine, like literally.” He tilted his head in confusion. “Is that what you’re saying? That I’m . . .”

  “Their father. You are.”

  “What?” He staggered back two steps before his face hid the shock her comment had caused. “Of all the things to think, this is what you think of me?”

  “Well, sure, what else am I to think?”

  “I don’t know, anything but the fact that I brought children into the world and then abandoned them. Really, Harlow after all I told you about my past, after everything you know about me, this is coming from your prejudice about jocks, isn’t it? I will never be good enough. I’m always going to be measured against some predisposed evil you assume of me. And I can’t take that. It’s not too much to expect that the woman in my life, at least her, think the best of me.”

  His face twisted in pain, and she began to see the possible error of her thoughts. “But he called you Dad.”

  A portion of his face softened for a moment, but she saw the coldness, saw it descend and knew he was lost to her. “They don’t have another strong father figure in their lives, not really. We’re working on the foster father, but they’ve known me longer.” He choked, and his mouth lowered. For a moment, Harlow thought he might cry. “Breaks my heart every time they say the words.”

  “Oh, Cole . . .”

  He held up a hand. “Don’t. We both know this is never ever going to work out between us.”

  Harlow opened her mouth and then closed it. Then nodded. “You’re right.” She waved her hand and turned and ran out the door.

  Chapter 21

  Cole sat on the bench for the first time in weeks when the team went to the outfield. No explanation from the skipper, just a smug walk-by from Joe. And Cole didn’t even care. His dad was getting worse instead of better, and the more he thought about life without the man, baseball particularly felt pointless. As he thought about playing the game without his dad, he began to wonder why he played. Was all this effort all these years just something he did to please his father? Surely not.

  But while he sat on the bench, watching someone take his sweet spot without even caring, he began to wonder.

  Tate sat down next to him. “What’s eating you?”

  “A lot of junk. That’s what.”

  He handed him a bag of seeds.

  Cole peered inside, smelling them. “Popcorn flavor. Interesting.”

  “Better than bacon.”

  Cole had to give him that. He put a handful in his mouth, situated them in a ball at his cheek. “Not bad.”

  “So, this junk.”

  Cole liked Tate. But he didn’t want any of this talked about. “I don’t know, man. Everything’s falling apart. Pick a thing, that’s my junk.” He shrugged.

  “I heard Stacy talking. He didn’t like you being national news back there in the field talking it up with your girlfriend.” He spit seed shells in a cup. “But that was weeks ago. Who knows what’s eating him right now.”

  Cole almost said, She’s not my girlfriend, but what was the point? “Why does he even care?” Cole’d about had it with the owner. As soon as his contract was up, he was moving. If his dad was feeling any better, he would have already talked to him about getting the feelers out. Maybe he should tell his agent to start in earnest.

  Tate leaned back against the wall behind them. The crack of bat against ball had them up against the fence. “Straight out to center.”

  Cole tensed. “He’s too far right. Go. Move, Joe!” But he was too slow. Cole knew he missed it before it even dropped. His gaze met Skip’s. And the man had the decency to look apologetic.

  After the game in the locker room, just about everyone nudged him or punched his shoulder or gave him their “tough luck, man” comments. His was a raw deal right then, and he wasn’t sure what else to do with it. Skip called him into his office.

  Before Cole could even sit, he handed him an invitation. “Owner wants all the players there. Your ticket will be at the door.”

  “What’s this?”

  “Black tie gala. He wants you to take a date.”

  “Just me?”

  “Well anyone can bring an ‘and one,’ but he said to take someone you could tweet about.”

  Cole could tell the manager wanted to roll his eyes.

  “And this relates to baseball, how? I’ll be honest, I’m getting tired of all the special attention.”

  “He’s been watching the other California teams. They’ve got a huge social media presence, their sales are up, and they have whole initiatives to get the fans tweeting, hashtags and whatnot. The game’s not just about catching balls in the outfield.”

  “So I keep hearing.”

  “We need bodies in the seats.”

  “I wish there was a way that didn’t involve my dating life.”

  “I’m sure Mr. Stacy’d love anything that gets the fans coming. Ticket and merch sales are down. He’s worried about the program too, not just his own bottom line.”

  Cole snorted, but he started thinking. “He brought me on because of the Belltown hype.” Maybe he could get his brothers involved. As an only child, the Six Pack always felt like brothers to him. He reached for the ticket. A gala. For the team. He’d heard mention of it, but with everything going on, he hadn’t planned on attending. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Honestly, when it didn’t matter to him, he usually just found a girl at the event, but this sounded like the kind of thing people planned ahead for. Who could he ask? He stood up to leave. The only girl he wanted to seek out for company currently hated him, thought he’d fathered children and then left them to the foster care system. He grimaced again thinking about it. Did he give off irresponsible dad vibes? What could have made her think such a thing about him? It tore at him because having to overcome the awful knowledge that he was abandoned as a child, that if not for his parents he would have been left to the same system . . . no, he couldn’t ask Harlow. He thought about taking anyone else. Mr. Stacy said to bring someone he could tweet about.

  #HeckleHarlow had become a Twitter sensation. Could he bring Harlow? As a friend? They were a great publicity team. He still planned to attend her women’s rally. The committee had sent him a reminder about it just a few days ago. Maybe. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and nearly ran into someone.

  “Oh, sorry.” He caught himself. And groaned. Joe.

  He stepped back to nod and walk around him, but Joe held up a hand. “Look, Cole.”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Nothing about how to catch a ball. I’ve had coaches too. I don’t need another session from you. If you didn’t notice, you dropped the ball out there.”

  Joe winced, and Cole immediately regretted his words, but he’d had enough.

  “I just wanted to say sorry. I know I don’t belong here. I’m caught in some power battle between you and Stacy. I’ll just do my part and shut up and hope someone picks me
up when this is all over.” He turned and walked away.

  Cole gritted his teeth and then said, “Joe. You’re all right.”

  Joe nodded his head and kept walking.

  Cole held the phone up. Harlow. He pushed talk. Ringing. She might just ignore him again like she had for weeks.

  “What is it, Cole?”

  He grinned. “Bonfire!”

  “Yes.”

  “Hey, I need a favor.”

  The pause lasted about as long as he expected. Finally, she said, “What’s up?”

  “It’s another publicity thing. I know we aren’t really a team, we definitely can’t even manage to be friends, we don’t get along at all, but we are good at publicity together and that’s what I need right now.”

  Another pause. “What’s involved?”

  He laughed, nervous all of a sudden. “Well, I.” He cleared his throat. Get a hold of yourself. She was going to have a heyday with this. “I need a date.”

  “You must be more than desperate if you’re coming to me for that kind of company.”

  “Hear me out. I need someone I can tweet about later is what the owner told me. And you and I tend to get all kinds of interest. I was hoping we could put our heads together and work out a way to help me be a marketing asset to the team?” He waited, the silence stretching his nerves.

  “We still on for the women’s rally?”

  “You bet. It can be a trade. My thing for your thing.” He ran a hand through his hair. “No, you know what? I’m coming to Seneca Falls no matter what you decide.” He held his breath.

  “Okay, you’re on. What do I need to do? Should I bring my Little Dawg shades?”

  Her playful tone brought some measure of relief. “I’d love the whole getup, jersey, leggings, shades . . . but, it’s a gala, formal. And it’s tomorrow.”

  “What!”

  “I can fly you in. I’ll send the jet.”

  “These things take a little bit of prep. Is this a huge deal? Like the gala for the team they have each year?”