Swing

by Adriana Locke

  I start to respond, but Lincoln’s squeeze stops me. Instead, he chuckles.

  “No one is keeping you here.” He looks at my mother and then at my father. When they don’t move, he laughs. “I’m here with Dani because I’m in a new season of my life. Today is opening day.”

  My eyes blur again and I lean my head against him. I breathe him in, all expensive cologne and male testosterone, and feel safe in the midst of my parents for the first time. For once, I don’t have to battle them. Their ferocity isn’t aimed at me. He’s protecting me and it feels better than I even imagined it would.

  “The trophies in the guest bedroom don’t talk back. They don’t keep me company or warm at night. They don’t play catch and they don’t drink coffee with me in the morning.”

  He looks down at me and chuckles at the smile on my face. “A mess,” he whispers, swiping at my tears. “A total mess.” I giggle as he kisses my forehead and looks back to my parents.

  “You’re just like Ryan,” my father blows. “A kid born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You have no drive. No—”

  “Say what you want about me,” Lincoln booms over top my dad, “but don’t talk about her. You know less about her than you know about me.”

  “She’s our daughter. What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “You can rattle off my statistics, my contract terms, my health report. What do you know about Dani?”

  They look at Lincoln like he’s just asked them the equation for world peace. Their silence is so loud, the lack of response deafening.

  “If I’m like her,” Lincoln says, “then my mom will be proud. In my family, love isn’t predicated on wins and losses, fame or persona. It’s about who we are as people. What we are all about when all that shit is stripped away.”

  “You know nothing about Ryan.” My mother eyes me like I’m an inconvenience. “You need to focus on what matters, Lincoln.”

  “I am.”

  My father eyes me with the hollowness I’ve come to expect. There’s no love in his gaze, no adoration. No humor or pride like I’ve seen in the Landry family. No empathy like I see in Lincoln’s eyes. “I hope you’re happy, Ryan. You’ve just fucked up this man’s life beyond repair.” He jerks my mother along as they stride towards the front door, anger seeping off of him as his hand hits the knob.

  “She will be happy. I’ll see to it.” Lincoln’s voice is loud and clear in the foyer as we step to the side and let them pass. “You can help that out too by not coming around again.”

  “You will not tell me what I’m going to do, with my own child at that!” My dad turns on his heel and faces Lincoln, his face red.

  “I’m not a child!” I shake off Lincoln’s grip, and for the first time in my life, face my father head-on. “I’m a grown woman, one that has nothing in common with you but some DNA.”

  “Listen to you,” Dad seethes. “We haven’t seen you in God knows when and you talk to us like this!”

  Lincoln’s hand finds me and he gently, yet forcefully, moves me back. He steps between my father and I. “You need to leave. Now.”

  “We—”

  “Now,” Lincoln repeats, a vein in his temple starting to pulse. “You will not stand in front of me and talk to her like that.”

  “And what are you going to do about it, you little punk?”

  “There’s nothing more tempting right now than slamming my fist in your face. But I won’t do that . . . because of her. She’ll just have to deal with it, and you’ve given her a lifetime of shit to work through, you fucking assholes.”

  My mother gasps. My father shakes from the wrath radiating off him. Lincoln stands calm and cool.

  It’s a scene from a movie, one that makes me swoon when I watch it on the big screen. I’m too caught up in the moment to do much but watch with an open mouth.

  “Leave,” Lincoln tells them, flicking the door handle. It swings open, the early afternoon air rustling through the house. “Now. And don’t come back. Whatever obligations you feel towards Dani, consider them taken over by me. She doesn’t need you. Now go.”

  My father steps to Lincoln and they square off, their noses nearly touching. Lincoln doesn’t flinch. My father shakes harder until my mother wraps her hands around his bicep and guides him out the door, but not before giving me one final disapproving look.

  The door shuts. My shoulders fall with a release of years of stress evaporating. I collapse into Lincoln’s arms.

  There are no tears, just an overwhelming sense of relief—that they’re gone. That I don’t feel picked apart. And that he’s here.

  “Thank you,” I say into his shirt.

  “Stop thanking me,” he chuckles, his body rumbling.

  “God, this feels good.”

  “I hope you mean that you’re in my arms . . .”

  “That,” I giggle, pulling away to look at him, “but also that they’re gone. I’ve never stood up to them. And I guess I didn’t this time either, but you did. For me.”

  “For you.” His eyes are so kind, brimming with emotion that it makes my knees feel weak. “I have something to show you.” When I do, I see he’s extending a set of papers towards me. “My contract.”

  “Congratulations,” I utter. It pains me to say that. I’d hoped he had walked away from it all, but seeing the sheets in his hand, it’s obvious he re-signed with the Arrows. I want to take the crisp white pages and burn them and then take the ashes and dilute them in water and flush them down the toilet. Those fucking papers are destroying my life.

  “Thanks.” He peers into the living room. “What’s up with all the boxes?”

  Stepping away, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I can’t stay here. I’m putting my notice in on Monday.”

  “Where you going?”

  “Boston. My friend Macie lives there and has a job lined up for me.”

  “Boston? It’s too fucking cold in Boston.”

  I pull away and head to the kitchen, needing some kind of buffer between me and him. At least in there, I can separate us with the table so I can think straight.

  “I was thinking something the other direction,” he says, following me. “How about Savannah? I could get you a job there, if that’s what you want.”

  Sighing, I walk around the table and look at him over the top of it. “I don’t need you to get me a job.”

  “I know you don’t. I’m trying to sell you on an idea here, Ryan.”

  “I don’t know where this leaves us now that you’re staying in Memphis. I mean, on one hand, you’re still here so that makes it easier. But on the other, you’re still you and I’m still . . . me. Aren’t we going to be in this same position sooner or later?” I shrug sadly. “I can’t walk this line, knowing what’s coming, Landry. It has to be all or nothing with you.”

  Those beautiful green eyes of his sparkle as his hands find the back of a chair in front of him. He leans his weight on it and smiles. “I pick all.” It’s a simple answer, one that throws me. He slides a stack of papers across the table. “Which is why I was thinking Savannah. But if you have another suggestion, I’m all ears. Just nowhere north of here. I don’t do winter.”

  “What?”

  He motions towards the papers. “Look at those.”

  Everything inside me stills. “Landry . . .”

  “Damn it, Dani. Don’t be so fucking hard-headed,” he laughs. “Look at the papers.”

  They rattle in my hand as I pick them up. The first page is an agreement for trade. It’s a standard contract that I’ve seen in my dad’s office a few times. I flip through until I find a little yellow arrow flag. There’s no signature above his name.

  I don’t trust my voice and, instead, look up at him. He grins. Going back to the papers, white noise filling my ears as more hope than I can handle if this turns bad rushes over me, I find another paper clip. It’s a notice of retirement.

  I drop the papers. They flutter across the tabletop.

  “What did you do
?” I say, my words muffled with the emotion I’m trying desperately to hold back.

  “I’m retiring.”

  “You can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re not thinking. You can’t retire.”

  “I can do whatever the hell I want.”

  His long strides make it around the table and to me in about three steps. We stand inches apart, our breathing heavy as we look at each other. He’s as nervous as I am. I can tell by the rigidity of his shoulders and the way his lips are pressed together. My fingers itch to touch him, my body desperate to hold his, but I don’t. I need to hear what he has to say.

  “I’m retiring,” he says. There’s no question in his tone, no uncertainty. He could be telling me it’s fifty degrees outside with a thirty percent chance of rain.

  “Why? And don’t say because of me or that I won’t go with you because I can’t have that on my conscience.”

  He smiles faintly. “It has nothing, yet everything, to do with you.”

  “Landry . . .”

  “I’ve told you that a baseball player is who I am. It’s my niche. I’m the guy that the rest of the team depends on and the one fans come out to see. It’s exhilarating, Dani. There’s nothing like it.”

  “Which is why—”

  “Seriously,” he laughs. “Just. Let. Me. Talk. You’ll get your chance. I promise.” He shakes his head before continuing. “I only have a few years left of this.”

  “Which is why you have to play!”

  “Cut me off again and I’ll figure out a way to occupy your mouth,” he promises, his eyes shining. I try to glare at him, but can’t, and end up laughing. Even still, my knees are a little weak and I pull out a chair and sit down. He does the same. “As I was saying,” he emphasizes, “I only have a few years, but what do those years consist of? Traveling? Hotels? Maybe a championship and maybe a few batting titles, but I have both of those already. When I think about that, the trade-off, what it takes to get there, it’s just doesn’t have the appeal it used to.”

  He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “My dad told me he got out of politics, which was his passion, because my mom had enough of living as a politician’s wife. He told me she’d never have asked him to quit, but he knew in his gut she wasn’t happy and he’d rather have her and his family than another term. When you told me last night to go, it made me remember that.”

  “I—” I begin, but he squeezes my hand and I stop.

  “My career came to a halt last year because of an injury. It could end this year if I re-injure. Hell, I could die in a fucking plane crash on the way there.”

  “Don’t say that!”

  “I could. And you know what I think about when I think about either of those things?”

  I shake my head.

  “Not a missed title or game or locker room. I think about you. Dani, I love baseball. I love it. But me playing was a pursuit of happiness. It’s what made me feel whole. Important. Needed.”

  My vision is blurred as I listen to his words because I know what’s coming and I’m not prepared. I squeeze his hand and try not to anticipate what’s next because if I’m wrong, I’m done.

  “It’s like meeting you started a new season of my life, Dani. It’s a new field with new rules and new challenges, and that appeals to me so much more than another nine innings on the field. My happiness is now with you. I think yours is with me too.”

  I’m in his arms before I realize I’ve even moved, my head buried in the crook of his neck.

  “I ran this by Graham this morning,” he laughs, “because if anyone can tell you you’re fucking stupid with no reservation, it’s him. He gave it his stamp of approval.”

  It’s like every piece of the puzzle has been snapped back into place. I’m crying, but out of a mixture of disbelief and elation instead of fear and sadness. The one-eighty has my head spinning and I half expect to wake up and find out this is a dream.

  His hands lock around my waist. “I really hope you’re okay with this because, if not, I just gave up my spot on the roster,” he laughs nervously.

  I cup his cheeks, his skin smooth under my touch. “Are you sure? Absolutely one hundred and fifty million percent sure? Because I can’t live thinking you gave up your dream because of me. What if this doesn’t work out?”

  “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll regret this one hundred and . . . how much? Fifty million?” he laughs. “Times less than I would regret playing baseball and wondering if we could’ve worked out. And,” he says, moving his head side to side as he smirks, “G would’ve been pissed when he had to bail me out of jail for beating the shit out of your dad.”

  Laughing, I kiss his lips. “Are you sure? Like, completely sure.”

  He tongue darts across his bottom lip. “I’m completely sure you’ve been eating chocolate donuts,” he chuckles.

  I gasp. “I look like a mess.” I try to get up and already mentally have the shower on when he jerks me back.

  “You are a mess. Which is why I know that we’re going to be fine.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Because you look exactly how I feel. Like when we aren’t together, the world is ending. Because if we aren’t together, maybe it has.” His features alight with mischief.

  Leaning back on him again, I sigh. “I love you, Landry.”

  “I love you, Ryan.”

  Lincoln

  SHE’S STANDING IN THE KITCHEN, her back to me. Her dark hair is a wild mess from last night, her ass only half-covered by my Arrows t-shirt. She has a mug of coffee in one hand, the phone to her ear with the other as she stirs scrambled eggs on the stove.

  I stand in the doorway and watch her. This is what I’ve been looking for, the missing piece of my life that was only visible when everything else was stripped away. I never dreamed I’d be so thankful for my shoulder injury, but I am. God, I am.

  There’s not a play I could make, a hit I could take, a game I could win that would give me the feeling of being with her. The peace in my soul. The happiness in my heart. The feeling of doing something that makes a difference.

  In baseball, I was another player. Number eight. A payroll check, a device to sell tickets until I couldn’t play anymore. To her, I’m everything and can be that for the rest of my life. We can build our own empire together, our own team to take over the world.

  “I called Gretchen this morning,” she says. “I gave my two week’s notice, but she let me leave immediately. I’m going without my vacation pay and all that, but I don’t care.” She sighs happily and then giggles. “I am,” she responds to whatever the person on the line said. “I am so happy. I don’t know what will happen, Macie, but I’m where I should be.”

  I can’t take it anymore. I’m to her, my arms wrapped around her waist in two seconds. She nuzzles her head against me and I kiss the top of her head.

  “No, the program will still go on thanks to an anonymous donor by the name of Lincoln Landry,” she laughs, elbowing me.

  “I didn’t say it was me,” I whisper.

  She rolls her eyes. “Macie, I need to go. I’m burning the eggs.”

  I leave her to say goodbye and pour my own cup of coffee. Once she’s finished, she looks at me. “Gretchen is still talking about that donation.”

  “Did you tell her it was me?”

  Dani’s eyes light up at my admission, but I don’t care. She knows I did it. Or had Graham do it for me. Either way, same difference.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” she says. “That program is so important to those kids.”

  “What if Rockster gets sick again?” I ask. “I have to take care of my man.”

  Danielle laughs and plates our breakfast. We sit at the table, her feet in my lap. “Do we even know what we’re doing?” she asks. “I feel like this all happened so fast.”

  Taking a bite of the eggs, I shrug. “It did happen fast. At least this last part of it. And you know what?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I w
oke up this morning happier than I did when I was drafted. I feel like the bat is in my hands now—not the Arrows’ or my father’s or in limbo. I have it. And it feels good to swing.”

  Her soft smile hits me squarely in the chest. Looking at her without the hesitation she used to have, without the fear, is everything to me. I wouldn’t trade it for the world . . . or fifteen million dollars.

  “Is it odd I don’t feel nervous at all that I don’t have a job or a plan?”

  Laughing, I squeeze her feet on my lap. “No. I’ll take care of you. Graham’s made me a lot of money.”

  She giggles and sits upright. “I have my own money, thank you. But that’s not what I meant. I mean, what are we doing?” she shrugs. “Are we staying here? Going somewhere else? We’re like gypsies right now.”

  “I was thinking we could start someplace new. Together,” I tell her. “It doesn’t matter where to me. I’ll coach at a college or do some personal baseball training. And hopefully, start practicing for those ten kids you want.”

  Her eyes go wide. “One step at a time, Landry.”

  I hold up my hands and laugh. “Okay, okay.”

  She sets her fork on the plate and looks at me soberly. “What would you think about going to Savannah?”

  I force a swallow and sit my fork down too. “Really? You’d want to go there?”

  She nods. “I love it there. It’s beautiful and your family is there and I . . . I think it would be nice.”

  “I would love that. Absolutely love that,” I tell her.

  Smiling, she goes back to her coffee. “I would really like to go soon,” she says, her lips still a little swollen from our kisses this morning.

  “I can call and let everyone know we’ll be at the Farm in the morning.”

  “Sounds perfect to me.”

  Six weeks later

  Danielle

  “SHIT!” GRAHAM DASHES AROUND THE corner and only throws me more off balance. I grab the top of the ladder as it sways to the side and brace for impact. I’m saved as he levels it back out right before it hits the point of no return. “Get down,” he orders in a way only Graham can.