They were always, far and away, his favorite fans.
“Six Pack?” Sawyer repeated, sitting back on his heels. “Now we’re talkin’, Scotty.”
“He’s a Lumberjack at heart, Mr. Bennett,” the father chimed in, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Knew ‘Hail to Belltown’ before he knew the alphabet.”
Sawyer looked back at the kid with a smile. “My man.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Timberline!”
Scotty immediately copied him. “Heave-ho!”
As one, Scotty and Sawyer drummed their hands against their thighs. “Ohhhhhh AND DOWN THEY GO!” they cheered together.
A few whoops and hollers echoed in the airport, and Sawyer laughed, his face actually heating with a strange sense of embarrassment. It was tough to explain the passion that Belltown instilled in him, and just how much being a Lumberjack had meant to him, but there was no denying it was still there.
And he saw the same passion for Belltown in the boy before him.
Grinning, Sawyer took off his hat, a classic Belltown number, and took the permanent marker his mom held out, then signed the bill before handing the cap out to Scotty. “Wear it with pride, Scotty. Represent.”
Scotty immediately put that hat on his head and bent the bill just the way Sawyer and every other baseball player did. “Yes, sir. Thanks, Sawyer!”
“My pleasure. You ever get to play at Ackerman Field, you give me a call. I’ll sit in your cheering section.” He rose and nodded at Scotty’s dad before putting his arm around his mom and continuing towards baggage claim.
“I love when you do that,” his mom told him, patting his chest fondly. “Never gets old.”
“I promise you it does,” Sawyer countered. “But never with Belltown.”
“Your dad would be so proud, Skeet.”
Sawyer fought the urge to stiffen, swallowed instead, and pulled his mom in a little tighter. “Thanks. Now what’s this Rachel tells me about you and some guy getting serious?”
The diversion worked, though it was obvious his mom wasn’t fooled by it. She’d learned not to discuss her late husband with Sawyer, and she respected that boundary for the most part.
She probably thought it was too hard to talk about him, and she would be right.
But not for the reasons she suspected.
He was fairly certain she had no idea what Sawyer had promised him and what was going on within him as time went on and the promise went unfulfilled. He wasn’t inclined to share that with his mom, and definitely not with his sister, and since neither of them had expressed strong opinions about his leaving school for the draft without a degree, he didn’t feel the need to inform them that he was working towards said degree.
Sort of.
They managed to get his bags and get out of the airport without any further attention, and soon enough they were on the road towards Belltown. Normally he slept on this drive, but this morning he felt like watching. His mom chatted for a while, her usual eighties mix playing in the background, and he watched the scenery of eastern New York and then western Massachusetts pass him by. Familiar signs and sights made him smile, and he felt the familiar twinge of excitement coming home always gave him.
Then he saw it. The famous sign just outside of Belltown, hand carved and faded, though restored every two years.
Welcome to Lumberjack Country.
As per tradition, he rolled down his window, stuck his head out, and bellowed, “TIMBERLINE!”
His mother shook her head, laughing. “Sawyer Charles, it is eight thirty a.m. on a Thursday. You’re going to wake someone.”
“Tradition is tradition, Mom,” he replied unapologetically as he rolled the window back up. “As is the drive through campus. Come on, let’s go.”
“You are so demanding,” she complained as she turned towards campus.
Sawyer shrugged. “You’re getting Sinclair’s out of it, remember?” He looked back out at the approaching campus, smiling.
Then he sat forward, focusing on a lone woman walking out of The Glass Onion and turning to walk in the same direction they were driving. Dark hair, rosy complexion, brilliant smile, and startlingly familiar… He wrenched around to try and get a better look, but the road curved and it was impossible.
Surprisingly disappointed, he turned back around, scowling.
“What was that about?” his mom asked, giving him a curious look.
He debated his answer, then exhaled. “I thought I saw Erica Moore.”
There was silence for a moment, and then, “I haven’t thought about her in years. She was always my favorite of your girlfriends. What’s she up to?”
Sawyer shook his head. “I don’t know. We lost touch a while back.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. I wonder what she’d be doing here.”
“Probably wasn’t her, Mom,” he told her. “Pretty sure she moved away.”
“But her family still has the farm. I see Jean every now and then at the market…”
Sawyer let his mom go on, tuning out for the first time. He wasn’t going to pretend to understand why he thought he saw Erica, or why he was disappointed he couldn’t be sure it was her.
But disappointed he was, and his thoughts immediately filled with memories of her and of them.
Strange how welcoming those were.
Just like Belltown.
CHAPTER 2
Campus was bustling, which wasn’t surprising, and it made him even more relaxed about being there. Having picked up another hat from his childhood bedroom, dressed in a hoodie and jeans, backpack over one shoulder, he looked just like every other student there. No one would be looking at him, even in passing, as they would all be focused on getting to their next class or leaving for the afternoon.
He could wander his way around, relive the best days of his life, and enjoy the relative anonymity of being a Lumberjack amid thousands of other Lumberjacks.
And he intended to reminisce in full after he visited the bookstore.
The scores for his philosophy final hadn’t come in yet, but he’d already received seven texts from Mace asking about it. And another three clearly intended to start a philosophical discussion.
Sawyer didn’t care; he wouldn’t ever need these books again, and he had no desire to ever think about philosophy again. He’d already registered for the next round of courses, and he was already thinking about those topics instead.
Well, considering them, at any rate.
In passing.
History of Sport would have some entertainment value, and Museums and Culture should be a walk in the park.
Neither fulfilled any sort of core credit, but he’d just done that with the philosophy class. He deserved something that would relax his brain rather than stress it, especially as they got closer to the season.
No need to pressure himself further.
He took a flyer from a group of girls handing them out, glancing down at it as he headed towards the bookstore.
Free cookies and milk at a meeting for a storytellers’ club.
Once upon a time, he would have gone to something like that just for the free food and likelihood of cute girls. Being something of a celebrity had its perks back in the day, and the Six Pack had loved every second of it.
Maybe not every second, but certainly most of them.
He nodded at a professor he recognized as he neared the bookstore and opened the door, stepping back to hold it open for a young woman exiting.
“Thank you,” she said in a familiar voice he couldn’t place.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, smiling politely as he tried to look her over to help his memory out.
She froze, then looked up at him, and recognition dawned on him with the power of a jab to his solar plexus.
“Sawyer Bennett,” she said slowly, her mouth curving in a perfect smile he recalled well, a slight dimple adding to the experience.
He felt himself smiling without any effort at all. “Erica Moore.”
She laughed and immediately pulled him into a warm hug. “Oh my gosh! What are you doing here?”
Sawyer chuckled as he hugged her back; the scent of rose and honey filled his senses, almost nostalgic in its warmth. “It is my hometown, Erica.”
Erica punched him in the arm as she pulled out of the embrace. “Mine, too, genius.”
He rubbed at the sudden stinging in his arm. “Ow! Preseason, Teach! You’ll ruin me.”
“You’ll survive,” she muttered dryly, still smiling.
“And Belltown is not your hometown,” he retorted. “You live in Mackenzie. Technically.”
She skewered him with a look. “Home of Big Mack himself, which makes me more Lumberjack than you.”
He gaped and gasped for effect. “Take it back.”
She folded her arms and cocked a hip. “Nope.”
Now Sawyer laughed and pulled her in for another hug. Somehow he’d forgotten how much he liked Erica as a person, and not just when they had dated. They’d been friends long before any of that, and good friends too. She was funny, she was fresh, and she seemed to find joy in simply living. And she was wickedly mischievous. At least a third of his pranks had been captained by her, though he would never admit that.
And he suddenly realized just how much he’d missed her. “Oh, it’s good to see you, Teach. You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Same to you!” she quipped. She stepped back and tucked a windblown section of her long brown hair behind an ear, her bright-blue eyes nearly matching the sky above them. “Except for that. What is that?” She gestured to his chin.
He scratched at his well-tamed scruff. “What, this? It’s attractive; everybody says so.”
“Do they?” she commented with a raised brow. “Huh. I thought Grizz was the hairy one.”
Sawyer scowled playfully. “He is, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us are hairless.”
Erica grinned and shook her head. “My gosh. What are you doing here, Sawyer?”
He jerked a thumb towards the athletic-complex side of campus. “Halftime of the game tomorrow. They’re honoring the Six Pack.”
“Are they?” She snorted in disbelief. “Nobody asked me. As the designated tutor of the Six Pack and company, I think I should have had a say in any accolades.”
“Oh, shoot, I knew we forgot a name on the reference list when we applied for honors.” He snapped in disappointment. “I don’t know how we forgot to ask you.”
“Shut up,” Erica laughed. “I think it’s great. You guys have really done it. You did what you said you were going to do, and you’re all on great teams. Cole had a rough time last year with the Sea Rays, but they’re supposed to be much better this season.”
Sawyer stared at Erica in surprise, impressed and, he would admit, a little flattered. “You’re following us? Where we’re playing and how we’re doing?”
She shrugged and stuffed her hands into her dark-green pea coat. “Nope. I just happen to keep ESPN on at all times, and the anchors seem a bit obsessed with you guys.” She winked and smiled. “Of course I follow you guys! It’s so fun! But I missed where you went after Orlando, and it’s been a bit since I’ve heard your name. You okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”
“I’m not hurt,” he assured her with an easy smile, amused by the suggestion. “After Orlando, I got traded to the Black Racers, but they were in season and full up, so they had me train with their AAA team until they could call me up. I had a great time with the Rapids, and Missouri was a great stop.”
“Black Racers?” Erica repeated, her brow creasing a little. “Columbus, Ohio?”
Sawyer nodded once. “Very good.”
A quick smile spread across Erica’s face. “I’m in Ohio a lot, actually. Sometimes Columbus, and sometimes Dayton. Like just an hour from you.”
“Are you kidding me?” He shook his head in awe. “What in the world are you doing there?”
“Museum stuff,” she replied with a faint toss of her hair. “I’m an assistant curator at a museum in Albany, but they have me travel a lot for special projects elsewhere. Gets me some decent exposure to other places, and I meet the best people. And special projects give me lots of interaction with the communities…”
Sawyer cocked his head, his smile turning quizzical. “You didn’t go into teaching? I would have thought that was right up your alley.”
She shrugged. “I tried that route for a while, but I couldn’t get much. I teach some community classes when I can, and I head up the education department of the museum, not that it keeps me that busy.” She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Actually, that’s why I’m up here now. There’s a teacher-training seminar here, and I’m hoping they let me become an adjunct professor. I’ve done it for a bit with a small New York school, so…”
“Need a reference?” Sawyer suggested with a grin. “As a former student, it’s the least I can do.”
Erica’s smile turned knowing. “You were more than a former student to me, Sawyer. Always were.”
Something in his chest tugged at that, and warmth slowly spread towards his face. “And I never quite saw you as just my tutor,” he admitted candidly.
Her smile remained, and her eyes softened. “We did have some great times, didn’t we?”
He nodded quickly. “We did. A lot of them.” He cleared his throat and straightened. “You going to be in town for a bit? The gang’ll all be here tomorrow, and the boys would love to see you.”
Erica nodded but then shook her head. “I’m here all weekend, but when I’m not at the seminar, I’m at the farm with the fam.”
“Can’t get away even for pizza with the Six Pack?” He was shocked at how much he wanted her to come with them, how much he wanted to see her again, to really talk…
Her nose wrinkled. “Don’t think so. Meg’s pretty set on taking all of my time. I wish I could, if that makes any difference.”
“If Meg commandeered all of my time, I’d want to hang out with anyone else too.”
“Stop,” Erica groaned, tipping her head back. “You’ll make me feel worse. And she’s still with Jeff, so…”
Sawyer winced dramatically. “Yikes. I’ll send Grizz out to save you. You know your mom always liked him best.”
“Everybody liked Grizz best,” Erica reminded him, still smiling.
“Even you?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Erica paused, then smiled with a distinctly cryptic air. “It was really, really good to see you, Sawyer.”
He opened his arms and she stepped into them. “You too, Erica. So good.” He held her for a long moment, and she let him, amazingly enough.
“I really am in Ohio a lot,” she said quietly. “And my number hasn’t changed. Let’s grab dinner and really catch up, okay?”
Sawyer smiled and pulled back, giving her a thorough look. “Absolutely. I’d love to. And if you’re ever in Columbus during the season, you’ll find a ticket with your name on it. Good seats too. Promise.”
Erica grinned at him, laughing. “Throw in a hot dog and frozen malt, and I’ll come to every game.”
“You’re only coming for the food, aren’t you?”
“Nothing like ballpark food at a great game.”
“Hmm,” Sawyer mused, looking up at the sky briefly. “Whoever told you that great piece of wisdom?”
Erica hummed nonchalantly. “Oh, just this really cute baseball player I used to know. Great on the field, lousy at chemistry.”
Sawyer coughed a laugh as Erica backed away, wearing the mischievous look that used to be a favorite of his. “I got a B, thank you very much, and I ask you to name me one great player who really got chemistry.”
She shrugged, still smiling at him. “I don’t know, Axel seemed to get it just fine.”
“Rude!” he called after her, only getting the sound of her laughter in response.
And then, for no good reason, he was laughing. Quietly but helplessly, and just to himself.
Erica Moore. His mot
her’s favorite girlfriend, and, if he was being honest, his as well.
She’d always been his favorite.
Sawyer Bennett shook his head, wondered what in the world Fate was doing, and turned back to the bookstore to exchange textbooks, if not pick up some more Belltown paraphernalia.
He was growing fonder of this place by the moment.
* * *
“Shoo! Hah! Shoo! Hah! Shoo! Hah!”
The cheerleader standing on top of her male counterpart crossed her arms over her chest and began to fall backwards as the other cheerleaders beside her, mimicking a crosscut-saw team, dropped from their partners’ shoulders to the ground.
The crowd and cheerleaders watched as the top cheerleader fell into the waiting arms of her teammates. “Ohhhhhhhh AND DOWN THEY GO!”
The buzzer sounded, and both teams returned to the court.
“Isn’t it great to be back here? I freaking love this place.”
Sawyer snorted a faint laugh and looked at Grizz. “We’re down by five before the half, you hear the Timberline section cheer, and you get teary-eyed?”
“Heck yeah, I do!” came the heated retort from his friend, his dark goatee stretching with his grin. “No shame.”
“Come on, come on, come on…” Cole hissed, his eyes fixed out on the court. “Campbell can catch us up if they’ll get him the ball.”
“Don’t forget Richards,” Ryker pointed out, arms folded as he leaned against the wall watching. “He’s top of his game right now. His threes are amazing.”
They all watched as Belltown marched down the court against Franklin, the ball passing easily between them before going to a lanky player who shot the most perfect three-pointer known to college basketball.
“Devin Richards!” called Ted Shanks, the traditional Belltown announcer, with all of the drama one could expect. “For the three!”
The crowd roared and cowbells clanged, the Timberline section on their feet, their faces painted in the school colors of red and blue, their flannel towels waving wildly.
Sawyer had to admit, even he was getting caught up in this now. Belltown hadn’t made the conference playoffs in fifteen years, and now not only were they in them, they were ranked number two just behind this particular team. Franklin had been the reigning champs for five years, regularly made the NCAA tournament, and boasted a decent number of drafted players annually.
Hitching the Pitcher Page 2
