Page 87 of Home Run

All four of us replied in agreement. There wasn’t a single person on this plane—from players to personnel—who couldn’t also taste the win. Losing wasn’t an option.

Then came the real reason why Boomer was paying us a visit.

“Hey, Simpson, caught your sister onSNLlast night. She was wicked funny. She seeing anyone or what?”

It had been a while since someone had asked me if Holiday was single, mostly because all the guys knew that I’d never discuss it. But every so often, usually coinciding with Holiday’s presence being bumped up from press junkets, or being named as the face of Chanel or Gucci orwhatever, I’d get asked again.

My answer never changed. Lux, Parker, and Ace all looked on in amusement as I shot down one more of Holiday’s admirers.

“She’s not available, Jones.”

“Damn, no surprise though. Your sister isfine.” He turned to walk back to his seat, only to ask another equally annoying question. “Hey, can you give her my number anyway, just in case she suddenly becomes single?”

“Nope.”

“Harsh,” he snapped, but decided against pushing the matter after a voice blared out over the intercom.

“Ten minutes to landing. Please return to your seats.”

“I didn’t know Holiday was dating someone,” said Parker, once Boomer was out of earshot.

“She’s not, but she’s also not going to be dating Boomer Jones,” I replied, knocking my fist to Parker’s as he held his up and let out a chuckle.

Fastening my seat belt as the plane began its descent, I glanced out of the window.

D.C. was laid out in the distance—Washington Monument, the White House, the Potomac snaking through the center. I’d never given D.C. much thought before, but now with Millie’s family here, it was more of a focus. Tomorrow I’d meet her mom for the first time, and I needed to give a good impression because I doubted her two dipshit brothers had done me any favors.

After we landed, we’d make our way straight to the hotel to get acclimated—use the gym, unwind, get our heads in the game before tomorrow. And tomorrow we would report to the Nats stadium at lunchtime, which gave me a couple of free hours in the morning.

The second we’d found out where this series would take place, a plan hatched in my brain.

A couple of hours was all I needed.

NINETEEN

TANNER

“Arlington National Cemetery, please.”

“You got it, pal.” The cab driver replied, zooming out into the D.C. traffic before I’d barely gotten the door shut. “You off to see JFK? Need to get there early.”

I shook my head. “I’m not, no.”

“Jackie O?”

“Nope. Not her either.”

“John Glenn?”

“Family. I’m visiting family,” I said, tugging on the rim of my cap, hoping it might shut him up.

I wasn’t one to avoid a chat with a cab driver, I loved cab drivers, they were some of the most interesting people I’d met. Even the non-Lions fans, and they always had a story. But this morning was not the morning I was looking to engage in conversation.

“Ah. Got it. Sorry, man.”

“It’s all good,” I assured him, checking my pockets for the hundredth time to make sure the box of jelly beans hadn’t fallen out somewhere between my hotel room andhere. I was guarding them like precious jewels. “Thanks, though.”

I’d spotted the box of jelly beans in my hotel minibar last night, and a conversation I’d had months ago with Millie jogged my brain. Her dad had liked the orange ones and she always took them to his gravestone. I’d never had someone close to me die, and I didn’t really have an opinion either way as to what happened when you did. But if there was a heaven, and he was looking down on us, I hoped it would go a little way to him giving me his blessing.

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