Page 18 of Grand Slam

I walkinto the locker room and toss my bag. It skids across the floor, banging into the locker. Suddenly all eyes are on me, but I’ve got tunnel vision. My problems don’t need to be brought to my team.

“Still not getting anywhere with the girl?” Tripp chuckles and I hang my head taking a deep breath.

“Not tonight, man,” I say, hoping he senses my mood. “Just let it go for tonight.”

He gets it, and apparently so does everyone else. They all carry on around me, but not once do they hassle me. When it’s time to take the field I keep my focus forward, my shoulders square, and I do something I never do. I skip my game ritual and I don’t run the outside perimeter of lines. Instead I go to the dugout, tighten my laces and when they call my name I step out, hold my position and keep my back to the place I know my father sits.

Fuck him.

Fuck misjudgment because here I am, I made it big, and it still isn’t enough. It will never be enough. Placing my hand over my heart I rub the ache, picturing the face of the woman that not once ever made me feel like I wasn’t enough.

“Miss you, Mom,” I whisper to myself as I cross the field and take position.

“Damn dude.” Reynolds slaps my back after I make a diving catch to end the inning. “You’re fire, whatever it is that has you pissed, it’s working.” He runs off shaking his head with a laugh. Catching up with our third baseman Chase they share something then look back at me as I walk off the field.

We end the game with a loss, one that I know my father will spend hours telling me step by step what we did wrong. I didn’t have it in me. I was already teetering on losing my shit.

Sitting in the locker room long after everyone is gone, I get the text I’ve been waiting for.

Jerry: Got the girls to your place and your gran and dad to their suite.

“Want to talk about it?” I look up to find Coach Wylde standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips and a serious look on his face. He’s a good guy, a little on the grumpy side, but that’s just him. He’s dedicated to the team and to every guy that plays for him. I know he means well, but talking through the shit with my father won’t change a thing. In the end I’ll be pissed, Coach will know my sad sob story and my father will still be an asshole.

“I’m good, Coach.” I stand, gathering my bag and tossing it over my shoulder. “Just needed a little longer to regroup before heading home.”

“You know where I am if you change your mind.” I offer him a nod and say goodnight before making my way to the players’ parking lot. George is still there waiting like he always is. Guarding the lot like he always is.

We share a fist bump as I walk past and when I’m inside I turn the key and back out of the space.

Not ready to go home I worry Gran may feel like I tossed her aside, so I hit her contact and send the call through.

“You done sulking?” No hello, just her honestly which I love. “The man is an ass, he always has been, Kelton. He’s hard, but he loves each one of you in his own way. A part of him died right alongside your mom. But at the end of the day he’s proud, he has no clue how to show it, but he is.”

I decide not to get into it with her, because this is one thing we will never agree on. “Sorry I didn’t come out to say goodbye.”

“You can make it up to me with breakfast.”

“You got it.” I smile, because this woman is one of my favorite people on this planet. I adore her, I respect her, and I’d do just about anything to ensure she gets whatever she needs. Paid her mortgage off with the first check I got playing ball in Chicago. Pissed her off, and after a week of not talking to me she got over it, cried and made me promise to never stop being the good man my mama raised.

I’ve been doing my best every day since.

“Where are you now?”

“Driving around.” I didn’t need to take this mood home. “I’m on edge. My mood is shit, Gran.”

“Knew that the very second you stepped out onto the field.” Because nothing gets past her, never has.

“You called her your sister’s friend.” Silence settles between us and it takes me a minute to figure out what she is referring to. “I think we both know she’s more. Has been more since the first kiss.”

“Can’t keep chasing my own ass, Gran.”

“Stand firm, say what you need to, after that it’s up to her.” I can see that backfiring. “Pick me up at eight and take me someplace where I’ll get my photo taken with my star grandson. I ain’t never been in a tabloid before,” she says with a laugh before ending the call.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Emerson

I wrapthe towel around me and step out of the shower. Using a second towel to dry my hair pausing to look at my reflection in the mirror.

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