Page 60 of Left on Base

Heck, first person I told when Jaxon and I had sex was Emerson. She took me to get birth control months before, no questions asked.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” I say, honest. When Jaxon and I broke up, I was scared of losing his family. We’ve stayed in touch, though—I even spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with them.

We chat for a minute but the game’s about to start and the anthem comes on.

I stand straighter, squeezed between Jaxon’s mom and Emerson, both of them hugging me. It feels like home, even though everything’s different now.

“Sooo,” Emerson whispers, “Are you guys still,” she tips her head, “you know, doing that thing?”

Yeah, she means the situationship. I told Emerson all about it over Christmas when she found us in the closet. I told her I hoped we’d get back together. Still hasn’t happened, but we’re closer than a couple weeks ago, right?

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m confused as usual.”

“Well,” Emerson rolls her eyes, “we both know Jaxon’s good at confusing people and keeping secrets.”

She’s not wrong. I laugh. “Yeah, he is.”

All senior year, Jaxon had everyone thinking he was going to Florida to play baseball because he wore a Gators hoodie. Then right before season started, he announced he’d signed with UW months ago. Whether it was to mess with people or just for his own entertainment—classic Jaxon. Keep everyone guessing.

Emerson leans in, mouth close to my ear since we’re not supposed to talk during the anthem. “Is he still talking to that one girl?”

She knows about her. My heart pounds. “I don’t know if he is, but she’s here,” I whisper, then wait for her reaction. If she says she wants to say hi, I might die. Or vomit. Or both.

“Wait. What? Oh my God.” She clutches my arm. “Where?” She scans the stands. “He wouldn’t show me what she looks like. I asked and he dodged.”

Okay, well, that helps. If Emerson hasn’t seen Inez, I haven’t been replaced yet. The relief is ridiculous but I’ll take it.

“She’s in the student section.” I nod subtly. “Next to Brynn. Black hair. Glasses.”

And awkward as fuck. I don’t say that, but Emerson’s look says she gets it.

She turns back, eyes wide. “No way. There’s no fucking way he’d choose her over you. That’s insane.”

He’s done dumber shit, though.

“Surprised the hell out of me they were talking.” I don’t want to be mean, but Inez isn’t for Jaxon. He’s athletic, competitive, stubborn as hell, and she’s... a journalism major. What do they even talk about? Books? He’s never willingly picked one up in his life, unless it’s a stat magazine.

The anthem ends and Mila, Jaxon’s mom, yanks me onto her lap. “Cammmm,” she squeals, kissing my head, hugging me like a lost teddy bear. “I miss my girl.”

I saw his parents at Christmas, but I get it. I used to basically live at their house in high school.

I wrap my arms around her. “I miss you too, Mama Mila.”

His dad leans in, shoulder bumping mine. “Sixty-one K’s for the season already?” He’s grinning. “Dang, girl.”

Aww. He knows my stats. Like father, like son. Or my dad. Sometimes I wonder if they compare notes, tracking my strikeouts like baseball cards.

I grin at him. “You keeping tabs on me, Mr. C?”

He winks, eyes shining like Jaxon’s. “Of course. You’ll always be my favorite double zeros.”

“Aww.”

Jaxon comes into view but doesn’t look into the stands. He’s focused on his coach and Jameson, that game face on. That intense, older, dangerous look. Same one he gets when he’s studying game film or planning a new pitch sequence.

Usually, pitcher and catcher get the lineup before the game and plan out pitches. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it falls apart. Our team does the same, and it works about eighty percent of the time. The other twenty? That’s when you hope your outside fastball is on fire.

I chat with Jaxon’s parents and notice Callie waving at Emerson, trying to talk from the seats above the dugout. She’s got another snack. Where does she put it all?

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