Page 88 of Tagging Bases

He smiles, and there’s something in his expression that constricts my lungs. Pride? Understanding? Whatever it is, it hits me right where it counts.

I should be here helping out like Roy is, but instead, I’m off swinging bats and chucking curveballs as if it’s the most important thing in the world. And maybe it is for me. But knowing what I’ve left behind takes some of the shine off that major-league dream.

Dad stands up and stretches his back with a groan. “Well, if you want this old man to keep up with you today, why don’t you run inside and fetch us some coffee?”

I nod and head out of the barn before he can see how relieved I am to escape this whole emotional minefield.

By the timeDad and I finish the morning chores, the sun is high in the sky and sweltering. My shirt sticks to me like cling wrap, but we head out to the fields anyway. Dusty and dry, the path crunches under our boots as we trudge toward the tractor, the air shimmering with heat waves.

Dad squats down and starts fiddling with the ancient machine. “Maybe it’ll start behaving if you give it a pep talk.”

I laugh and lean against a wheel. “What about a swift kick?”

The thing is rusted everywhere that counts, with paint peeling off in staggered spots. I pop the hood and breathe in the oily scent of machinery and old metal. Dad stands up and joins me, poking around the engine and giving a low whistle like he can’t believe it’s still in one piece. “It’s the fuel line. I’ll call Hank.”

I grab a wrench and dig in, twisting and turning bolts while the sun beats mercilessly on my back. It’s almost meditative, the clink of tools and the steady hum of insects all around. My hands get slick with grease, and I wipe my forehead with my arm, only to smear it with oil.

“He didn’t pick up,” Dad says, frowning.

“Can he even hear his phone anymore?” Hank’s older than my dad, and his hearing started going by the wayside when I was in middle school. Lord only knows how badly he’s faring now.

Dad laughs. “We’ll know if he doesn’t call me back by next week.”

I snort and keep tinkering, trying to coax some life into the old beast. A couple of minutes later, my finger snags on a sharp piece of metal.

“Shit,” I mutter, yanking my hand back and inspecting the damage. Blood wells up from the cut, bright red against my grimy skin. Another battle scar to add to the collection, I guess.

Injuries are the one thing I don’t miss about being on the farm. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve sliced my finger, stubbed my toe, or gotten a black eye. It’s a rite of passage around here—you’re not a real farmer until you’ve bled for the cause.

Dad and Roy have fared no better over the years. I still haven’t forgotten about the time Roy got kicked in the nuts so hard by Daisy that he ended up with swollen testicles the size of grapefruits. I shouldn’t have laughed, but damn, it was a sight to behold.

Luckily, I haven’t experienced anything that bad. But give ittime. The farm has a way of humbling even the most experienced among us.

After another fifteen minutes of endlessly tinkering, we lean against the tractor and take five.

“You boys seem happy,” Dad says casually as he wipes sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah, we are.”

“I know I don’t know much about these…arrangements you kids have nowadays. But if it works for you three, who am I to say any different?”

I blink at him, not sure if I’m hearing him right. “You’re okay with it?”

“You’re my son,” he says simply. “That’s the only thing that matters.”

I’m so relieved I can hardly speak. “Thanks, Dad.”

He nods, adding, “Just be careful. Not everyone will be as accepting as your mother and me.”

“Yeah. We kinda figured that.”

He’s silent for a beat, then claps me on the shoulder with a grin. “Now, let’s talk about safety.”

I stare at him, my brain going on the fritz.Safety?What the hell is he talking about? We’re in the middle of a goddamn field, not a construction site.

Noticing my confusion, he smirks. “Son, I’m talking about sex.”

My eyes pop out of their sockets, and heat creeps up my neck. “What?!”

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