Chapter 14

Fourteen

Everett

G emma: We’re leaving in about ten minutes for the fields if you want to ride with us. :)

Me: Sure, but let me drive us.

Gemma: Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ve got Beau and Blakely with me because Grace had to run to the bakery to put out some fire. They wouldn’t all fit in your car with the equipment I don’t think.

Me: That’s fine, I can drive your car. ;)

It’s been a week exactly since Gemma and I almost kissed on her back patio. Between work and the remodel that has started on my house, I’ve been pretty busy, and haven’t been able to see as much of her as I would’ve liked, or even just sit down and talk about what almost happened.

We’ve exchanged a couple of texts here and there, but I think she’s just as busy as I have been so I’m not worried about it. I can’t imagine how packed her schedule must be, and what it must be like having to juggle multiple different hats as a single mom. I admire her strength and her drive, and it’s one of the things I find so attractive about her.

The other day when I was coming home from work, Sutton was practicing with Beau on the front lawn again while Gemma sat on the porch, typing away on her laptop. He informed me that his first baseball game was this weekend, and asked if I wanted to come.

A sense of excitement, and maybe even a little bit of nerves, simmers low in my gut as I cross over to their yard. Everybody is already outside as Gemma loads up the back of her car with all their equipment. Blakely spots me first, running over to give me a hug.

“Can you sit next to me in the stands?” she asks, peering up at me with a smile on her face and a partially eaten apple in her hand.

“Sure, I’d love to!”

“Morning,” Gemma calls out as she closes the trunk.

I can’t help the grin that spreads on my face as I take her in. A baseball cap on her head, her hair hangs over her shoulders in two loose braids, and she’s wearing a jersey, black biker shorts, and a clean pair of Nike Air Forces on her feet. Her face is free of any makeup this morning, and she looks absolutely breathtaking.

“Morning,” I reply with a wave. “What can I help with?”

“Nothing. Everything’s ready to go. But here.” She smiles as she tosses me the car keys. “Since you insist on driving, I’m going to sit shotgun and play DJ.”

Laughing, I round the car, climbing into the driver’s seat as all three kids slide in the back. “Fine by me. ”

“Auntie,” Blakely calls out as I put the car in reverse and back out of the driveway. “Can you play our song?”

Gemma tosses her a wink over her shoulder. “You know it, sweet girl.”

A moment later, the very distinct beat for “I Love Rock ’N’ Roll” by Britney Spears fills the car, and I can’t help the bubble of laughter that spills out of my mouth. Glancing over at Gemma, I ask, “ This is your guys’ song?”

“Hell yeah.” She giggles. “You should see the dance parties we have in the kitchen to this song.” Nudging my arm with her elbow, she smirks as she adds, “And don’t act like you’re not a Britney fan yourself. I haven’t forgotten about your sunset pier confession, mister.”

I throw my head back and laugh, bringing my attention back to the road. “Touche, lipstick thief. Touche.”

“Shh!” she hisses. “Don’t go spilling my crimes to the innocent children!”

“What are you guys talking about?” Sutton asks, his brows pinched as I glance at him in the rearview mirror.

“My love for Britney Spears,” I murmur, gaze sliding over to meet Gemma’s.

“You love Britney too?” Blakely asks excitedly.

“Sure do.”

“Cool!”

As I turn into the parking lot, I ask Gemma, “So, is Grace putting out literal fires this morning or metaphorical?”

She breathes out a laugh as she takes off her seat belt. “Metaphorical. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but there was an issue with an order that she needed to handle herself. She has staff that works the weekends so she doesn’t have to, but I guess this was unavoidable.”

“Who’s going to be here today, then?”

Turning her head, she meets my gaze, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Oh, everybody,” she says with mirth. “You’re meeting the whole Astor clan today. Good luck!”

I chuckle, climbing out of the car. “Am I going to need luck?”

Laughing, she shakes her head. “No, I’m just kidding. My family is actually pretty fun to be around.”

Gemma and I grab the equipment out of the back as Beau and Sutton rush toward the field. Blakely stays by Gemma’s side, carrying a little backpack over her shoulder that she informed me has snacks in it. Smart girl. Can’t watch a baseball game without snacks.

As soon as we reach the field, Sutton runs over to us. “Everett! I want you to meet my coach.”

“Okay, buddy. Let’s go meet him.”

“I’m going to sit on the bleachers with Blakely,” Gemma calls out. “Just come find us when you’re done.”

Sutton walks us over to a man who is clearly the coach. He’s surrounded by the kids, and he smiles when he glances up and sees Sutton.

“This is Coach Rinker,” Sutton introduces, before adding matter-of-factly, “he’s also my uncle.”

Shaking my hand, Coach Rinker says, “Ethan. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Everett. It’s nice to meet you too.”

Ethan’s eyes slide over my shoulder toward the bleachers. “Are you here with Gemma, then?” he asks in a friendly but curious tone .

“Yup.” I nod. “I’m the neighbor. And Sutton’s teacher, actually.” Chuckling, I say, “Sutton invited me, and I couldn’t pass up a good old-fashioned baseball game.”

Chuckling, Ethan says, “Right on. Glad you could make it. I’m Beau and Blakely’s dad.”

“Oh, cool. That’s fun that you get to coach them. You’ve got a couple of incredible kids. So, does that make you Grace’s… husband?”

“Ex-husband,” he corrects with a smile.

One of the parents walks up, needing Ethan’s attention after that, so I waltz over to the bleachers, finding Gemma and Blakely sitting in the middle, surrounded by a group of people I’m assuming are her family. My stomach twists as I approach them, their eyes lifting to meet mine, and I realize right at this moment how much I want them to like me.

“Guys, this is Everett,” Gemma announces, gesturing a hand toward me. “He’s our new neighbor and Sutton and Beau’s teacher.” Pointing to everybody one by one, she introduces them all, but it’s a fat chance I’ll remember anybody’s name. You’d think after my years of experience being a teacher, I’d get better at remembering names, but I swear, the older I get, the worse it becomes.

She wasn’t joking when she said the whole family was here. Both of her parents and their spouses, her brother, his wife, and her other sister, Georgia, are all here. Everybody seems friendly enough as I move to take a seat.

“Here.” Blakely pats the spot beside her. “Saved you a seat!”

“Well, thank you.” Gemma is on the other side of her, and she smiles down at her niece as she scoots a little closer to her, making sure I have room. “Pretty cool that the coach is your dad, huh?”

“Yeah, he really likes baseball,” she says, unzipping her backpack and pulling out a baggie of pretzel sticks. “Football too. But I don’t like football.”

“Do you like baseball?”

She shrugs. “It’s all right.”

“Ethan used to play college baseball over at Clemson,” Gemma adds, meeting my gaze over Blakely’s head. “He was really good, and he almost went pro.”

“What happened?”

“He tore his rotator cuff his senior year. It was gnarly and ended his whole career before it could even get started.”

“Ouch, that’s awful.”

“Yeah, but it ended up working out because Grace was about to give birth to Blakely anyway.”

The game starts, and for the first one, it’s pretty good. All the kids give it their best go; Beau even manages to hit a home run and Sutton hits a few good ones too. Their excitement and the energy in the stands are contagious, and it brings me back to when I was a kid, learning to play the game. I’ve always been somebody who doesn’t like being bad at anything. A bit of a perfectionist, if you will, so I would get frustrated often as I was learning to hit or catch the ball.

Baseball wasn’t my dad’s thing, it interrupted his late nights and Saturday mornings at the office. Thankfully, our next-door neighbor at the time, Brody, was a big-time baseball fan. I vividly remember him practicing with me for hours on end, helping me perfect my craft. I wouldn’t know half as much as I do now about the sport if it wasn’t for him. He’d even come to my games if he was free, and if he couldn’t come, he’d listen to me talk about it the next morning.

I guess in a way, Sutton reminds me of myself when I was younger. Except I’m sure his father would be here today if he could. Can’t say the same about my dad.

After the game is over—they win—the boys rush to us, adrenaline pumping from the win. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and I swear my heart seizes in my chest when Sutton runs over to me and gives me a huge, tight hug and says, “Thank you, Everett! For helping me practice. Thank you!”

“You did it, buddy,” I murmur, brushing a hand across his back. “So proud of you!”

Looking up, my gaze locks with Gemma’s, and a rush of tingles rolls down my spine as I take in the wide smile on her face.

“All right, let’s go back to my place,” somebody announces, and when I turn my head in the direction of where it came from, I notice it’s Gemma’s sister, Georgia. “I got stuff to grill hamburgers and hot dogs.” Then she flits her gaze over at me. “You too, neighbor boy.”

I breathe out a laugh at the nickname, looking toward Gemma to make sure it’s okay.

“Yeah!” Sutton shouts. “Oh, you gotta come, Everett! It’ll be fun!”

Gemma’s lips curl into a grin that makes my stomach flip-flop. “Yeah, you gotta come,” she parrots, tilting her head up at me.

Looking back at Georgia, I say, “Well, all right, I’m there.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” I ask Georgia as I step into her kitchen where she’s slicing up some fresh fruit for the kids to snack on.

Glancing up from her task, she meets my gaze and smiles. Out of all the siblings, I think Georgia and Gemma look the most alike. They both have the same dark brown eyes and a light smattering of freckles across the apples of their cheeks and their nose. Georgia’s hair is a little darker than Gemma’s, and she’s taller, but they definitely look alike. I believe they’re the closest in age too, if I’m remembering correctly.

“I think I got it,” she offers. “But thank you. Having fun today?”

Stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I nod. “Yeah, I am,” I reply honestly. “I was excited when Sutton asked me to come to his game. I haven’t been to one in far too long.”

“You know, it’s nice of you to help him out and show up for him. I’m sure he really appreciates that.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. He’s a great kid, and he’s fun to be around.”

She nods, bringing her gaze back to the cantaloupe on the cutting board. “Yeah, he is, and he’s been through more in his short life than he deserves.”

My mind automatically drifts back to the conversation Gemma and I had about her husband. Just like before, a sense of sadness clutches at my chest. For both of them, and everything that they lost.

“I heard about Sutton’s dad,” I say softly.

“Gemma told you?” she asks, brows raised as she flicks her gaze over to me.

“She did.” I nod. “Last week. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for both of them.”

“It was rough, but if anybody can pick themselves up off the ground and power through, it’s my sister.” There’s an air of pride in her tone. It’s obvious how close all of them are, and it’s something I admire. Gemma has such a strong group of family and friends by her side. “What about you?” she asks, not looking up from the fruit. “Ever been married, Everett?”

“Hey now,” Gemma drawls as she strolls into the kitchen. Her hand brushes along my upper back as she passes by me, a knowing smirk on her face. “Don’t be grilling my guest,” she teases, nudging her sister’s arm.

“As the oldest sister, it’s my duty—and my right—to grill the men you bring home, thank you very much.” Georgia flashes me a toothy grin as she plops a chunk of honeydew into her mouth.

Chuckling, I hold my hands up innocently. “I don’t mind.”

With a roll of her eyes, Gemma opens the fridge. “Want a beer?” she asks me, and I nod.

When she hands me the ice-cold bottle of Budweiser, our fingers brush, and once more, the feeling takes me aback. Our eyes lift, meeting, and we both pause for a moment, as if letting the electricity flow.

“Thank you,” I say with my heart in my throat.

“No problem, Mr. Windward.”

Gemma grins proudly as laughter rumbles from my chest. Something about the way she says my name like that does something to me. It reminds me that I really shouldn’t be feeling this way about her, given that she’s one of my student’s parents, but at the same time, the forbidden nature of it gets me all hot and bothered.

And based on the look in her eyes and the way her cheeks pink up every time she does it, I’d say it has the same effect on her.