14. Monty

Chapter fourteen

Monty

“Let me get this straight,” Rafe huffs out as we run along the gravel path that circles Burnaby Lake, an urban park just outside of Vancouver. “She’s broken up with the idiot, kissed you, made it clear she’s interested in being more than friends, and you put the brakes on? Monty, you’ve got balls of steel.”

“It’s got nothing to do with that,” I say indignantly. “I’ve waited this long, what’s a little longer? I love her, like, really love her. And if I’ve finally got a shot at being with her, the last thing I want to do is rush it. She deserves the fucking world. You know that. And part of that is me giving her time to settle into a life without her ex in it.”

Rafe slows to a stop, his chest heaving with exertion. His hands go to his hips as he shakes his head at me. “You are one in a million, Dan Montgomery. Seriously.”

I duck my head, hoping I’m not blushing. He’s a good friend, someone I respect and just like as a person. I mean, you don’t spend as long as we did as a catcher-pitcher duo without bonding. So for him to say that? Means a lot.

“Thanks, old man. Now, are we running or are we out for a light jog?”

His eyes narrow, and I grin. I’m in for it. Sure enough, he puts on a burst of speed all of a sudden, passing me, and shouting “See ya, sucker” as he sprints away. I shake my head, content to let him think he’s got me for a few seconds.

But I can’t let him get too far ahead. Picking up my pace, I close the distance between us. Rafe hasn’t played for the Tridents in over a year, and while I know he keeps up a certain level of conditioning, he’s got nothing on those of us still actively playing.

Within a couple of minutes, I’m drawing up alongside him, and flash him another wide grin.

“What was that, Pops?”

He grunts, and I can tell he’s pushing himself to his limits to try and keep up. Taking pity on the old guy, I moderate my pace so we’re running more comfortably, side by side.

“Is this what I have to look forward to when I retire? What happened to the guy who could sprint the bases like the devil was chasing him?”

“He traded in multiple workouts a day for beer, sleeping in, and a good woman,” Rafe retorts.

His words hit the mark, whether he intended them to or not. I hold deep respect for Rafe’s choice. A couple of years ago, he found out he had a kid with a woman he’d loved a long time ago. They reunited, reconciled, and he chose to retire to spend time with his family.

Someday, I want to be where he is. Happy, in love, surrounded by family, and living the good life after many years of sacrificing for his career .

But not right now. I’m nowhere near retirement. If anything, my career is my number one focus, for a lot of reasons. And I’m not talking about my deep-rooted desire to see my team take the championship one day, even if that is a big one. I’ve got goals that can only be achieved by putting all of my energy and effort into being the best goddamn player I can be.

Which is a troubling thought alongside the possibility of a relationship with Lark.

I never bothered to think about whether or not I could juggle both. It seemed like it would never happen, so I didn’t let myself consider it.

Except now? It’s a very real possibility. And it’s overwhelming.

“Do you think you could have juggled your relationship with Imogen and Taylor, as well as your career, if you had wanted to keep playing?” I blurt out as we slow our pace, nearing the end of the ten-kilometer loop around the lake.

Rafe’s head turns my way for a second before he looks forward again. “You mean if I wasn’t already getting old and at the end of my career?”

“Yeah. Like, if you knew you had a bunch of good years playing ball left, do you think it’s possible to balance that with a relationship?”

“Lots of guys do.”

My mind darts back to last season, when one of our outfielders found out his wife wanted a divorce while we were on a stretch of away games. “Yeah, and lots of guys have relationships fall apart.”

“If you go into any relationship already thinking it could end, you’re fucked.”

He’s right, and I’m not a glass-half-empty kinda guy. Never have been. But I am trying to be realistic. I know my feelings for Lark are huge and could easily be all-consuming. I can’t imagine my life without her in it, and if I’m being honest, there’s not a chance in hell of me staying away from her if she truly wants to be with me as more than friends.

Which means, no matter what, I’ll find a way to balance it. Baseball and my career goals might be number one, but Lark has always been tied with my family for number two. And if there’s a chance I can have it all?

Game fucking on.

Back at my apartment after my run, I shower, get changed, and chug a protein shake. I missed a call from my mom, so after sitting down on my couch, I pull up their number to call her back.

“Hi, honey.” Mom’s voice makes me smile.

“Hey, Mom, sorry I missed you earlier. Rafe and I were out for a run.”

“I figured you might be. Hang on, let me just finish making my tea.” The phone clatters, and I know she’s put it on the counter. I can hear muffled sounds coming through, and in my mind, I picture Mom bustling around their kitchen that desperately needs updating, getting the milk and sugar out, and fixing her tea in the china cups she prefers.

I’ve tried to convince my parents to let me pay for renovations ever since I signed my first contract with the Tridents, but they’ve always refused, telling me to save my money for a rainy day.

It’s Vancouver. It’s always raining.

I don’t know how to get them to see that taking care of them would be the best way for me to say thank you for everything they’ve done for me. I might be biased, but I swear, Howard and Edith Montgomery are the best parents on the entire planet. And the most annoying for refusing any help from me beyond physical labour when I go to visit.

Even that takes some convincing.

“Alright, I’m here now. How are you doing?” Mom’s voice returns.

“Good. Taking it easy, enjoying some slower days,” I say in return, settling back against the couch cushions. “How’s Dad? Did you get him in for his physical yet?”

Mom laughs. “Oh, Daniel, you know your father. Getting him to take time out for things like that is almost impossible. But yes, I made the appointment, and didn’t tell him until that morning, so it was too late to cancel. He saw the doctor and got a clean bill of health.”

That’s a relief. The biggest downside to having older parents is being all too aware of their declining health and rapidly approaching mortality. It’s a fact of life we all have to face, and growing old is a privilege. But watching my parents age has become more and more difficult over recent years.

“Did the doctor convince him to slow down at the store at all?”

Mom snorts. “Of course not. ”

My head moves slowly back and forth, even though she can’t see it. I pinch the bridge of my nose and decide to shoot my shot. “You know I’d help cover the cost of you hiring more staff. A manager, even. Anything to take some of the workload.”

“And you know that when your father and I reach that point, we’ll talk.” Her tone is firm and leaves no room for discussion.

Even if I highly doubt that point will never come.

“Okay. What else is new?” I ask. There’s nothing to be gained by pushing her, which means changing topics is the best option.

“Well, let me tell you something I heard from Linda…”

I get off the phone with her a half hour later, after promising to come back out for dinner later in the week. When I said I was going to bring Lark with me, I could hear the curiosity in her voice. They’ve met a couple of times, but I’ve never brought her to my childhood home.

When it starts vibrating a couple of minutes later with a call from my agent, I get right back on the phone. He was Rafe’s agent, as well, and a good dude. Total shark, but one that gives a shit about his players.

“Hey, Rocky,” I say, wandering into the kitchen and filling a glass with water. “What’s shakin’?”

“Monty, my man, how’s it going? Keeping up with conditioning?” Rocky says by way of greeting. It’s always business first with him, but I can’t resist having some fun.

“You know it, can’t let my ass get flabby or I won’t bring in the big bucks. Who wants a catcher without a great butt?”

He snorts, which is exactly the response I wanted. “Right, I don’t exactly want to talk about your ass, Monty. But good to know you’re keeping in shape. Let’s talk next season. Last one on this contract, you know what that means?”

Yeah, it means the pressure’s on and dialed up to a hundred.

But I don’t say that to Rocky. “Of course. It means I play the same way I always do. With a smile on my face and my eye on the ball.”

“That’s my boy. Okay, are you still set on wanting to stay in Vancouver? Is that what we’re working toward? Because even though you’ve got a year left, there’s some chatter about Arizona wanting you.”

“No.” My response is swift and firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Rocky. Vancouver or nothing. And it better not fucking be nothing.”

“Heard, loud and clear. Just wanted to make sure that was still your opinion. Because they could be willing to offer you big bucks.”

“I want the big bucks from Vancouver. This is my home, and I don’t want to play anywhere else.”

“Then you really need to pull out all the stops. Be a fucking wall behind the plate. Show them you’re the best goddamn catcher out there and worth every penny you want from them.”

“That’s the plan,” I say, realizing I’m clenching the water glass so tightly my hand is starting to tremble. I set it down, opening and closing my fist a few times. “I’ll do my job on the field; you do your job in the board room.”

“Deal. Now, let’s talk sponsorships.”