29. Monty

Chapter twenty-nine

Monty

“Didn’t your mama teach you that your face is gonna get stuck like that if you keep smilin’ so hard?”

I turn to see Darling jogging up to me in the parking lot and shrug. “Life’s good, man, gotta smile.”

He drapes his arm over my shoulder and we head into the indoor sports facility where Grayson’s baseball league runs some winter clinics. During our last afternoon together, the kid turned on the most epic set of puppy dog eyes and practically begged me to see if I could get a couple of the guys together to attend one of the workshop days.

Listen, I’m a sucker for puppy dog eyes. Been known to use them a time or two myself. They’re a powerful weapon.

Luckily, Darling and Yami were both free this afternoon and happy to help out.

When we get inside, Yami’s already there, chatting with a couple of the coaches who are staring at him with stars in their eyes. It’s still weird to me, the fact that people see us as celebrities.

We’re just dudes who like to play ball and happen to get paid a boatload of money to do so.

With Darling’s and my arrival, the excitement ratchets up even higher. I spot Grayson standing with some other boys, and the second he sees me, a goofy grin crosses his face. I give him a head nod, letting him decide how to play it. Sometimes he’s fine with kids knowing I’m his Big Brother, sometimes he isn’t.

“Hey, Monty! You’re here. Cool. Think Yami will help me with my slider? Oh, and Marcus wants to be our catcher next season, so maybe you could help him out?”

“Dude, slow down. We’ll do whatever your coaches want us to, okay?” I hold back my chuckle at his eager greeting. His face falls, but only slightly, before brightening again.

“Sure. Cool. Hey, did you see we got new team bats?”

Yeah, I saw, because I donated them… But I don’t tell him that. Instead, I let him lead me over and pretend to be super impressed by the bats.

Eventually, the coaches call everyone over, introduce us — which really isn’t necessary with this crowd — and we split into groups. Yami and I are paired up, of course, and that’s when the fun begins.

“You better call some good pitches today or I’m throwing nothing but knuckleballs,” Yami calls out as he walks to the middle of the space we’ve taken over. The kids all titter with laughter as I tilt my mask up and glare at my pitcher.

“Listen, buddy, it’s not my fault you can’t see far enough to catch my signals. Better get your eyes checked before spring training.”

Yami grins. I drop my mask and crouch down, smacking my glove with a fist .

“Okay, boys. Let’s start things off nice and easy.” He holds up the ball, demonstrating his finger placement. “When you want to throw a slider, it’s important you remember three things: two seam grip, pressure from the middle finger, and karate chop.”

He lets the ball fly and it lands straight in my glove.

“But sometimes, you plan a slider, and it turns into a curve. Which, if your catcher isn’t ready, can be a disaster.” He leans back and throws, and fucking hell, I’m not ready. But I still make the catch.

“Thought we agreed you’d leave the bad pitches at home,” I call out as I throw the ball back to him.

“I did, but they missed me. Guess they followed me here.”

Our banter has the kids laughing, but also paying close attention. I see Grayson’s gaze locked on Yami, his intense focus mixing with open admiration.

After showing them a few more pitches, Yami and I split up and each take half of our group to work on specific skills. I love working with kids, they’re so eager to learn, and goofy with their enthusiasm. Pretty soon, I’ve got them practicing their pop-ups from a squat position to throw position, seeing who can go the fastest. Then we pull out some irregular-shaped balls that bounce all over the place so they can practice catching unpredictable throws.

The two-hour clinic is over way too soon. Even after lingering for another half hour signing hats, shirts, and taking photographs, it’s clear none of us want to leave. It’s been too much fun.

But Lark’s waiting for me at home and fuck, do I ever want to get back to her .

I walk Grayson out to his mom’s car, and he surprises me by wrapping his arms around me for a hug, even with some of his teammates still walking by.

“Thanks, Monty,” he mumbles into my shirt. I can see his mom smiling at us from inside her car as I hug him back.

“Hey, anytime, buddy. You know that. If I’m available, I love helping out.”

He looks up at me, nervous hope written all over his face. “Do you think I might make it to the major leagues someday?”

Oh, my little dude. His question wrenches at my heart. Surprisingly, it’s the first time he’s ever asked. And I don’t know what to say. So I fall back on what my Little League coach said to me when I was a little bit older than Grayson.

“I think if you keep focused and try your hardest to always improve your game, physically and mentally, you can do anything. But I also think it’s important to have something else in your life that you love, not just baseball. Because sometimes, no matter how hard you work, it just isn’t meant to be. And that’s okay, too.”

“You had your space stuff, right? You were gonna go work for NASA?”

I chuckle, remembering how naive I was as a teenager, thinking it would be that simple. To simply want to work for NASA. “Yeah, I had my space stuff.”

He nods slowly. “Cool. I like biology, learning about the inside of our bodies and stuff. It’s gross, but cool.”

“Totally gross but totally cool,” I agree. “And a great thing to continue learning about. It’ll help your game, too, if you understand muscles and bones and how our bodies work. ”

“’Kay. I gotta go. See you next week?”

I lift my hand up and he slaps it with his. “You bet. Bye, Gray.”

A few minutes later, I’m driving home, drumming my hands on the steering wheel in time to the music pumping through my speakers. But just as it gets to the good part, the song is interrupted with an incoming call from Rocky.

“Monty, my man. How’s it goin’?” His voice booms out, and I wince, turning down the volume.

“Can’t complain,” I say cheerfully. “What’s up?”

“Listen. You should know there’s some chatter in a few gossip rags about you and the trainer. Nothing bad, just speculation about the two of you, how it’ll affect your game. You know not to read anything into it, but I gotta do my job and check in. This thing with her. It’s serious?”

I clench the steering wheel and my jaw, my previous good mood evaporating just like that. Fuck. I don’t know how I didn’t anticipate this. Of course, somehow, the media would find out about me and Lark and put a shitty spin on it. Just because I’ve never had any negative issues with the press before doesn’t mean I’m immune to it.

“What are they saying, Rocky?” I grind out.

“Nothing that matters,” he says, and I know he’s trying to calm me down. “Seriously. I’d tell you if I thought it was something we had to address, but it isn’t and we don’t. But in all the years we’ve been working together, you’ve never once been seen with a woman.” There’s a pause. “Honestly? Not that it matters, but I was kind of thinking you weren’t into women. Which is sorta something I should know as your agent, but also, at the same time, is none of my — or the world’s — goddamn business. But I digress. You and this woman.”

“Lark. Her name is Lark,” I interject, still holding the steering wheel in a death grip. “And yes, it’s serious.”

Rocky’s silent for a second. “Okay, noted. All I’m gonna say is, remember your goals. Unless you’re really fucking good at keeping secrets, this is the first relationship you’ve juggled along with playing in the big leagues. The pressure of managing both can be a lot. And the last thing I want is for you to lose focus this upcoming season when you’ve got so much on the line.”

He means well. I know he does. But that does nothing to quell the anger building inside of me at the very thought that being with Lark could be anything but amazing.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. If you say so. That’s all I wanted to check in on. I’m off to Santa Barbara for a few days to scout out some new kid. Talk later.”

We hang up, and I stew in my thoughts the rest of the drive home.

Of course, everything will be fine. If I managed to stay focused on my career this long, finally getting the woman of my dreams isn’t going to knock me off course.

I was able to rise to the top, all while pining after someone I thought I would never have. Surely, now that she’s mine, if anything, it’ll be easier to concentrate.

Right?