3. Monty

Chapter three

Monty

The drive out to Meadowvale, the small town I grew up in, takes just over an hour. Tucked away in a small pocket of the valley outside of Vancouver, it’s a beautiful place to live, even if, as a kid, I resented how far away from everything it seemed.

Now, I love coming here. The quiet streets and slow pace of this sleepy little town instantly make me feel peaceful. I pull up outside of the store my parents have owned for decades. The closest thing to a grocery store in these parts, they sell a little bit of everything. As soon as I was old enough, I was helping out, sweeping floors, stocking shelves, packing bags. The bell over the door that jingles when I walk in brings a wave of nostalgia, but it’s the grey-haired woman walking over with her arms wide open that has me grinning.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, gently folding her much-smaller frame into mine for a hug.

“Twenty seconds, young man.” She says the same thing every time we hug. Gotta hold on for twenty seconds to get the maximum mood boost. As a teenager, I cringed, and insisted on only hugging her in private. But now, as a grown-ass man, I love hugging. Not just my mom, even though hers are the best, but everyone.

Hey, I’m an affectionate dude, and hugs are awesome.

When we eventually let go, she holds onto my arms with a grip that hasn’t weakened one bit since I was a kid.

“Now. Your dad is in the back unloading the produce order. Have you had lunch?”

“Mom, it’s 10 am. I don’t need lunch.” I glance to the back of the store. “Should I go help Dad? Those apple boxes get heavy.”

“Honey, your father might be seventy-two, but he’s not dead yet. He can handle some apple boxes. If you don’t want lunch, how about a snack? We got some new treats from Delores for the bakery case. She made these croissant-donut things. Cronuts, she called them.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I’ve heard of a cronut. I’m surprised Delores branched out from scones and coffee cake.”

“Listen, young man, we’re hip, we can keep up with things.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her cronuts were a thing a couple of years ago. I love my parents, but they struggled to conceive and didn’t have me until my dad was in his forties and Mom was close to it. Having parents that much older means there’s always been a much bigger generational divide between us.

But it didn’t stop my dad from teaching me to hit a ball at three or my mom from lecturing me about safe sex at sixteen.

She could’ve saved herself the trouble of that awkward conversation… I was a scrawny kid, a total goofball, and a science geek, and even being the captain of my high school baseball team wasn’t enough to save my reputation at school. I was always solidly placed in the friend zone with every girl .

Dad chooses that minute to push through the swinging doors at the back of their shop, struggling under not one but two large boxes of apples.

“Jesus, Dad, what are you doing, trying to throw your back out?” I jog down the aisle and grab the boxes from him.

“Hello to you, too, son, and I could’ve managed them.” He pats my shoulder and follows me over to the produce section where I set the boxes down and start unpacking apples.

It bugs me that my parents still work in the store seven days a week. Sure, they’ve hired help, teenagers like I was back in the day that stock shelves and clean up. But they’re still here doing the brunt of it, running the store full time. Getting them to take vacations is almost impossible. And as much as we all might want to ignore it, they’re getting older.

My dream is to be able to support them so they can sell the store and retire. But being so far out from the city, they won’t make a lot from the sale, certainly not enough for Mom’s dream of buying a luxury RV and traveling the continent.

I could buy the RV for them, even now, but they won’t accept it. Dad made it clear when I signed with the Tridents four years ago that my priority had to be on making smart decisions with my money to set myself up for my own future. He knew, just as I did, that being a catcher in the major leagues meant my career wouldn’t be a long one. The wear and tear on my body is just too much. And since I was recruited before I could finish college, I don’t have a lot to fall back on outside of baseball. Unless I want to run this store…which I don’t.

Thankfully, my parents don’t pressure me on that one bit. They just want to see me happy. The problem is, I want the same for them. And that means I need to secure a second contract with the Tridents after this season, so I can use the signing bonus I’ll hopefully get to set my parents up.

It’s easy to fall back into the rhythm of working in the store. Customers come and go, some of them greeting me, but no one making a fuss. That’s the benefit of a small town. These people have known me since I was in diapers; they couldn’t care less that I’m now a somewhat famous athlete.

I mean, I’m no Maverick King, who used to grace the tabloids on a regular basis, but I do okay.

“Is that Daniel? How lovely to see you.”

I turn at the shaky old voice, a smile already on my face. “Mrs. Chen, look at you, beautiful as always. Can I help you find something?”

My former elementary school teacher frowns up at me. “When are you going to bring a girl around here, Daniel? Or a boy, I suppose, it doesn’t matter. But your mother’s not getting any younger and she deserves grandchildren.”

“Mrs. Chen,” I gently chide. “You say the same thing every time I come to visit. I’ll bring a girl back home when I find the right one.”

The old lady harrumphs, but her face softens into a wrinkled smile. She reaches up to pat my cheek. “You’re a good boy, Daniel. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Chen. Now, have you tried a cronut? Mom says Delores dropped off a batch and they’re delicious.”

I escort her over to the bakery section and help her put one in a bag before waving goodbye.

A good boy . Yeah. I am, and I don’t mind people knowing it. I’m a happy dude with not much to complain about in life. But one thing Mrs. Chen said is sticking in my stomach, churning up the breakfast I had before I left to drive out here.

Any woman would be lucky to have you .

Except the only woman I want, the only one I’ve ever wanted, is marrying some other man.

And that fucking sucks.

It’s not hard for my mom to convince me to come upstairs to the apartment above the store where I grew up and stay for dinner after I help them all day. With the season over, I’ve got all the time in the world. And there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here with my parents.

After packing away more of my mom’s lasagna than I should admit to, because no one makes lasagna like Edith Montgomery, I shoo them both out of the kitchen and take care of the dishes. At some point, my phone vibrates, but I ignore it until later, when Mom and Dad have gone off to watch some nature documentary, and I’m nursing a beer out on their back deck, huddled around the firepit I bought them last year.

I see a missed text from Rafe and dial his number.

“Hey, Pops.” I smile when I hear his gruff hello . “You missin’ me or something?”

His low chuckle echoes my own. “Monty, my man, if there’s anything I miss about playing ball, it’s the paycheque, not you.”

I clutch my chest even though I know he can’t see me. “Ouch, and here I thought we were friends.”

I hear his loud exhale. “Fine, we’re friends. I miss you and your creepy long hugs.”

“That’s more like it,” I say, smirking. “What’s up? How’s Imogen and Taylor?”

“They’re great. This whole retirement thing is fucking awesome.”

I can hear the truth behind his words. We worked together for three years, and in that time, he became the older brother I always wanted. He knows me and I know him, and I’ve never heard the man sound so peaceful and happy as he does now with his fiancée and kid by his side. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. So, season’s over. What’s the plan? Heading back east?”

I consider his question. Other than my parents, the rest of our family is in Ontario, including some cousins I’m sort of close to. “Nah, sticking closer to home this year, I think. Spend some time with the folks, help them out. That kind of thing.”

“And that decision wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain trainer getting hitched, now, would it?”

“How did you hear?” I say nervously. All the guys on the team know I’ve got a thing for Lark, but Rafe’s the only one who knows just how much of a thing it really is. He was there that day when I was going to ask her out. He’s the one who explained she was with Baron and had been for a while.

“I might have retired from the team but that doesn’t mean I don’t hear things.” He pauses for a second. “How’re you doing, Monty?”

I’m silent for a second. Maybe two. “I mean, I don’t know. Nothing’s changed, not really. If she’s happy, that’s all that matters.”

“Does that mean you’re finally gonna move on?”

“I date. ”

Rafe scoffs. “You’ve gone on a handful of first dates that somehow never turn into a second. You’ve never brought a girl to a team event or a game. You’ve never even talked about a girl. And hey, it’s your life, you live it however you want. But at some point, you gotta get over her.”

“Yeah. I know.” I lean forward in my chair and let my head hang low. “But what if she was it for me, Pops? What if Lark is the only woman out there for me, and I never get a chance?”

“Monty, there’s no good answer for that. I’m sorry, man.”

It’s my turn to exhale. “Thanks.”

“What are you gonna do if she asks you to be in the wedding?”

I snort. “What, like as a best man? She won’t, she’s got Willow and Sadie, and Baron’s got a sister, I think.”

“Yeah, but you guys are close. She might want you involved.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat. “Then I’ll be her friend and whatever else she needs me to be. Just like always.”