44. Lark

Chapter forty-four

Lark

Lark

“Yes!” The dugout erupts in cheers as Kai throws another perfect strike into Dan’s glove. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, watching the two of them dominate the field. As our opponent switches batters, I turn back to the player who is currently on the bench, icing his shoulder.

“How’s it feeling, Ben?”

He grimaces, then slowly rotates it. “Better. Now it’s just my pride that’s injured.”

“You’re allowed to fumble a catch now and then.” I give him a sympathetic smile, hoping he doesn’t get too down on himself. He’s got a long career ahead, and there will be plenty of catches to make — and miss.

“Thanks, Lark.” He stands up, handing me the ice pack. “I’m gonna get warmed up.” He pauses and then frowns. “If I’m cleared?”

I nod and his frown turns into an expression of relief.

“Great.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Mattias says, coming up beside me. “But I’m betting it’s just a bruise.”

“Agreed. He had full range, just point tenderness. I think he’ll be fine.”

Together we watch the game play, wincing when the batter hits a beauty of a line drive off Kai’s pitch. But our fielders are on it, with Rhett snatching up the ball and tossing it to Ronan at first for an easy out.

“It’s not going to be the same around here without you,” Mattias says casually, turning to lean his back against the railing. “But I’m glad the research team was willing to let you start late.”

“Me too.” And I am, happy that is, that I can start my internship in January. But I’ll miss working with the team for those six months. By the time I’m finished, the season will be in full swing.

The top of the sixth inning ends with the other team scoring two runs, and our guys jog off the field with fierce determination to take back the lead with their at bats. Dan comes straight over to me, dropping a kiss to my forehead as his glove taps my protruding belly.

“Hey, babe. How’s Wilson?”

“He’ll be fine.” I lift my head for a proper kiss. “You and Kai are doing great. How’s your knee feeling?”

He gives me a grin. “Just fine, thanks to you.”

For the last two weeks, his left knee had been aching slightly, but with a few targeted strength exercises and some acupuncture done by one of our other trainers, he’s been feeling much better.

“All I did was nag you about doing the exercises,” I tease, not bothering to hide my stare as he strips off his catching gear in preparation for being up to bat this inning. As he bends over to remove his leg pads, he peers back and catches my eyes trained on his butt. He gives it a wiggle, and I instantly blush.

“Go ahead and look all you want, Birdie.” His voice catches the attention of a couple of the other guys.

It’s Maverick who walks past and slaps Dan’s butt, making me giggle.

“Stop shaking that ass and get your bat, Monty.”

“Told you, we’re calling him Daddy from now on,” Kai chimes in, making my eyebrows raise.

Dan straightens and looks at me with a blush on his cheeks.

“Daddy?” I ask, folding my arms over my stomach.

His shoulders lift in a shrug. “I mean, I couldn’t be Pops, that one’s taken.”

My smile softens at the mention of our retired pitcher, Rafe. He and Dan were always close.

Taking a step closer, I lift onto my toes so only he can hear me. “You make one hot DILF.”

His groan is quiet, but it’s what he whispers in my ear that has me clenching my thighs together.

“Do you have any idea how painful it is to have a hard-on inside a jock?”

I turn my head to whisper back, “Poor baby. I’ll take care of you later, okay?”

He leans back with a grin. “Promise?”

I nod, licking my lips. “Promise.”

Just then, the crowd erupts in cheers, and I realize we’ve missed the start of the inning. Mav must’ve had a great hit, seeing as he’s racing for second by the time we reach the railing. He slides in with one arm outstretched, and the trainer side of me winces, hoping his recently healed clavicle didn’t take the brunt of it. He seems to be fine as he stands up, but I’ll check in with him when he makes it to home.

“Okay, I’m on deck. Love you.” Dan kisses me again before putting on his helmet and jogging up the steps to the field. I watch him take his practice swings, only glancing away when our batter hits a ground ball and takes off, sprinting for first. He makes it just in time, and Maverick manages to make it home, having stolen third on a previous pitch.

I wait for him to come off the field before going over, watching closely for any signs of discomfort. Mav is one of the worst when it comes to admitting he’s in pain.

“That was quite the slide,” I say when he’s finally close by. He glances at me, peeling off his helmet and replacing it with his cap.

“Yeah, shoulder’s fine, though.”

“Okay, good to hear. Mind if I still put you through a few moves once Dan’s finished batting?”

All I get is a grunt of acknowledgment, but it’s enough. I turn my attention to home plate, where Dan is in his batting stance, watching the pitcher. I hold my breath as he winds up. The ball goes flying and he doesn’t move. The ump calls it a strike, and I curse quietly.

The next pitch comes and this time he swings, making contact. Unfortunately, it’s a pop fly, easily caught by the second baseman, and Dan turns to jog into the dugout.

“Sorry, babe,” I say when he reaches me .

His grimace tells me he’s frustrated. “It happens.”

Shifting back to Maverick, I raise my eyebrows and that’s all it takes. He knows the drill, and we work through a couple quick checks of his shoulder. It doesn’t take long before I’m satisfied he didn’t do any damage with his slide.

“Oof,” I say, grimacing myself when the baby decides to give a strong kick to my ribs. “Settle down, baby bird.” I rub my stomach as Dan comes over, having heard my grunt.

“Everything okay?” he asks, running his hands over mine.

“Yeah, just your daughter waking up.”

His face softens into a grin as he drops into a crouch to press his lips to my belly. “Hi, baby bird. Love you, kiddo.”

Finding out we were having a little girl made Dan even more excited. That week, he showed me the Pinterest board he started for a nursery, filled with all kinds of baseball-themed items in nothing but purple and teal colours.

He stands up as there’s another cheer, and we look to see our batter making it to second, bringing the previous one home.

“We’re tied,” I exhale. It’s been a close game, which is always nerve-racking for everyone.

“Their pitcher is on fire,” Dan admits, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as we watch the game. “His curveball is deadly.”

Sure enough, that curveball strikes out our next player, ending the first half of the seventh inning. Which means…

En masse, every Tridents player and staff in the dugout comes over and crowds around me.

The voice on the loudspeakers announces the seventh inning stretch, and then music starts to play. Everyone who can reach my stomach places a hand or even a finger on it. And right on cue, our little girl starts to go crazy, flipping around, punching and kicking.

It doesn’t feel great, but it is special the way everyone gets excited, wanting their chance to feel the baby enjoying the cherished tradition of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” It just proves the idea that family isn’t always about blood. It’s about the people who love you, respect you, and support you.

It can look like many things, and for Dan and me, it’s an entire baseball team and staff celebrating our daughter.

The players all raise their voices near the end of the song, something that started a few weeks ago when the team had the strongest second half of an inning ever after singing along to the final few words.

“For it’s one, two, three strikes, you’re out, at the old ball game!”