Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

QUINCY – AGE 33 {RIPLEY – AGE 28}

" C an you believe it, Q?"

I look at her smiling, emotional face on our FaceTime call. "I have no words right now, Z."

"We're going to be living in the same city for the first time in fifteen years."

"They're really starting a pro softball team in Philly?"

"Yep, and they want me as their marquee player. Q, they're paying me more than double my current salary and are covering all my moving expenses."

"That's not surprising. You're the best player in the league. You're worth ten times what you're being paid right now. It's such bullshit that you ladies make so much less than us. You're every bit as talented, if not more."

"Thanks." She pauses. "Do you watch many of my games?"

"Fuck yes. I try not to miss any. I subscribe to the streaming service. That shit should be on national television."

"I didn't know that you watched. Thank you."

"Of course." I don't tell her I also watch Ripley play. She's easily become the best pitcher in the league. She throws heat. "My little sister is going to make the Olympic team in four years. Do you know how excited I am about that?"

"Don't fucking jinx it. Rip and I have been dreaming of this forever." Her eyes light up. "I haven't even told you the best part yet."

"I can't imagine it getting better than you living nearby."

Her eyes sparkle. "They're signing Ripley, Kamryn, and Bailey too. Our whole fucking UCLA gang is going to play together again."

I'm speechless. Ripley St. James is moving to Philly? Holy. Fucking. Shit.

"Q? Are you okay?"

Oh shit. I didn't respond. "Sorry, I'm just shocked. Wow. Just, wow."

"Yep. It's amazing. Obviously I'll get an apartment with Rip. Kam and Bailey mentioned trying to find one in the same building. Q, I think this is just what I need to break out of this post-Marc funk."

My whole body tightens just thinking about what he did to her. Marc Whittaker didn't just break her heart. He shattered her special Arizona spirit. She's been a shell of the free-spirited, confident woman I've always known her to be.

She does need this fresh start. And as hard as it might be for me to have Ripley around, Arizona needs her. She needs both of us to be there for her .

I nod. "I think this could be great for you. Put that piece of shit in your past. Permanently."

She lifts her eyebrows. "Stop fucking beaning him every time you face him."

I smirk. When I pitch against his team, I throw the ball right at his fucking head every damn time. I don't care about getting ejected from the game. That fucker has it coming, and I'll never stop. Though after the last time, the league threatened a suspension if I do it again.

She rolls her eyes. "I see you smiling."

I chuckle. "It's funny watching him wince when he gets nailed with a hundred-mile-per-hour pitch. I put a little something extra into it just for him."

She sighs. "Don't let him keep getting to you. You're going to get suspended if you do it again."

"It's fine. We only have one more series against them this season, and it's not for a while."

"I'm staying away from that game, but I'm psyched I'll get to catch you in action when it doesn't interfere with my playing schedule. Maybe Mom and Dad will come out for a few days. They can see both of us play."

I let out a laugh. "Yeah right. Don't hold your breath. They'll never leave that precious shop of theirs to fly across the country."

"Ugh. You're so hard on them."

"Z, I've played pro ball for a dozen years, and they've never once come to a game."

She sighs. She's so defensive of them. "That's not true. They go to your games in Oakland and San Fran every year."

"They arrive in the fucking seventh or eighth inning every time. They don't see shit."

"They do the best they can. "

"Do they?"

Her face falls. "I'll admit it's kind of crazy. I'll never be that kind of parent. I won't miss anything for my kids."

"That's why I'm never having any kids. No one to disappoint."

She rolls her eyes as she always does when I mention my lack of desire to be a parent. She thinks I'm kidding.

"Whatever. You'll change your tune one day."

"Unlikely. When are you moving?"

"My flight is a week from Monday. Ripley is coming on the same day. Kam and Bailey arrive a few days later."

I scrunch my face. "Shit. We have a weeklong road trip leading into the all-star break. I won't be in town to help when you get here, but then I'll have a few days off."

"It's cool. It's such bullshit that you didn't make the all-star team. This is the best season of your career."

I smile with a bit of pride at that. It's true. I've never thrown better. "It's not a big deal. They gave it to the younger guys. It means more to them. Frankly, I welcome a few days off. I want my team to win the World Series this year. I don't give a shit about individual, meaningless accolades. I want to rest up for the second half of our season. We have a real chance at going far. I assume with the four of you reunited, your team will be immediate contenders."

"You're right. Maybe we'll both win championships this year. That would be amazing."

"Sure would."

She smiles nervously. "Are you seriously besties with Layton Lancaster?"

I point at her. "Stay away from him. Yes, he's my best friend here, but he's a womanizing manwhore. He has no respect for women at all. He's the last thing you need after the Marc disaster."

Arizona had a damn shrine to him in her bedroom when she was a teenager. Something I most definitely will not ever share with Lancaster.

"I know. I'm never dating a baseball player again. Guaranteed."

"Good. I'm sick of beating teammates off with a stick to keep them away from you. I spent all of my college years doing that."

She giggles. It's music to my ears. She's been a mess since the Marc debacle. I miss my happy, sassy, nutty, little sister.

She looks closely into the phone. "Are you topless? Why don't you ever wear shirts? It's weird."

"It's fucking hot here. East Coast summers are no joke. Are you jealous of my abs?"

"More like flabs. You're getting old. You have a dadbod now."

I look down, examining myself, and hear her unique Arizona snort-laugh. She's fucking with me. I have a good body.

"Z, I love hearing you laugh, even if it's at my expense."

She gives me a small smile as she nods in agreement. "Me too."

I'm walking out on the tarmac toward our plane to board it for a long road trip before the all-star break. I can't stop thinking about Ripley moving to Philly and what it will mean. I feel like it's a car crash you observe unfolding but can't do anything about it. I hope we all come out of this unscathed; Arizona, Ripley, and me.

It looks like everyone else has made their way onto the plane. I see Layton walk out of a different exit from me, an equal distance from the steps of the plane. We stare at each other, smile, and then both take off in a dead sprint, not wanting to be last.

I make it to the steps just a hair ahead of him and laugh. "I can't believe you let a pitcher kick your ass."

He grimaces. "I'm a catcher. Our knees are always fucked. Damn it. Now I need to come up with something."

We both walk on the plane. Cheetah, who's taken to my little random fact game quite well, immediately yells out, "You're up, Lancaster. Give us a good one."

Layton smiles. He's clearly got something in mind. "Everyone's tongue print is different. It's like a fingerprint that way. There are lots of ladies who have a very unique #laidbylayton tongue print on them." He flicks his tongue suggestively and then thrusts his hips.

Everyone starts laughing. #laidbylayton is always trending. Women he sleeps with, women he doesn't sleep with, and basically any woman in her twenties in the city of Philadelphia and any town we visit love to pose for photos with him and include that hashtag. It doesn't bother him at all. In fact, he embraces it.

I head toward the back of the plane, needing a little alone time away from the crazies for this trip. I elect to sit next to Dutton.

He looks up at me from his seated position. "How's it going, Q? "

I blow out a long breath. "I have a few things on my mind. I need a little peace and quiet for this trip."

He nods in understanding. "You want to talk about it, or no?"

I'm quiet for a moment. "My sister is moving to Philly."

"Is that a good or bad thing?"

I chuckle. "A very good thing. We're extremely close. We haven't lived in the same city since I left for college. It's more than welcome."

"Then what's weighing on you?"

I'm silent.

"Ah, the broken heart. What does it have to do with your sister?" He narrows his eyes. "Oh shit. Have you been reading Cheetah's books? Stepsister shit is cool in porn and romance novels, not in real life."

I can't help but start laughing. "No. She's not my stepsister, and it only relates to my real sister because the woman is her best friend and she's moving here too."

He breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank fuck for that. I don't need a PR nightmare. What's the problem? Did it end badly?"

"It did."

"You don't have to give me details if you don't want to, but you're thirty-three. Put on your big boy pants and have a real conversation with this woman. Is she one of the crazies?"

I shake my head. "No. She's perfect. Too perfect for my fucked-up ass."

"There ya go. Talk to her. Talking is very underrated in your generation. Don't text, don't email, don't fucking SnapShit or whatever it's called. Pull her aside and have a real adult conversation. Put this shit to bed. You're the ace of our staff right now. I need you focused, not involved in childish drama."

I nod. "You're right. Thanks for the advice."

He places his hand on my shoulder. "I told you, my door is always open. I'm here for you on and off the field."

"Thanks, Dutton. What about you? Do you date at all?"

He sighs. "I didn't for a very long time after my wife passed. It was hard to fathom being with someone else. She was the only woman I ever loved. I'm on a few dating websites. It's more of a hassle having to sift through profiles and play stupid games. I haven't met anyone who truly interests me. I'm not sure I ever will."

"Do you want to get married again?"

He shrugs. "I'm not against it. I loved being married." He stares at me for a few long beats. "Don't overthink. When the situation is right, you'll know. I promise."

Not what I was thinking at all. It will never be right for me.