Chapter 4

MATT

* * *

"I appreciate you volunteering to help with our fall ball camp. Now that you're a big-time professional baseball player, it's nice to know you still remember your roots and have time for your old high school." Dad grabs me around the neck and pulls me in for a knuckle rub to the head. I may be twenty-three and over six feet tall, but I'll always be a kid to him.

"Quit busting my balls, Dad. You know I'll never be able to repay you for all the camps and coaching you gave me over the years. I wouldn't be where I am without you." I throw my arm around his shoulder and walk up to the field.

"I get to brag that two of my alumni are professional ball players now. As your coach, but especially as your father, I'm bursting with pride. But you did all the hard work. I just encouraged you along the way."

Yeah, life is pretty amazing these days. In the past few months, I graduated college, signed with my dream baseball team, and played the rest of the season in Charleston on their triple-A team, the Ghost Peppers. Now, I'm officially in the off-season, the first one I've ever had in my life. When my father, who is also my former high school baseball coach, asked if I could give him a hand as a batting coach this fall at my old school, I couldn't say no.

Honestly, I didn't want to say no. This off-season is the first time I haven't had a baseball in my hand since I was six. Helping Dad keeps me on the field and off my couch. Sounds like a win-win to me.

"Got any hot prospects this year?" I ask. Our school has always had a solid team. Dad is one hell of a good coach. It's common for several players to make it to college ball, with a few even playing for Division One schools. Cole Davidson and I are the first two to get the call into the big leagues, and Dad isn't shy to let everyone know.

"I've got a junior pitcher that has serious potential. And our catcher can knock the leather off the ball. There's one kid I'd like you to mentor if you can. He needs to focus and get his head straight, but he won't listen to me."

"Sure, just point him out, and I'll see what I can do." I'm used to being the father figure on the team. In college, I always kept tabs on teammates, ensuring the grades were there, monitoring study hall, and offering relationship advice. That role was ingrained early. The guys dubbed me Captain America. I'm not sure I'm all that, but I'm a clean-cut, do-the-right-thing kind of guy.

It's the curse of the coach's kid. I have to be better and work harder because everyone thinks I got the starting spot because of my dad. Little do they know, he'd pull me faster than any other kid on the field. His standards were high, especially for me. I'm not complaining. Because of him, I've developed a strong work ethic, a healthy level of responsibility, and excellent baseball skills that'll take me far. I plan on playing baseball at the highest level for a long time. My dad gave me the foundation for my future, and I'll always be grateful. But to say it was easy because I'm the coach's kid is flat out wrong.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, and Dad says, "Make it quick. We have a strict no phone policy and no special rules for the coach's kid." He gives me a wink and steps toward the field.

"Don't I know it," I mumble.

Without knowing who's calling but having a father's sixth sense, he adds, "And tell him if he can make the time, I'd like to see his sorry ass down here soon." He laughs as he walks away.

I answer the FaceTime request. "Hey man, what's up?" Cole's face fills my screen.

"Matt, where the hell are you? Did the Reapers knock you back to high school already?" He laughs at his jab. We spent so many hours at this ball field, he knew it as soon as he saw it.

"Nah, man. About to help Dad with fall practice. He says to get your ass down here and help, superstar. Or are you getting soft in the off-season?"

"I'm not complaining about this downtime." He glances to his right, a smile lighting up his face. "You know what? Send me the schedule, and I'll see if I can't get down there in the next few weeks."

"Really? That would be great!"

I'm trying to find my way as a solo act, but truth be told, I miss my best friend. We've been inseparable since third grade. Until now. It's the first time we haven't been on the same team, in the same city, in fifteen years. I visited him a few weeks ago, but it wasn't enough time.

A beautiful girl wraps her arms around his neck and puts her head on his shoulder. Ah, the reason for the momentary distraction and smile, Ashleigh.

"Hey Matt, what's going on with your hair? Looks like you just rolled out of bed." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. Well, she attempts to be suggestive. This girl cracks me up.

"Seriously, have you met me? Like I've got time for a hook-up." Unfortunately, that's not exactly the truth. I've been busy, but I have more time on my hands than ever right now. If I wanted to date, now would be the time, but why bother? The season starts back up in a few short months, and I could move at a moment's notice. Nah, now is not the time to start a romantic relationship. Besides, being back home has made the dating pool seem small, and I can't stomach cleat chasers.

"Well, now that it's the off-season, make time," she says. She kisses Cole on the cheek and disappears from the screen.

"Just because you two are blissfully happy doesn't mean we all have to be subjected to it, you know." I'm happy for them. It's just hard to watch sometimes.

A chuckle escapes his lips. "I can't complain about the lifestyle, my friend. You should give it a try."

"Look, I gotta run. No phones at practice. But quick question. Have you talked to Darcy lately?"

"Um, not sure I like that transition. I tell you to get laid, and you mention my sister?"

I turn red as a tomato. "No, no, not what I meant. Just wondered what she's been up to. I haven't checked on her since we got back from Nashville."

"She's busy with her senior project and picking up a few shifts at The Wreck. I don't know if she's on or off with that d-bag Ryan. I know I promised to let her live her life, but I don't like that guy. But I think she's good. Just a lot going on. I bet she'd appreciate food or something fun."

Do I mention her getting cozy with Chance yesterday? I didn't realize Ryan was still in the picture. That's even more confusing. "Yeah, I'll shoot her a text or something."

"Thanks, man. I know Leigh will disagree with me, but she needs an older brother, whether or not she knows it. And you know, since I'm not there, you'll have to do." Cole's right. Darcy is family, and it's my job to ensure she's doing well.

My dad blows his whistle to call everyone in from warm-ups.

"Gotta go. I don't want to get fired from my volunteer coaching job." Cole and I both laugh.

"Sounds good, man. I'll check my calendar and see about getting down there soon. Peace, brother."

I disconnect the call and pocket my phone. Damn, I miss my best friend. I'm trying to stay busy with practice, going to the gym, and hitting the surf most mornings, but it's not the same without him. This adulting thing kinda sucks.

* * *

Dad and I finish up practice and decide to grab dinner. Mom has a book club or something, so we make it a guy's night out. It beats grabbing fast food and eating it alone while I watch Sports Center.

Even though I've been back in Charleston for a few months, I've been busy with the team traveling and haven't been able to hit my favorite places. Pulling into the familiar parking lot transports me back to when Dad would bring Cole and me here for dinner after a big win.

It's a warm evening, so we sit at an outside table and watch the shrimp boats come in from their day. Shem Creek is fresh seafood, colorful sunsets, and family. I smile at the memories, and peace and tranquility wash over me. With a deep exhale, I relax into my seat.

"That's a rather ominous sigh," Dad says.

"Nah, it's good. I'm just thinking about when we came here after games. It's nice to be home, that's all." And it is. I relax for the first time in years. Maybe ever. It's a foreign feeling, but one I'm willing to explore.

"Hey Coach, what can I get ya'll tonight?" I look up when I hear a familiar voice, her slight southern drawl wrapping around me like a warm blanket on a chilly night. She looks tired. Her dark hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, but her hazel eyes sparkle, even with the circles underneath. She's wearing a baggy sweatshirt that fits like a micro dress, with her cut-off denim shorts peeking out from under the hem. Her red Chuck Taylors, her signature waitress shoe since she was sixteen, complete the outfit that is totally Darcy. She makes eye contact with me and smiles.

"Hey Matt. Fancy seeing you here."

"I didn't know you still worked here, Darce. I thought you'd be swamped with your senior year."

"Oh, trust me, I am. But Jeff's let me pick up a few shifts for shoe money. You know, a girl can never have too many shoes." She gives me a quick wink and blushes.

"Hey, if you need money," I start. Dad tilts his head with an amused look. He's always teased me about my relationship with Darcy. She's the little sister I never had, that's all.

"Don't be silly. I'm good. I signed up for these shifts before my sugar daddy made me a kept woman. So, I won't be doing this much longer, anyway." She giggles, her laugh light and airy.

"Um, excuse me?" My voice is a little louder and harsher than I intended. "Sugar daddy? What the hell, Darcy? Are you trying to give me a heart attack here?" That fucker. Chance Fuller.

Dad laughs at the incredulous look I'm giving her.

"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Isn't that right, Coach?" She gives him a wink.

"As long as the girl is happy," he says, smiling back at her. WTF, Dad?

"So, what can I get you guys," she says, shifting back into business mode.

"I'll take the flounder and a Blue Moon," Dad says.

"Gotcha. Matt?" She's looking at me, waiting for my order. I've lost my appetite.

"Same." I glare at her, trying to figure out what's happening.

"Great, I'll bring that out in a flash."

She turns and walks away, her hips swaying under her baggy sweatshirt.

"Darcy sure has grown into a beautiful young woman, hasn't she?" Dad asks. He pulls my attention from the retreating figure of my best friend's little sister. "I always liked her. I admire the way she marches to her own drummer. She has a unique sense of style."

"Um, yeah." Darcy is unique. She's stylish and a trendsetter, putting her stamp on everything she touches. She has a way of making everything around her more beautiful. I'm sure she could be a social media influencer with minimal effort if she put her mind to it. She has that magic touch to make beauty seem effortless and natural. It's a gift.

"What's got you rattled?"

"I didn't like the sugar daddy comment," I answer honestly, not thinking how Dad might interpret it.

"I noticed, but I'm sure she was teasing. Darcy's smarter than that. She's independent. The last thing I could imagine her doing is relying on a man for anything."

Was she teasing? I would've taken that comment as a joke, too, if she hadn't been on the deck of a multimillion-dollar beach house with a professional hockey player this morning. Now I'm not so sure.

"Maybe." Another waitress brings our beers while Darcy serves other tables outside. Dad and I take a big pull from our bottles. He watches the boats, and I watch Darcy.

She connects with her diners, many locals like us, and chats with everyone. Her infectious smile makes everyone around her feel at home. A little boy, probably about two or three years old, is wiggling in his chair, causing his mother anxiety. Darcy scoops him up and puts him on her hip, bouncing him while she talks to the parents. She takes him with her inside while she places their order. I assume they must be regulars or friends because she brings him back a minute later with a coloring sheet and crayons. She puts him in his chair and whispers something in his ear. He grins up at her and earnestly draws something for her. She rubs his head and walks off to her next table.

She's a natural with people. Easy going. Friendly. Kind. Beautiful. Sexy. Wait? Where did that come from?

"She's the real deal, isn't she?"

"Um, what?" Dad's comment catches me off guard.

"Darcy, she's the real deal. An extraordinary young woman." He takes another draw on his beer, his attention shifting from the boats to me.

She approaches our table with our food.

"Here ya go. The best flounder caught today for the best baseball guys in Charleston." Dad chuckles at the comment.

"Thanks," Dad says. "Looks great."

I stare, trying to figure out what's going on with her. Dad kicks me under the table.

"Yeah, looks great. Thanks."

"Well, let me know if ya'll need anything else." She walks away.

"What time do you get done tonight?" I call out.

She turns her head and looks back at me. "Huh? We close at nine. Why?"

"I want to catch up. Let's grab a drink or something."

"Um, I'd love to, but I can't. I'm meeting someone after work."

Shit. Is Chance still in town? I make a note to check his team schedule. When did I become a puck bunny? Damn. "Oh, okay. I'll text you. Let's catch up soon."

"Sure, that would be great." I watch her walk back inside.

"You think drinks with Darcy is a smart move?" Dad asks. He casually asks and begins to eat his dinner.

"I promised Cole I'd watch out for her. Something's going on. Did she look tired to you?" I don't wait for an answer. "She looks tired. I just want to make sure she's doing okay." I want to find out what's going on with Darcy because I'm Cole's best friend. It's what he'd want me to do. I'm doing this for Cole. And Darcy.

"You keep telling yourself that," Dad says under his breath. He gives me a strange smile, like he knows something, but I have no idea what.

I pick at my dinner. This food is delicious, but my mind is racing with scenarios of Darcy and sugar daddies. When I can't stand it anymore, I pull out my phone and find the Renegades schedule. They have a game tonight against the Charleston Sharks and don't have another one for the next three days. Chance could stay in town, I guess.

"Since when are you into hockey? I know you met Chance Fuller a few times. Are you in his fan club now?" Dad nods to my phone as I lay it on the table.

"Trust me, I'm most definitely not in the Chance Fuller fan club. Not one bit."

I need to go. Tossing plenty of money on the table to cover dinner and an extra hundred for Darcy's tip, I grab my phone and head to my car. I may not have NHL-level money yet, but if Darcy Davidson needs money, she'll get it from me, not Chance "Sugar Daddy" Fuller.

Dad laughs as I walk away. I'm glad he thinks this is funny because I don't see any humor in it. Nope. None at all.