“Do you believe in love at first sight?” I never have until I met her.
Bellamy shakes her head slowly.
“Well damn, guess I have some work to do there as well.” I wink, lean forward and kiss her cheek. “Thanks for dinner. I’ll call you tomorrow with the practice schedule.” I’m up and out of her house before she can say anything. I don’t want to ruin the night by making a pass that she may not be ready for and leaving her on the high she’s feeling will make her anticipation for my call even better.
Mother nature has not been our friend and many in the division feel as though the League should schedule the mid to east coast teams to start down south where the climate is a bit friendlier. There have been many rain delays, including for snow, across the AL and NL Central and East, prompting schedule changes and doubleheaders. It only makes sense for the League to investigate further. As much as we enjoy baseball in April, we also prefer to keep our snowsuits packed away until November.
* * *
However, despite the inclement weather through the month of April, the Renegades haven’t done too shabby as they close out May and head into June. We’ve avoided any major injuries and our bats are on fire with the Renegades outscoring their opponents 247 to 184 with a win/loss record of 28 and 18. The normal suspects stand out: Kayden Cross, Travis Kidd, Branch Singleton and Ethan Davenport, all batting in the high 200’s.
* * *
It’s looking like All-Star pitcher, Hawk Sinclair, will be back in Boston after the All-Star break. According to reports, he’s back to pitching and has decided to use his off time to coach a Little League team in his hometown, aptly named the Mini Renegades. The fans are eager for him to return to the line-up and many have left him comments on our blog. We can assure you he’s receiving them.
GOSSIP WIRE
PREGNANCY ALERT!
* * *
Cooper Bailey and Ainsley Burke are . . . not pregnant. Do you like what we did there? But do you know who is? Travis Kidd and Saylor Blackwell-Kidd are expecting. There’s no news on when the Kidds’ arrival will be here, but by the shirt Lucy Kidd wore to the game the other day, the soon to be big sister is really excited! And so is the staff at the BoRe Blog!
* * *
Congratulations, Travis, Saylor and Lucy!
* * *
Still trying to unravel the Las Vegas mystery surrounding Branch Singleton. Is he married or not? No one seems to know and Branch isn’t talking.
Twenty
Bellamy
I am head over heels in lust . . . not love . . . with Hawk Sinclair. That man knows how to push, pull, and twist every single button I have, and I have a feeling he knows this by the sexy little smirks he gives me to go along with the kisses on my cheeks and the winks. This man loves to wink. What does a wink even mean? Is he joking? Sincere? Does he want to meet behind the dugout for a “cop and feel”? Whenever we’re together, which is more often than my hormones can take at the moment, I’m on edge, waiting for him to kiss me. He makes me feel like I’m back in middle school and the rumors are flying that Kent Loftin is going to kiss me on the playground. The anticipation is killing me. Every time we’re alone, he leans in and gently runs his fingers along my cheek, his breath fans over me, making my heart race and then bam! He heads for my cheek . . . I think he now realizes how frustrated I am because I swear I can hear him chuckle as he walks away afterward. When we’re not alone, his hand is always touching me somewhere: My back, hip, arm. We’re in constant contact and secretly, I love it, finding ways to touch him back so he knows that I’m into him. Karter says he’s waiting for me to kiss him, to make the first move, and maybe she’s right. I think I can be bold and assertive and show him that I like him.
It’s not all about the subtle touches or the way he makes me feel, some of my attraction to him is how Hawk is with Chase. I know Hawk is a role model, that being good to kids comes with his job, but the way he is with Chase — it’s different. I get the sense he wants to spend time with my son, more so than his own father does. In the past few weeks, Hawk has gone from the guy who played a little baseball with the boys that didn’t make the team to a friend, coach, and somewhat of a father figure to my son. The latter scares me deeply though. Hawk is leaving. His job, which is his life, is in Boston and as soon as he’s given the green light, he’s on a plane and heading back. I know this. Chase knows this. Yet, I can’t seem to put the brakes on their relationship because seeing my son smile, hearing him laugh, and seeing him and Hawk together is a feeling unlike any other.
I’ve spoken to Chase about what happens when Hawk must go back, when this fairytale we’re experiencing comes to an end and he tells me he’s okay with it, that he understands. I want to believe my son, but even I dread the day when Hawk leaves. He came into our lives when we both needed a ray of sunshine. Right now, he’s that ray. That beaming, beautiful sun making our lives brighter.
For the first time in my life I’m a baseball mom, and I love it. I never thought being stressed about getting Chase to practice on time, the carpool schedule, snack schedules, and upcoming games could be so fun, but it is. I love sitting in the stands with my mitten covered hands wrapped around my travel mug full of coffee, screaming my head off for each boy on our team, even though it’s only practice. I can’t imagine what I’ll be like when we play our first game. I love the chaos, the Little League rat race, the snide looks I get from the elitist parents because a professional baseball player is coaching my son. Those sneers are the best. Once word spread that Hawk was putting together a team, albeit a few weeks after the season had started, you would’ve thought a war was breaking out. Brett Larsen and his cronies are doing everything they can to stop the creation of the Mini Renegades. He’s filed a complaint with the Montana Little League committee, who stated they were excited that someone like Hawk was donating their time. He contacted the Renegades themselves, who laughed and said they were expecting his call and that they knew all about Hawk’s plans. And tomorrow, Brett and Hawk will go in front of the town council because Brett seems to think they can stop Hawk from participating. The meeting scares me though, because it won’t be only Brett standing up against Hawk, it’ll be every parent who’s wrapped around Brett’s little finger. There are a few who tried to jump ship, to come over to Hawk’s team of misfits — as they’ve been dubbed — but he won’t take them. He’s dedicated to the boys he has.
My phone dings and a smile spreads across my face. I close out of my computer, turn off my desk lamp and head toward Owen’s office. His door is open, and he, too, is smiling when he looks at me. I swear, volunteering Owen to help Hawk was the best thing I could’ve ever done for my boss. He needs the distraction, especially since he’s in the process of filing for divorce from his wife. He’s thanked me repeatedly for the opportunity. Plus, I think he secretly likes sticking it too Larsen . . . as the rest of us do.
“Don’t forget, my house, six sharp!” Tonight, everyone is gathering at my house for a pasta party and Hawk will hand out jerseys. The boys don’t know it yet and think they’re coming over to hang out and do some team bonding thing, which Hawk and Owen have been pushing from the second he asked the boys to play for them.
“As if I’d forget. Hawk called earlier; the club sent some extra gear.”
“Oh good, extra balls and bats will be great,” I say, but Owen shakes his head while laughing. “What?”
“Gear, as in things for parents to wear.”
“Oh,” I reply.
He’s still chuckling. “Believe me, you’ll want to wear it all.”
Since this is my first time with any of this, I take his word for it. Owen closes his laptop and comes toward me, motioning for me to go ahead. Karter is already gone for the day, leaving only Owen and me in the office. He fully expected the wrath of Larsen to come tumbling down upon him once he accepted Hawk’s offer, but so far, nothing. It’s been business as usual for the agency, for which I’m very thankful.
As soon as I’m in my
car, my phone rings and the screen on my center console shows it’s Greg calling. I groan loudly, not wanting to speak to him even though I have to. “Hello, Greg.” I pull out onto the street and head home.
“Hello, Bellamy. It’s Gregory.”
“Duh,” I say in response as I roll my eyes. “You do realize I have caller ID, right? That my phone tells me you’re calling.”
“I like to be efficient.”
“Except when it comes to parenting,” I mutter.
“What? I didn’t hear you.”
“Nothing, Greg. What do you want?”
“I know I had to cancel our meet up a few weeks back but would like to take Chase this weekend.”
“To where?” I only ask because I’m curious.
He clears his throat. “Priscilla’s mother is having a party and she’s asked that he attend.”
I’m surprised with the amount of eye rolling I do at Greg that my eyes haven’t gotten stuck. “Let me get this straight . . . your new mother-in-law wants our son at her party?”
“Yes.”
“But not you?”
“Bell—”
“Don’t ‘Bellamy’ me, Greg.” I talk over him. “He’s your son. You should want to spend time with him.”
“I do.”
“But it’s complicated, right? So, here, let me uncomplicate it for you. No! No, you may not take Chase to your mother-in-law’s this weekend because one, it’s unfair the way you treat him and how you cast him aside and two, he has a baseball game which I won’t make him miss.” I’d never even consider asking him to choose between the game and his father.
Greg clears his throat again and I have a good idea of what he’s going to say. He wants me to force Chase to come with him, to abide by the custody agreement. “You’re being unreasonable. I pay my child support on time and have tried to be there, but the distance—”
“That you agreed to . . . ” I point out.
“Yes, but I expected to have some of my weekends free when I did.”
“Well, it seems that you have this weekend free if you can go to a party. Maybe you should drive over and watch your son play the game he loves instead.”
“About that, do you really think it’s in Chase’s best interest to play for this bird character? Brett seems to think that there’s something shady going on.”
I scoff loudly and bellow out, “Ha!”
“Bellamy . . .”
“Listen, the only thing shady is your affection for Brett Larsen. I get that he was in your frat, that you took him under your wing in your fifth year of college when you groomed him to be the president of your disgusting shit hole of a house, but that man is a slime ball.” Kind of like you, I want to add. “And this ‘bird character’ — his name is Hawk Sinclair — and he’s giving your son a chance to play baseball when your so called friend wouldn’t unless I slept with him.” I seethe.
“Regardless of your attraction to Brett, I feel as if this coach isn’t right for our son.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Greg. Do you even listen to anything I say to you?”
“Of course.”
“Right, well then you’ve heard me loud and clear. Have a good day.” I press end just as I pull into my driveway. Hawk’s truck is parked in the open space and as my car idles, I stare at it, realizing how much I like seeing it there. I know I could get used to coming home to him every day, even though our relationship is borderline platonic. Karter’s voice rings out, reminding me that if I want it to go past that, I’m going to have to be the one to make a move. As much as I hate to admit it, she’s right, but time is my enemy. If I don’t do it soon, I’m going to miss my chance. After shutting off my car, I gather my things and head into my house.
As soon as I step in, I’m taken aback. Chase is sitting at the dining room table doing homework and Hawk is right next to him. Their heads are bent together and they’re going over what looks like math.
“Hey,” I say, interrupting them. They both turn and look at me, both smile, and both make my heart race but for different reasons. I lean down and kiss Chase on his forehead and am tempted to do the same for Hawk but can’t bring myself to do it. “I didn’t expect you until later.”
“I was in the neighborhood and met Chase as he got off the bus.”
“How was therapy?” I ask as I walk into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Hawk follows behind me and leans against the counter.
“Good. I can start throwing next week. I have to find a catcher, and asked my therapist for a recommendation.”
“Can’t Owen or Farmer catch for you?”
He shakes his head. “Farmer’s probably too old, but I can ask him. Owen might not be able to catch my fastball.”
“Oh, I suppose you throw pretty fast, huh?”
He grins. “About a hundred miles per hour.” Hawk places his hands on my waist and pulls me toward him. He’s had his sling off for a week now, giving him a bit more freedom with his arm. Still, there are times when I see him grimace or favor his right arm. “How was work? Any news from Longwood?”
I shake my head. “Stubborn old man. This morning he said he wasn’t selling, around lunch his son called and said they were. I don’t know which way is up with those two.”
“Maybe I’ll make him an offer, see what he says.”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
He leans toward me and I think this is it; he’s going to kiss me. His nose touches mine and my tongue darts out to wet my lips. We’re sharing the same air, breathing in and out. He’s so close, if I move a quarter of an inch, our lips will press together.
The doorbell rings, we jump apart and Chase yells out that he’ll get it. I step away from Hawk, feeling flustered and discouraged. The conversation we had was intimate, in a way a couple would speak to each other at the end of the day, and yet, here I am, pulling boxes of pasta from the cupboard while that bird character chuckles behind me.
Twenty-One
Hawk
When I sit down to think about my life, I can easily say I’m happy. Despite my shoulder injury, subsequent surgery and being away from my team, I’m doing very well. Not only am I happy, but I’m lucky too. When I look behind me, my thirteen players, their parents, my family, my former coach, David Farmer, my co-coach, Owen, and most importantly Bellamy, are all looking at me with cheerful smiles on their faces. Over on the other side of the room, which has been setup like a courtroom, the expressions of the other parents are disconcerting. A few of the mothers grin, wave and bat their eyes at me. Some of the dads glare, puff out their chests and avoid all eye contact. There’s Annie who won’t look in my direction next to Matty, who is always smiling and comes to my baseball practices against her father’s wishes. And then there are the parents who are downright pissed, not only because I started a team, but that they’ve been forced to attend this ridiculous hearing which has zero jurisdiction over Little League baseball. Still, Brett Larsen demands his day in court, however futile it may be.
The Richfield town board comes into the room. My chances are good that I walk out of here with my team because like I said, these people really have no say. In fact, I’ve already pointed out in a strongly worded letter that I hold all the cards, yet they appeased Brett and asked that we have this hearing to set some ground rules, whatever those may be.
As each member takes their seat, my nieces blurt out, “Hi, Grandpa,” causing me to chuckle. In Larsen’s infinite wisdom, he forgot that one of the members is my sister Avery’s father-in-law who, by all accounts, looks rather put out that he’s here tonight. I can’t say I blame him.
The chairman reads from a script, talking about impartiality and a bunch of horse crap that I don’t care about. When he’s done, he sets his papers aside, clasps his hands together and says, “The recreation board felt they couldn’t make a reasonable determination as to whether the Richfield bylaws have been violated and referred this open matter to us. We’ll start with Brett Larsen, Director of Richfield Little Leag
ue.” He nods toward Brett, who stands up.
“Mr. Chairman and Board Members, my first order of business is to ask that Mr. Walker recuse himself due to his conflict of interest with Mr. Sinclair.”
The Chairman looks at Avery’s father-in-law and back at Brett. “You do realize if Mr. Walker recuses himself, that will only leave four on this panel and if we were to take a vote, it wouldn’t be valid.”
“Oh,” he says, clearing his throat. “Moving on, I ask that the board enforce rule forty of the Richfield Little League bylaws, which states that only the director can establish teams.”
I hold that page in my hand and laugh. The very next line says, “unless establishment is approved by the governing body,” which my team was. I’m floored by Larsen’s attempts to stop my team from playing. I don’t know if it’s out of spite because of what happened between us in the past or if he’s concerned my little team might beat up on his.
“Mr. Sinclair, did you seek permission from . . .” he pauses and looks through his paperwork.
“I did, sir.” I hold up a copy of my email, which some man comes and takes from me.
“Mr. Larsen, I fail to see why you’re wasting our time with this. Mr. Sinclair has clearly followed your bylaws and sought permission from the governing body.”
“He’s violated other bylaws as well,” Larsen states. “We have a strict policy that uniforms can’t be over a certain dollar amount and Mr. Sinclair has exceeded this, using his wealth to outfit his team.”
Hawk: The Boys of Summer #4 Page 14