Hawk: The Boys of Summer #4

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “Man, don’t tell Stone. He’ll fire our current staff and bring her in.”

  Wouldn’t be a bad thing, I think to myself, and maybe it’s something I should hint around about before I leave, although maybe she’s happy working in a rehab facility and working with college athletes.

  For the longest time I wanted to quit on her because of the pain. It didn’t matter that I knew I needed her, everything she did, everything she put my arm through, was agonizing. She had a job to do, and that was to get me back on the field. So far, she’s done exactly what’s been asked of her and I’ve been right on track with the exception of my minor mishap in using Brett as a punching bag. Even after my run in with Larsen’s face, I made sure everyone who mattered knew it was my fault I was behind schedule, not hers. The last thing I wanted was for her to lose her job.

  The timer goes off and Javier and I get out of the tub. We wrap ourselves in the towels provided and head toward the locker room where we both slip into the BoRe gear of sweatpants, long sleeved shirts and pullover jackets. It’s still fairly chilly in Montana, hovering in the high sixties/low seventies, which is cold to Javier and me who are used to it being around eighty right about now.

  Since his arrival, he’s been staying at my parents in the room I vacated when I sort of moved in with Bellamy. I get the feeling my mom is upset with me for leaving and I don’t expect her to understand, but being at home is awkward, especially when Warner is hounding me about the ranch — not to mention the side comments from my sisters. Besides, staying with Bellamy is showing me everything that I’m missing in life, like a partner and, dare I say . . . a kid. I love Chase. I think he’s an amazing boy and I can’t, for the life of me, understand how his father can treat him the way he does.

  After an hour drive, during which Javier reads all the stats from last night’s game even though we watched it, we’re finally back in town. I take us to Main Street, park the truck and head into the deli for lunch. It’s busy, with the line almost to the door, but fully worth the wait.

  “Who knew small town America was like this?” Javier asks. I look around, trying to see what he sees and how it differs from where he lives. He did a minor stint with the BoRe’s last year, caught a few games for me while Cashman was injured, and then went back to Pawtucket and now he’s in Portland, Maine until he goes back to Rhode Island. Not exactly metropolises and more like places I’d consider small towns, especially in New England. Every town I have visited is quaint with picturesque Main Streets.

  “Do you like it here?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “I like the east coast, the ocean. Makes me feel like I’m home.”

  “Minus the weather.”

  He laughs. “Going back to the DR during the off-season is the best medicine.”

  We finally place our order and decide to take it to go. As I drive toward the baseball fields, I spot Bellamy escorting a couple toward a house. I honk, Javier sticks his head out the window and yells her name as I wave. I think she’s smiling, at least I’m hoping she is, but I admit, we were a little obnoxious.

  “How long have you been together?” Javier asks.

  “Not long,” I tell him. “We met a few days after I got here, and I’ve seen her every day since.”

  “And you’re leaving soon.”

  I’m silent for a minute before I answer him. “I’m going to be the ultimate dick and ask her to come with me. I expect her to say no, though, because she has a good job and her mom is here.”

  “What about her son?”

  “I want him too.” And I do. I want Chase and Bellamy to be in Boston with me, but I’m not sure how to make that work, especially with Greg somewhat back in the picture.

  Twenty-Six

  Bellamy

  My cheeks flush when Javier yells my name and Hawk starts honking, although I’m thrilled that he happened to drive by. He left so early this morning that I really didn’t get a chance to tell him goodbye. Normally, we wake, he makes breakfast for Chase while I shower, and we share our morning together before I’m off to my first showing or he’s heading to his parents. On the days he has therapy or training, he’s gone before the sun is up and does his best not to wake me. Those mornings are lonely and tend to remind me that my time with Hawk is getting shorter and shorter by the day. He doesn’t know this, but I’m keeping track of the pitches he’s thrown because I’ve heard him tell Chase that on average, he throws one hundred a game and something tells me that’s the magic number that sends him back to Boston.

  After Greg moved out of our home, it took me months to fall asleep. Depression took over. I felt inadequate as a wife, a woman. I couldn’t even sleep in my own bed because I saw visions of my husband with another woman in there, even though he swore he never brought her into our home. It hadn’t mattered if he did; in my mind, my world was violated by them. I quit my job because she was there, and I’d have to work with him as well. Where does one escape when your world is falling apart around you? Your home is supposed to be your sanctuary . . . mine became hell. Sure, I still had Chase so I pasted the biggest, brightest smile on my face until he got on the bus every morning. Then for seven hours, I’d wallow, wondering out loud to the walls that were closing in what I did wrong. Nothing. That’s what. In the end, I realized Greg would’ve cheated no matter what.

  When Hawk spent the first night at my house, I didn’t want him to leave but I could never come out and ask him to stay. I don’t want him to think I’m clingy, even though I want to be. Just call me plastic wrap. Every night he’s stayed I wake up in the morning with a smile on my face because I know he’s there. Life with Hawk is easy. We move around each other easily. He helps when I don’t expect him to by doing the dishes, sitting down with Chase to go over homework, showing up on Field Day at Chase’s school, making sure my son is occupied during the day, cooking dinner, mowing my lawn . . . my God the list of things this man has done for my son and me can go on and on. The worst part — he’s leaving. I can’t even ask him to stay because I know the answer is no. Who, in their right mind, would give up a baseball career to play lover to a single mom? No one I know, that’s for sure.

  One day, after Hawk had left for therapy, I asked Chase on our way to school if Hawk was good at his job. My son scoffed and rattled off stats that made no sense to me. When I looked at him with nothing but pure confusion on my face, Chase simply said, “He’s one of the best, Mom.” Of course he is and now he’s doing everything he can to get back to his job.

  Despite the fact I’m embarrassed, I’m also happy Hawk drove by. I know it was purely happenstance but it feels different, almost like he knew I’d be on this street at this time, walking toward the house. I’m not sure if I believe in fate or kismet, or even love at first sight like he does, but I believe in him and what we have going on. However, I’m not stupid enough to think we’ll last with the distance between us. The fairytale is going to end soon, and it saddens me. When I think about talking to him about a future, my stomach twists in knots and the idea makes me ill. The talk has to happen, but I don’t want to be the one to bring it up.

  “Think you could get me his autograph?” Mr. Pearl asks as I turn back toward him and his wife.

  Mrs. Pearl slaps her husband. “Don’t be rude.”

  “What?” he asks, shrugging. “It’s a valid question.”

  Rude or not, he’s right, the question is valid. “Hawk is signing autographs this Saturday at the fields. He has a few teammates coming to town. It’s mostly for kids, but I have a feeling I can get him to make an exception for you.”

  Mr. Pearl smiles brightly, that is until I look at his wife and say, “And for you, I’ll make sure he and his buddies take a picture with you. Word on the street is the other players coming are . . .” I pull out my cell phone to read Karter’s comments verbatim, “…hotter than hot, delicious and lickable.” My cheeks flare up again as Mrs. Pearl fans herself.

  “I’ll be there,” she says, much to her husband’s dismay.

&
nbsp; I motion for them to walk toward the door. I put my code into the lockbox, wait for it to open and pull the key out. After I open the front door, they step inside.

  “I’ll take it,” Mrs. Pearl says immediately. Oh, how I wish selling houses was this easy. She looks at her husband. “I want this house.”

  “You barely stepped inside,” he points out.

  “I don’t care, I’ve seen all the pictures.”

  “I’m going to be in the kitchen. Go ahead and look around. If you need me, just holler.” I leave them in the entryway to duke it out. I met them last year when they sold their home, bought a motorhome and set off into the sunset. Mrs. Pearl called a few months back saying she was tired of living on wheels and wanted a house again. I don’t know why they came back to Richfield when their children are spread out across the country, but they had and asked me to find them a home. This is the first one we’ve looked at with four more on our list for the day, and I have a feeling she’s going to want all five of them.

  I’m going through paperwork when my phone vibrates against the granite countertop. I look down and smile at Hawk’s name.

  Hawk: I’m so happy I saw you. You look so hot in that skirt.

  Everything he says or does makes me blush. I send him back the emoji showing my red cheeks.

  Hawk: I love that I make you blush.

  Love . . . that four letter word that lingers between us. It sits on the tip of my tongue. There are times when I want to blurt it out in the middle of a conversation, like when he’s sitting next to me on the couch and we’re watching a movie. He’ll look over at me and move a stray piece of hair away from my face. I want to tell him then. Or when I stand in the doorway of Chase’s bedroom, spying on him while he reads some baseball magazine to my son who is focused on Hawk and not the magazine. I want to tell him right then and there, and I know Chase would echo my sentiment. But making such a profound declaration will muddy the waters. Deep down I think Hawk knows how we feel, but I can’t let my emotions ruin everything. For my sake and that of my son’s, I have to make these last days count.

  I contemplate what to say back. My fingers hover over the predictive text. Right in the center is the word love, and to the left of it is “I”, to the right, “you”. I could easily press the three and not type a single word but telling him I love him for the first time over text is not how the words should be said. Instead, I keep it normal.

  I’m thinking ribs for dinner?

  Hawk: Need me to stop at the store before going home?

  My day brightens when he calls my house home. Hell, he brightens everything about my day. That would be great, I text back.

  Hawk: I noticed we are low on dish soap. I’ll grab some.

  I stand there, starring at the text. In all the years Greg and I lived together, I can’t recall a single time he noticed we were out of something and went to the store to buy it. Sure, he’d tell me we were out of toilet paper or that Chase needed diapers, but he never took the initiative to restock. Again, I find myself wanting to tell Hawk that I love him, but in this case it’s because he’s so aware of what’s going on around him.

  You’re the best, I text back, and I mean it. He really is, and in a few weeks when he leaves, I’m going to be a wreck.

  The Pearls finally make their way to the kitchen and I pretend I’m reading an email instead of summarizing my relationship in my head. I grab my things and move to the other room, giving them a chance to look around. This house has an amazing kitchen, everything is brand new and state of the art. Mrs. Pearl loves to cook, which is another reason why I think she wants a home. This house is too big for the two of them, but I imagine she’s looking toward the holidays when her children will come back to Montana with their children. I believe she told me she had nine grandchildren with three on the way. Her eyes light up every time she speaks about her family.

  “Bellamy?” Mrs. Pearl’s voice rings out from the kitchen. I walk in and find Mr. Pearl standing at the sink, looking out over the yard. The previous owner left the custom swing set when they moved, and it would be perfect for the Pearl’s grandchildren.

  “Mrs. Pearl?”

  “I love this house,” she says, warmly. “It’s big with the four bedrooms we’re looking for.”

  “It is.”

  “And the basement is perfect for a game room.”

  “I agree.” I’m not sure where she’s going with this and Mr. Pearl is doing his best to ignore her. She keeps looking at his back and sighing. “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

  She smiles. “It’s the price. It’s out of our budget.”

  I should’ve expected this. They’re retired and living on a fixed income, of course the price is an issue. “If you really want the house, why not make an offer and see what the seller says? The house has been on the market for almost six months; they might be ready to get rid of it.”

  Now Mr. Pearl turns around. “Do you think they’d be willing to sell for less than the asking price?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. We aren’t the listing agent so the only thing I can do is send over an offer and try to negotiate on your behalf.”

  Mrs. Pearl smiles at her husband who has walked to her side. “Let’s do it.” She reaches for his hand and he kisses her softly. I turn away, giving them their moment.

  In the dining room, I pull out the contract and put an “X” next to where they need to sign. They come into the room and Mr. Pearl tells me what they want to offer. I mentally calculate the difference and think that it’s a fair offer and there really shouldn’t be any reason why the seller doesn’t accept. As soon as we finish up, I head to the office. I want to get the offer sent to the seller’s agent as soon as possible.

  When I walk in, our new receptionist greets me, telling me I have flowers waiting for me on my desk. It’s nice of her to let me know, but unnecessary since I can see them. As I sit down, I pull the card from the clear plastic stem and prepare to fall more in love with Hawk than I already am.

  I saw these and thought of you ~ Hawk

  Why is he so perfect? More importantly, why is he leaving? I know the answer to my last question, but it doesn’t help make the situation feel any better. I set the card in my purse so I can put it somewhere safe when I get home.

  “He’s in love with you.” Karter’s voice startles me. I hold my hand against my heart and glare at her.

  “You need a bell or something to announce your arrival.”

  She laughs, bends slightly at her waist and inhales the fragrant roses. “You’re the only one I sneak up on, everyone else hears me coming a mile away. Anyway, when is he leaving?”

  I shake my head slightly. “I’m not sure, we really haven’t discussed it, nor has he said.”

  “You don’t ask?”

  “Not really a conversation I want to have.”

  “Yeah, I can see that.” She sits down on the chair across from my desk. “But you have to.”

  “Yeah.” I do what I can to ignore the elephant in the room. Thinking about Hawk leaving is not high on my priority list. Getting this offer sent in and going home to him and Chase is though. I scan the offer and email it to the other agent, asking him to call me when he’s had a chance to speak to his client. There’s going to be some back and forth, which is to be expected, but I’m hoping it’s all reasonable. I ask her what she knows about this other agent. She says he’s objective and easy to work with. I tell her about the Pearl’s and how I’d love to close this deal for them, when my phone rings. It’s Greg, the last person I want to speak to right now. I send him to voicemail and tell Karter I’ll see her in the morning, as I’m calling it a day.

  My drive home is quick and when I pull into the driveway, I’m excited to find Hawk’s truck there. I’m eager to see him and rush inside, praying that Javier isn’t with him, although chances are that he is. I burst through the door and find Hawk walking toward the living room. We both stand there, looking at each other.

  “Is Javier here?”
>
  He shakes his head.

  “Chase?”

  Again, his head moves slowly back and forth. He knows exactly what I’m getting at and moves toward me, except he’s too slow. I don’t want to wait. I leap toward him and he catches me effortlessly. I try to wrap my legs around him, but my damn skirt prevents me. He senses this and hikes my skirt up over my ass, carrying me toward our bedroom.

  Twenty-Seven

  Hawk

  Today’s a big day in the world of Little League baseball in Richfield, Montana. To date, I’m the biggest star to come from this tiny town and since it has been pointed out to me a time or two that I don’t actually belong here anymore, I thought I’d do something to show the people of my hometown what they mean to me. And by people, I mean the kids, because when it comes down to it, they’re the only ones who haven’t shunned me. No, I take that back. For the most part the people have been very welcoming, minus a few who are associated with Brett Larsen. It’s fine, I’m not bitter.

  I arrive at the fields early, mostly to make sure everything is in place for what’s about to happen and to give the guys a chance to check out my complex. I’m proud of it and want to show it off. Travis, Ethan, Branch, Cooper, Kayden and I stay in the confines of my rented SUV. The windows are tinted so the people in the line forming along the fence have no idea that my teammates are with me. But they know someone important is here because they’re cheering. I frown as I take in the line. There are more adults than children. It’s my hope that with school being out for the summer, more youngsters will show up.

  “This place looks awesome,” Branch says from behind me.

  “I played a lot of ball in complexes like this. My parents loved it because it meant less travel,” Ethan adds.

  Travis sighs and I look over at him sitting in the passenger seat. “What’s your issue?” I ask him.