by Lisa Sommers
I nearly fall out my chair at his confession. What is he talking about? “Dad, you’ve always been there for me. I don’t underst . . .”
He cuts me off before I have a chance to finish. “Shane. Just listen to me. Please,” he says, and I nod my head in response. “Shane, I’ve tried to be a good dad to you.”
“You have,” I interject.
“Would you let me finish?” His glare practically slaps my face in response. “Now, son, I’ve always wanted more for you.”
What the fuck is he talking about? I am about to press the nurse call button, thinking he needs some sort of medicine.
“Yes, you’ve grown into the baseball player that you always wanted to be. That I always wanted you to be, but”—he pauses to cough—“you need more. You need the love of a good woman. I treated your mom like shit. Look at me. I’m alone. I’m dying and I’m alone.”
“You have me, dad.”
Yes, he treated my mom poorly, but he tried to make up for it. The problem was, it was just too late. He wanted Mom back but she already moved on. My dad shoots me a death glare one last time.
“Shane, you need a good woman in your life. You can achieve anything you want in life. Hell, you can fly to the moon and back if you wish, but none of it means anything if you have no one to share it with. You need a good woman, like your mother. Make me some grandchildren, will you?” He tries to laugh, but instead he does nothing but cough. “You need to promise me you will do that.”
I shake my head in response. I’ve never lied to my dad. We’ve had one of those relationships where we did everything together. We hung out together. We partied together. He has always been there for me. Can I lie to him? I’m sure he’d see right through me if I did. It dawns on me that my dad will never see another one of my games again. He will never see his son living the dream. He will never meet my future wife. He will never have the chance to meet my kids. His grandkids. Lying to him on his deathbed is not something I ever planned on doing.
“I met her dad.” I hold his hand, but keep my gaze on the cold tile floor beneath me. I hate lying to him.
“Look at me, Shane,” he says.
He will see right through me the second I do, but I look up and stare into his gravely ill eyes.
He nods his head. “Tell me her name,” he insists.
Fuck.
“Son, look into my eyes.”
Here it goes. I let him down as he takes his last breath.
“Tell me her name.”
“Alli,” I spew out fast and rigid. I look at his sunken face and wonder if he is going to berate me.
Once again, he nods his head. “Alli, huh? She sounds pretty,” he says. His head twitches to one side and he lets out a groan. “Take a seat and tell me about her, son.”
“Dad . . .”
“Tell me about her, Shane.”
I take a seat in the chair and lean forward, putting my head in my hands as I grasp onto my hair. “She’s beautiful,” I let out. I think back to last night when Alli suddenly became vulnerable. “She’s sweet, kind, thoughtful . . . and she’s unbelievably sexy.”
Dad chuckles through a couple of manic coughing fits, before getting it under control. “She sounds perfect,” he says.
“Dad, I . . .”
“I wish I was able to meet her.”
I look up at his comment and I wish the same damn thing. “I wish you could too, dad.”
A smile placates across his face and he doesn’t say another word. He looks peaceful.
“What’s that noise?” I ask, looking around the room, only to catch sight of his heartrate monitor. My heart feels like it is going to pound right out of my chest. I make no move to do anything. The red line in the center of the screen is as straight as can be. I sigh. He’s gone.
My dad.
My hero.
He’s gone.
Chapter 5
Alli
I wake up feeling cold. I roll over to see Brea and Michael chatting on the other side of the room.
“Hey, sleepy head,” Brea says. “Did we wake you?”
“No. No, just looking forward to get out of this airport,” I say as my eyes wander around the room. Where is Chris? “Umm, have you guys seen Chris?”
Michael turns his gaze to Brea, and they both shake their heads. “No, we haven’t seen him.”
The door creaks open and my heart starts to refill again at the idea of seeing Chris. But it’s not him.
It’s a flight attendant. “You three will be happy to hear we have a flight heading to San Diego in just thirty minutes.”
The three of us? “I think you’re mistaken. There should be four of us.”
She looks down at her paper, then her head pops back up again and she says, “No, just the three of you. Michael Bridges, Brea Sanders, and Alli Bane. That’s you three, right?” She looks back down at her paper and nods her head.
“What about Chris?” I ask.
She scrunches her eyebrows together, then continues as if a lightbulb just went off in her head. “Oh, you mean that cute guy that was with you guys last night? Well, he actually caught a flight out earlier this morning. Not San Diego, though. Somewhere else. I’m not allowed to say though. You know, confidentiality and all.” She tilts her head and twirls her long curls through her shit-brown hair.
Story of my life. They always leave.
“Oh, silly me,” she says, and my heart skips a beat.
Was she wrong?
“I forgot I have some orange juice and muffins for the three of you.” She turns around and returns with a tray of juice and muffins, then passes them out to each of us. I’m in no mood to eat or drink anything, unless there is alcohol in the juice. I don’t normally drink a lot, but given recent events, I just want something to drown out the emptiness my heart is feeling. I know I only met him less than twenty hours ago, but I swear we had some sort of connection. Even if he did fly somewhere else, why wouldn’t he wake me to say goodbye?
I open my orange juice and take a little drink, before setting it back down next to my sweatshirt.
“I guess we should get moving, before we miss our flight,” Michael says.
I don’t answer. I reach for my sweatshirt, but accidentally spill my orange juice all over it. “Shit.”
“Oh no.” Brea walks over and tries to help me, but it’s no use. Too much spilled on it, and I’ll be damned if I am going to carry it on an airplane soaking wet and sticky.
“It’s okay. It’s old anyway. I’m just gonna toss it.” I pinch the corner of it and pick it up, trying not to drip juice. I throw it in the trash can in the snack room, and the three of us head out to our gate.
The flight was lonely, but I made it. I stand by the curb outside of the San Diego airport, Lindbergh Field, waiting for my best friend, Chelsea. I love her to death, but she is always late. As I stand here, my mind wanders back to Chris. I still can’t believe he didn’t wake me. I wasn’t looking for a guy, but I’m not opposed to one if he happens to cross my path. Maybe I should just swear off men all together. What a jerk. Stupid wishbone giving me false hope.
I hear a horn honk and it brings me back to reality. I see Chelsea’s car cut off another vehicle as she swings it around to stop right in front of me. She hops out of her little car, then turns around and gives the finger to the guy she just cut off. “Screw you, I’m here to pick up my best girl!”
I shake my head at her craziness, and the guy just zooms past us. It’s just like her to be blunt. She holds nothing back, and I love her for it. She’s the one that always talks her way out of anything, too. I swear she could sell ice to an Eskimo.
Chelsea instantly wraps her arms around me, and I sink right up against her. “I missed you so much.” She pulls back and holds me at arm’s length. “Are you tired? I’m sure you’re tired. Those damn airports never get it right. Did I ever tell you about the time they lost my luggage? I swear, if that baggage claim guy wasn’t so damn hot I would have reached over that count
er and strangled that ass. Instead, later that night, he showed me it.”
“Chelsea!” Christ, there are little children around. Like I said, no filter.
“Well, I’m just sayin’.”
I shake my head at her brazen attitude. “Can we just get out of here? Then you can tell me all about his ass.”
“My pleasure.” Chelsea takes my large bag and throws it in the trunk of her car, then she sprints to the driver’s side.
I hop in the passenger seat, lean my head on the headrest, and close my eyes.
“So, anyway, later that night, we went back to my place . . .”
I turn to look at Chelsea in complete confusion. “Who?”
“The baggage claim guy!”
“Oh.” I resume my relaxed-state and listen to Chelsea’s story.
I’m not paying much attention, when she chimes in, “I’m sorry. I’m sure your tired. Let’s go back to my place and you can rest before we head out tonight.”
“Tonight? Where are we going? I just got here.” I’m not really up to going anywhere. I am just so emotionally drained, and there is nothing I want more than to just crawl under some covers and close my eyes for like a three days.
“Oh no you don’t.” Her voice is raised several decibels. “We’re taking you out!”
“We? Come on, Chels. Please tell me you are not setting me up.” I will kick her if she is.
“No, it’s just Jessica. You remember her, right? Besides, meeting a new guy wouldn’t be a bad idea, anyway.”
“Yes, I can deal with Jessica. It’s fine. Just don’t get any ideas about sending any stupid guys my way. I am swearing them off.”
“You need to forget about Jack. He’s a dipshit. But, then again, you knew that.” She is seriously not going there.
“Don’t get me started. I didn’t come here to have you say ‘I told you so.’”
Chelsea pats my leg as we pull into a parking space at her apartment complex. “I’m sorry.” She exhales a breath of air. I’m sure it is taking everything in her to hold back exactly how she feels. “You’re right. This is a new start for you, and me. I’ll shut my mouth going forward.”
I glare at her, expressing my distrust in her holding her tongue.
“What? I will. I promise.” Chelsea holds her hand up to her mouth, pinches her thumb and forefinger together, and acts as if she is pulling a zipper across her lips and throwing away the key.
I step out of the car and take in my surrounding. “Hey, this isn’t the same apartment.”
“Nope. I moved here last month. My other place was just so small. Besides, I knew you’d come to your senses sooner or later,” she says, and I throw her a death glare. She just cannot keep her mouth shut when it comes to my shitty relationship with Jack. “Oops, sorry.” She holds her hands up in defeat. “Me not speaking my mind is all new to me. You have to give me some leeway.”
I can’t stay mad at my best friend. Especially when she’s right. “Come on, show me my room. Or couch. Whatever you got for me.” I know crashing with Chelsea wasn’t planned, so I’ll take anything I can get at the moment.
“Are you kidding me? Sweetie, you have your own room,” she declares.
“Seriously? You are too good to me, babe.” Just another reason why I love her. Always there for me.
It’s been two weeks since I arrived in San Diego. Chelsea took the first few days off work to hang out with me, but to be honest I wish she wouldn’t have. I stayed in bed for the first two days, aside from going out with her and Jessica on my first night in town.
Now I’m lonely. Thank God for my best friend, though. If it weren’t for her, I’m sure I’d still be in bed. Her constant hounding about getting my ass up finally sank in. Thinking about Jack, for some reason, wasn’t as bad as thinking about Chris. I can’t seem to get him out of my mind. Maybe it’s because I knew what Jack was capable of. All of his cheating finally wore me down. With Chris . . . he just caught me off guard. At first, he got on my nerves, but I think only because there was something that attracted me to him. And I definitely wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be meeting someone else yet. Christ, I literally just walked out of Jack’s front door and practically ran into Chris on my way out. Well, not physically, but it was all in the same day. Then he just somehow charmed his way into my head. I still can’t believe I jumped on his lap and kissed him. I told Chelsea about him, and she was pissed. Not because I jumped his bones, but because I didn’t follow through with the act. Because that is what I told her. I didn’t actually confess to having sex with Chris. I will, it’s just that I need time. I still need to process everything that I did. It’s not like me to sleep with a guy without actually knowing him. Chelsea has no problem finding men, and men certainly have no problem finding her. As a matter of fact, she keeps them just far enough away from anything serious because . . . well, I’m not sure why, actually. I’ve never asked her, but I’ve witnessed guys literally trip over themselves trying to get her attention. She just doesn’t let things get farther than her invisible wall she keeps up.
I hear keys jingling at the door and I quickly leap off the couch to open it. I know it’s Chelsea. She always comes home from work at the same time.
“Hey, you’re up!” Her look of surprise makes me smile.
“Yep. You finally wore me down. I’m ready to move on.”
“Wait. Wait. You’re not moving out on me, are you?” Worry stretches across her pretty features.
“No, silly. I’m just ready to take on the world,” I declare.
“Wahoo! I’m so glad, because we are going out tonight.”
“Hey, baby steps. Okay?”
“I know, I know. It’s just that my work has this thing tonight, and you are going with me.”
“What kind of thing?” Wariness is clearly written all over my face.
“My boss rents out this room every year. I think they call it a Box.”
“A Box?”
“Yeah, like this big room at the baseball game. They’re really good seats. You can see the whole field, and the best part is that you don’t need to fight to use those disgusting bathrooms. It has a private one just for the people in the Box.”
“Wow, that sounds like fun. I’m totally up for going to watch a baseball game. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Besides, Brian couldn’t make it so you can have his ticket.”
My mouth drops open. “Seriously, I wasn’t on top of your list of people to invite?” I know I’ve been a downer lately, but still.
“Ha! You should see your face. I’m kidding. Of course you are on the top of my list. Shit, you’re the only one on my list.”
I relax my shoulders at her admission. “Thanks, babe. You really do treat me so well. I don’t deserve your friendship.”
“Oh, don’t you dare. Don’t you crawl back into that funk. I am nothing without you.” Chelsea pulls me into a tight hug, making me wince just a little.
“Hey!” I scream as she starts tickling my arm pits. “Fine,” I manage through fits of laughter, while trying to pull away. I am so ticklish.
“I love you, you know.” Her serious face makes me feel on top of the world again.
“I love you, too. Now tell me, when do we have to leave?”
Chelsea looks at the clock on the DVD player and says, “Twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes? Shit, Chels! That doesn’t give me much time to get ready. Luckily, I showered already.”
“No worries. Just throw on some jeans and a Sun Devils shirt,” she says.
My brows pull in together. “I don’t have a Sun Devils shirt.”
“You do know.” She pulls a blue jersey out of a bag and holds it up to me. It says McCall on the back in thick white lettering.
“McCall?” I ask, because I’m not familiar with the players.
“Yep, he’s hot, too,” she exclaims. “He’s their pitcher.”
“Oh, okay.” I take the jersey from her and retreat to my bedroom to change
clothes.
I am just finishing brushing my teeth and hair when Chelsea appears in the mirror. I turn around and see her wearing jeans and a jersey.
“Who is on the back of your jersey?” I ask out of curiosity.
“Huntington, and hopefully I’ll be on his back later on tonight.”
“Chelsea!”
“Well, sometimes we get to meet the players, and he’s another hot one. Just you wait.” Chelsea is all of a sudden quiet, and it’s clear she’s daydreaming. It doesn’t take long before she snaps out of it and belts out those two players’ names again. “Derek Huntington and Shane McCall. Only a couple of the hottest fucking players in MLB,” She exclaims.
I shake my head at her comment.
I’ve got a death-grip on Chelsea’s hand as she leads the way through the sea of people in the stadium. I don’t want to get lost. “Almost there,” she yells back at me.
Suddenly, we enter through double doors and the loud chatter of fans ceases to exist. It’s quiet. I loosen my grip, and Chelsea reaches up and drapes her arm around my shoulder. “This is how the rich people do things. We are living it up tonight, babe.”
“Wow, it’s so . . . so not the same on the other side of that door we just walked through,” I say as I take a look around. It’s like a different world the second you take one step through those double doors.
Chelsea starts walking again, and I slowly trail behind her. There are pictures and bio’s of all the past and present players. I start reading a couple of them, but Chelsea pulls my arm before I have a chance to finish reading. “Come on. I want introduce you to somebody.”
Oh no. What has she got up her sleeve? But then we stroll up to this older gentleman.
“Bob, I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Alli.”
Bob stretches his arm out for me to shake.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says.
I look to Chelsea for help. She never mentioned Bob to me.
“Alli, Bob is the owner of the Box we are about to watch the baseball game from.”