by K. Bromberg
I put my arm around her waist and pull her into me. She’s going to need this in the months to come. Something to comfort and hold. To snuggle with as she watches her dad slowly slip away. I plant a kiss on the tip of her nose.
“She’s perfect,” I say, knowing I’ll never be able to resist giving Scout what she wants. “What’s her name?”
“Daisy.”
“Daisy?” I laugh. “She does not look like a Daisy.”
“Everyone deserves some pretty in their life regardless of the scars they bear.”
Damn woman.
“Daisy it is, then.”
She yelps and jumps into my arms. Legs around my waist. Kiss on my lips. God, this woman is going to be my welcome undoing.
The buzzer sounds and we both groan. “Just ignore it,” I say then begin to kiss her again.
“What if it’s important? What if it’s Finn with contracts to look over so you can make your final decision?”
“He would’ve called.” I go back in for another kiss, but she drops her legs from my hips and steps back despite my good arm trying to hold her near.
“You don’t answer it, we don’t have sex. You answer it, we have sex.” My arms drop. “Good sex. Hot-for-the-teacher sex.” Now, she’s talking. “Baseball-cage-net sex.” Definitely fucking talking. “Or maybe we invent an all new kind of sex.”
“Like what kind?” I say as I take a step toward the elevator.
“Hmm. I could be your bat girl and make sure I handle your balls just right.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “Oh, Kitty . . .” My words fade off as does her laughter when the door slides open and I see my dad standing there.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
“Cal,” Scout says with a nod, acknowledging him. I’m not quite sure how I feel seeing him here. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
I hear her feet pad down the hallway and hate that I don’t know what to do or say or even how to act. The hurt comes back instantly. The confusion not far behind it. The feeling of being sacrificed to save him.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
“Sure.” I step back but don’t invite him farther into my home. We stand and stare at each other. He looks tired. Old.
“I’ve come here almost every day for the past two weeks. I’ve walked into the lobby, then I’d second-guess myself—that you might want to see me and talk about things—and then I’d leave. Today, I told myself I was to talk to you whether you wanted to see me or not.”
“You’re seeing me now. You satisfied?”
His face falls at the disinterest in my voice. And I hate that I care. Other than talking briefly about it with Scout, I’ve successfully pushed this out of my mind for the better part of two weeks. I’ve tried to anyway, but hell if my daily runs through the city haven’t turned into all-out sprints to ease it eating away at my insides.
“Are you going to the victory parade today?” he asks. The nervous shifting of his feet tells me he’s stalling, needing something simple to talk about before diving into the deep shit.
“Yep. Scout’s a part of the team so she’ll be there. I’ll get to watch from the sidelines.” Yeah. That’s a dig meant for you. A little reminder why I’m on the sidelines.
“I never knew about your reading problem, East. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shouldn’t have had to. “Because you weren’t around much when I needed it to matter.”
He nods, accepting my comment. “I deserve that. I could give you more explanations to why and that your well-being was my greatest concern, but it doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. I’m your dad, and I should have known. I should have been there for you. I’m sorry, son.”
All I do is stare at him and hate that my throat feels like it’s closing up. Words I’ve never thought I’d hear him say, he just said.
“How did you . . . high school, college–you know what, it doesn’t matter why or how,” he says. “All that matters is that you did. I’m proud of you for working on it, trying to fix it, but I’m also proud of you for admitting it. People are still talking about it. Boseman has proposed that I spearhead some community outreach projects between the Aces and your charity to—”
“Enough, Dad. Enough.” Enough with the small talk. Enough with the I’m proud of you. Doesn’t he get I used to crave his approval and now I could give two shits what he thinks of me?
I should invite him in, offer him a seat, but I can’t. Not yet. So we stand like strangers, face to face, a few feet apart, in the entrance of my home.
“And you did great in the booth. Rumor has it they might offer you a guest spot next season.”
“Not a guest spot.”
“No?”
“No. A permanent place with their on-air team.” I wait for his reaction and hate that a small part of me hopes to see that he’s proud of me. Still. The other part of me watches to see him connect the dots.
“So the rumors are true then?” He looks surprised.
“I haven’t decided anything yet.”
“Well, it’s always good to have options. Good for you. You’ll do great at whatever it is you de—”
“This isn’t what you came here to talk about is it, Dad?”
“No.” He looks down for a beat and takes a big breath before looking back up. “I can’t change the past, son. I can’t undo the things I’ve done, and I don’t ever expect you to forgive me for them, but I’m hoping in time, maybe we can be okay again.”
There are tears in his eyes and I can’t remember ever seeing him cry. It makes me feel like a little kid, flailing around in an adult world when I have no clue what to do there. When I don’t speak, he continues.
“I went to visit your mother the other day.”
“What? Why?” Fuck. Will she drown herself in alcohol now that the love of her life resurfaced just to end up leaving again?
“I felt I owed it to her to tell her face to face. About Santiago finding me. About all the hurt it’s caused you. To apologize again to her.” He looks out the window and then back to me. “She’s still beautiful.”
“She always has been.” My voice is unforgiving because even though I can forgive him for his reasons why he left her, I can’t forgive him for leaving me. Old wounds are hard to heal once they’ve been busted open.
He looks over his shoulder, back to where Scout went. She’s not going to save you.
“I don’t know how to fix this, East. Tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it,” he pleads, desperation owning his voice.
I’ve thought about what to say to him while on my runs. How I’d scream and yell and blame him for everything, but seeing him here, like this, the fire has burned out.
“The things you told me, about Mom being sick back then, I never knew. And knowing that, I still blame you, Dad, but at the same time I can’t blame you. I know what it’s like to love her but to be disappointed that she loves alcohol more. It’s damn lonely at times. I don’t know how to feel and that’s the hardest part.”
“I understand.”
“No, actually you don’t. I didn’t have an out like you did. I was left behind to deal with it all while you continued being you. And now . . . now I’m left to deal with a whole different kind of fallout that again I have no control over and yet completely controls my life. And once again, you will continue being you.”
“There’s nothing more I can say than I’m sorry. I screwed up.”
“Yes. You did. This can’t be fixed with an apology. Don’t you see that, yet? He ruined my career, Dad.” My voice escalates in pitch with each word. “He ripped my shoulder apart because he hated me for something I had nothing to do with. Because we share the same blood. He didn’t get a raw deal because of me. He’s a piece of shit as far as I’m concerned, yet for the life of me I still can’t fathom why you gave him the opportunity to do more damage to me. You opened the door. You saw firsthand the damage he caused and yet you let him in. And . . . want to know him. This son g
ot screwed in the deal. Not sure how if you love me, you can be okay with him, knowing what he did. Talk about twisting the knife in my back. So have a relationship with him if you must to ease your guilt and curiosity. Find out if there is anything redeeming in him. Just never fucking talk to me or Scout about him.”
His expression is stoic but his eyes reflect a resigned devastation.
“As for you and me, it’s going to take time. So yeah . . .” I move around the space to work out the anger inside me. “I need time.”
“Okay.” He nods again, compliant when he’s never been that before in his life. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but I love you, son.”
Without another word, my dad walks to the elevator and steps inside. When the door shuts, it takes everything I have to not go after him as the familiar feelings return. Love and loathing. Side by side.
I love you too, Dad, but right now, it feels like hate.
Love and loathing.
Now just on a whole different scale.
“Look at her. She fits in perfectly.” I stare at Daisy sitting between us on Easton’s truck’s seat; the windows are down, and what’s left of her scarred ears are flapping in the wind.
“After the life she’s had, I’m sure a soft seat under her tail, the treats you’re feeding her nonstop, and your hand constantly on her is like hitting the lottery.”
“True. I thought she might be sad leaving Pet Haven but she’s doing great.”
“It’s only been thirty minutes.” He laughs but runs a hand over her back and rests it atop mine already there. “It’s not that far out of the way, I think we should stop by your dad’s and let her run around a bit.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“What are you two—three doing here?” Sally laughs as she steps out of the house and closes the door behind her before squatting down to give Daisy—who is sitting so patiently—some love. “Who’s this?”
“This is Daisy. We just adopted her and were on the way home. Easton suggested we stop by so I could see Dad and let her run around for a while before heading back to the city.”
“I love her,” Sally says. “She looks like she’s had a hard life. I’m sure she’ll eat up all the attention.”
“She already is.” Easton nudges me. “Scout has already given her a box of milk bones.”
“So what?” I laugh. “She deserves them for surviving everything she’s been through.” I look over her shoulder to the door and then back to Sally. “Can we see him?”
“He’s sleeping right now.” She twists her lips as she puts her hands on her hips. “Have you guys had lunch yet? Let me fix you some lunch, and you can go eat in the field. I’m sure he’ll be up by the time you’re done.”
“Sally, that’s so generous but we couldn’t impose on you.”
“Nonsense. Give me a few minutes, I’ll bring it out.”
Easton tucks a flower behind my ear to add to the dozen others he’s been annoyingly sticking in my hair. “I think Sally knows how to spoil you,” he says.
“I think so.” I giggle as I look at the picnic basket she handed us full of more food than we’ll ever eat. “She’s so used to feeding my dad who eats nothing nowadays that she’s grateful for a big, strapping man to feed.”
“Big, strapping man?” he asks as he leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“Yeah, I’m not sure when he’s going to arrive but we can sit here for a while and wait for him. I’m sure Daisy won’t mind.”
And before I can finish the last words, Easton yanks me toward him so I sit between his legs, his arms wrapped around my torso holding me against him.
“We’ll wait for him?” he growls playfully.
“Yep.” I try to wiggle away.
“You’ve got all the man you need right here.”
“Oh please.” I roll my eyes.
“Are you disagreeing?”
I stop struggling. “No. I’ve got all I need right here.”
His arms holding still soften, and he hugs me affectionately. “It’s beautiful here,” he murmurs. “It’s very romance-novel worthy.”
“Romance-novel worthy?” I roll my eyes and shake my head.
“Can’t blame a man for trying.” He laughs. “Seriously though, I can see why you like it so much.”
“It’s one of my most favorite spots in the whole world. I can still see Ford running over there thinking he could be a human scarecrow but failing miserably since he couldn’t stand still for more than a minute. Or my dad teaching me how to hit a baseball right over there.” I point to our left where Daisy is chasing a butterfly that seems to be toying with her. “So many memories here. So much good happened here.”
“I love that you have that.”
“Me too.”
The long grass rustles as the breeze blows across the field like the memories of happiness that continue to ghost through my mind.
And then I remember something.
“Are you ever going to tell me what my Dad said to you on the porch when we left a while back?”
“Nosy. Nosy. Can’t two guys keep a secret?” he teases as he turns me so he can see my face.
“No. Not from me.”
“We’ll see about that,” he murmurs as I swat at him. He catches my hand and in an unexpected move, presses a kiss to the middle of my palm. When he looks back at me, there’s an intensity in his eyes that makes the fun words on my lips die.
“Your dad told me to take care of his little girl. To let her be stubborn but know how to bend her will. To let her be girly but make sure she sticks her toes in the mud every once in a while. To let her run through a field with flowers in her hair with as much passion as she applies to healing her patients. And most important, to let her love with a clear mind and a full heart.”
I’m a sobbing mess. I can’t even hiccup out a sound as Easton leans forward and kisses the tears from my cheeks while every emotion in me is a mess of contradictions.
“I promised him I would, Scout. I want all of those things for you. The flowers in your hair, the mud on your toes, the stubbornness that puts me in my place, the sweet, the sexy, and everything in between. The first time we went to my place, you stuck a bookmark in my heart and then you ran away. And I think it’s the perfect time to move to the next chapter and start a life together. I love you, Scout Dalton. I love the parts of you no one else knew how to love just as you do me. So there’s this question I want to ask.”
My heart is pounding and tears are falling and hands are shaking but I can hear his words. I can see the ring box he opens up with a simple diamond band that is perfectly me.
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” I whisper as I bring my hands to his cheeks and press my lips to his over and over between saying yes.
He wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly before whooping and yelling, “She said yes!”
I’m startled by the sound of cheers from the house. I look at Easton and then over to where Dad and Sally are eagerly staring our way from the patio.
“I wasn’t sure he was going to make it to the wedding, so I wanted him to be here for the second best thing, the proposal. It was important for him to have peace of mind knowing I was going to take care of you when he couldn’t.”
And then I get it.
He planned this.
My dad wasn’t asleep.
The picnic basket was ready and waiting.
I look at him as the tears fall again.
“Thank you.” He has no idea how much this simple gesture means to me. I don’t think he ever will.
But I’m up and running toward the house.
Daisy barking her way behind me.
Through the field of grass.
With a full heart.
And flowers in my hair.
To hug my dad.
5 years later
“Throwing out the first pitch tonight, we have one of our hometown favorites, Easton Wylder.”
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I watch from the on-deck circle as Easton walks toward the pitcher’s mound with Ford and Fenway in each of his arms. The sold-out crowd whistles and cheers as he crosses the infield, his smile a reflection of the love being showered on him.
The love he deserves and then some.
When he reaches the mound, he squats and sets down Ford with his miniature Aces uniform on and then Fenway with her Aces cheerleading outfit. He kisses both of them on the tops of their heads as he picks up the ball.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, let’s see if Easton still has the magic touch.”
When he throws it with perfect aim to the catcher, the crowd goes wild and it makes me wonder if this is bittersweet for him.
“And he does. That was a strike. But oh, hold on. It looks like little Ford wants to throw out a pitch too.”
Not really understanding what’s going on, and since he’s used to being the one Daddy plays catch with, Ford runs toward the catcher to get the ball. The catcher, Wingar, hands the ball to Ford who then throws it to Easton, the ball bouncing a few times before he picks it up.
“And that was a great throw by the little man. And oh”—the announcer laughs along with the crowd—“here comes Fenway to get her turn and by the looks of her hands on her hips, she’s not going anywhere until she gets it.”
Wingar squats back down behind the plate as Easton walks Fenny closer. She throws the ball and even though it stops well before home plate, she throws her arms up in the air in victory before waving them animatedly in excitement at all the people watching her.
“Great job, Wylders. It looks like there may be another future hall of famer—or two—in the family.”
Easton starts to head back toward me, Fenny in one hand and Ford running my way already. My dad would have loved to see this. His two grandchildren—one named after his son and the other named after his favorite ballpark—taking charge in the infield of the Aces’ stadium.
Choking back the tears, I think about how proud he would be. I look toward the dugout and imagine him sitting there, a huge grin on his face, and flashing the thumbs-up sign like he used to when I was a little girl.