by Liz Talley
“Good night, Rhett.”
He turned but didn’t meet her gaze. “Thanks for the peas.”
“Always good for it,” she said, wishing the moment had not been ruined.
Rhett passed through the door into the darkness, lurching toward his rental. He didn’t turn around or say good night. So she shut the door, slid the chain in place, and went back to her wine, thoughts of the past and present tangling into a dry knot of regret.
CHAPTER EIGHT
November, present day
Hunt sat in the stands, watching his former pitching coach show David exercises he could do to strengthen his legs. They were the same exercises Hunt had done years before. Don was old school, but he knew pitching. Many people thought a pitcher’s skill was in his arm. That was important, but the legs and full-body motion were what gave a pitcher power. Teaching David exercises to strengthen his thighs and butt would take his already natural delivery to new heights. Hunt knew his son had the potential to be good, but the kid was behind. Pitchers started young these days, maybe too young. But if Don could work with David enough, the kid could potentially make the JV team as a freshman. Deal was, unlike Hunt, his son was a left-hander. That bode well for being useful to a team, so Hunt liked David’s chances.
Occasionally, David would look up and catch his eye. The kid’s smile was so damned hopeful, it did weird things to Hunt’s gut.
Or maybe his heart.
It was harsh to even admit he hadn’t automatically fallen in love with his son, but at least he was truthful. Hunter McCroy was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a bullshitter and had never been one. He shot straight. Or at least that’s what he told himself.
“Hey,” Summer said, sliding onto the bench beside him, keeping her distance like she always did. She treated him like he had a stomach virus she didn’t want to contract.
“Hey,” Hunt returned, not taking his eyes off David. Summer made him uncomfortable, mostly because their relationship was tenuous at best. She’d not forgiven him for knocking her up and not taking interest in the kid during his early years. Of course, it wasn’t his fault she’d gotten pregnant. She’d claimed to be on birth control. He didn’t know why he had to bear all the blame for the wedge that sat between them. “I could have brought him home. No need for you to pick him up.”
Summer shrugged. “I was in town. I had a late lesson at the school, so it seemed needless for you to run him all the way out to our place. How’s he doing?”
“Good. He’s a natural.”
“Well, that makes sense,” she said, her lips twitching into an almost smile. “He was excited this morning. I don’t think I realized how much he missed playing sports. Moving here midsemester last year was tough. All the travel-ball teams were full, and he didn’t know anyone to get on a Little League team.”
“I should have been better about procuring that for him.” Hunt felt guilt tug at him. Last October, when Summer called him to tell him she and David were moving back, he’d been pleased . . . but then anxiety crept in. He’d spent four years wishing David were closer, but when faced with his kid living in Moonlight and having the responsibility of being a father day in and day out, he’d grown nervous. What if he sucked at being a dad? He knew he probably would. A guy who didn’t feel anything for the picture of the toddler in his locker had to have something wrong with him. Still, he was trying and doing okay. David seemed to like spending time with him, and Hunt could honestly say he looked forward to their time together.
“It’s not your fault. This past year has been a big adjustment for us all,” Summer said, her eyes following David as he hustled toward the visiting dugout. The kid ran with a loping, graceful stride. He looked like a baseball player, even flashing a thumbs-up at his mother when he caught her watching. Summer’s smile was immediate.
At that moment it struck Hunt how attractive Summer was. Back in high school, she’d been pleasant to look at, nothing spectacular. But then five years ago, he’d seen her again. She’d turned into a confident, stunning woman. When she’d moved back to Moonlight, he’d tested the waters with her, thinking maybe the universe had known all those years ago who he was supposed to be with. They could be a normal family and buy into all the bullshit everyone constantly sold—picket fence, Christmas cards, vacations in Disney World. But Summer had rebuffed any attempt at his getting to know her better.
He remembered saying something casual. “Want to have dinner . . . uh, me, you, and Dave?”
She’d looked at him like he’d served a cockroach in her soup. “No. The time you have is for you and David. I’m not part of that.”
“Come on, Summer. I’m not asking to hook up. Just have dinner. Try to be friends.”
“After what your father did to my parents? After ignoring me and David for years? That’s a stretch. I’m good with you being in David’s life, Hunt. But not in mine.”
“My parents?” he’d repeated in disbelief. “They paid for everything.”
Her expression hardened like Alaska in winter. “Yeah, they did. Stellar people.”
Okay, so his parents’ attempt to throw money at the pregnancy had been a craptastic mistake, but Summer’s parents had put his father on the defense. Not a good place to relegate Mitchell McCroy. When someone pushed his father, he laid them out and then stepped on their throat. Not many had the nerve to go up against him. Summer’s parents had.
And they’d paid. Hunt wasn’t proud of what his parents had done, but he ignored the goings-on because the most important thing in his life back in his freshman year of college was earning a spot on the mound with the Gators. What had happened back in Moonlight with the Valentines—custody agreements and all that other bullshit—had been easy to ignore. He’d been freaking nineteen, so he’d done what his father told him to do. He signed on the dotted line and tried to live his life.
His decisions had been wrong, but he’d been a kid himself. Wasn’t like he had intentionally set out to hurt anyone. He’d been as lost as any kid who’d made a stupid mistake.
“You’re right. Things have been challenging, but I think this new chapter in all our lives is going all right,” Hunt said, refocusing on the present discussion about their son. Hey, Summer was actually holding a conversation with him. Sometimes she refused to talk about anything with him in a genial manner.
Summer nodded, sliding her gaze briefly his way. “I think so, too. David asked about spending Christmas Eve with you and your family. It surprised me that your parents wanted him to come to their family Christmas.”
“They’re trying, Summer.” He didn’t want to argue with her, but she made it damned hard.
“And you’re good with taking care of Christmas morning?”
“Yeah, I never got to do the Santa thing. I mean I know he’s too old, but it would still be cool. We’re all trying to set things right, Summer.” The words were thick on his tongue. He’d never addressed the fact that his father had essentially gotten her mother fired from her job all those years ago or that his family had implied Summer was a desperate girl looking for a cash settlement. Everyone in town had believed his parents. After all, no one would naysay the McCroys. Things had been bad between the Valentines and McCroys for years, but things were better now. Hunt was determined everyone would accept his son and forget about the past.
“Hmm,” Summer said, her voice doubtful. She still wouldn’t speak to his parents, but he gave her credit for never blackening their name in David’s presence.
“They are trying. They feel bad about everything that happened. They were hasty in their judgment and cut off their own noses to spite their faces. They admit it and want to make it right.”
“To you,” she said.
“Yeah, to me. To David.”
“But not to me.”
He had no words because her conclusion was true. Perhaps if Summer actually spoke to his parents or graced them with her presence, they would have the opportunity to repair the gaping maw between the two families. Hunt h
ad done what he could to repair his mistakes. He’d reached out to Summer about having more of a role in their son’s life, and she’d finally relented. He didn’t know what else he could do to make things better other than try to be a good dad to David.
“Don said David has really good mechanics. Did he have lessons in Nashville?” Change the subject. Don’t wade into murky, potentially soul-sucking waters.
Summer shook her head. “Actually, he never pitched. He played catcher and first base. I bought him a cheap catcher’s set, and he wore the mitt out.”
“Think he would rather catch?” Hunt didn’t want him to catch. He wanted him to pitch, like he had. Something about his son carrying on the McCroy pitching tradition pleased him, but then again, teams always needed good catchers. That was what had earned Rhett a place on the baseball team his sophomore year. Hunt and Rhett had gotten together and strategized how they could both make the varsity squad, and those two positions needed a steady supply of backups. Their hunch had paid off.
“I don’t think so. He seems to like pitching,” Summer said. “I think he wants to please you. Share that connection.”
Hunt couldn’t stop the smile that came at her words. “I can’t say it doesn’t make me happy watching him on the mound. I think he’ll be good, but I don’t want him to do something because of me.”
“I don’t think that’s the case, but we’ll see how it goes.”
“I heard Rhett’s in town. Shocked the hell out of me that he came here. Thought he hated Moonlight.”
“I don’t think he hates it, but, yeah, he surprised Pete . . . and me. He went to the cabin first to shower. Nearly scared me to death when I came in from the beach. Pete never told him I lived there.”
“Or Rhett never listened. I get the feeling he’s too busy for details out there in LA. Wonder why he’s here?” Hunt asked.
Summer’s face shuttered, and he remembered how much she’d always liked Rhett. Back during high school, it had been as obvious as the nose on her face. “I don’t know why he came to Moonlight.”
“Probably trying to escape all the rumors. Didn’t the network make him take a break after he had the meltdown? Man, he tore that actress a new one, huh? It was pretty funny.”
“Most people seemed to think so,” Summer said, sounding like she’d rather not talk about Rhett.
Which made Hunt want to talk about him, for some reason. “Rhett’s a little hypocritical, if you ask me. He chose to live out there and make his bread off celebrities. Come on, they’re all shallow. I think they fake being concerned with things like the environment or child abuse or other crap just so they look like they’re human.”
Summer whipped her head around. “That’s a bit jaded, even for you.”
Hunt didn’t like her having any insight into who he was. She hadn’t wanted to get to know him, so she didn’t get to judge him now. “What? It’s probably the truth. Besides, there’s no disputing Rhett makes his living off the drama and shallowness of that world.”
“Maybe he does, but Pete raised Rhett to be compassionate. Rhett has a moral compass. Maybe he came home so he could figure out what direction to head next.”
Hunt grunted. “Yeah, ’cause that works.”
He felt her perusal. “You aren’t happy in Moonlight?”
Pulling his gaze off the field, he zeroed in on the woman beside him. “Are you happy in Moonlight?”
She didn’t speak for a moment, making him wonder about her happiness. He hadn’t really thought about why she’d agreed to move back. He’d been preoccupied with the monumental task ahead—being a father. “As happy as I was in Nashville, I guess. My mother and sister are here. David’s happy here and that’s what’s important.”
“But you? Are you happy? You had a band in Nashville and a better job.”
“Sometimes we make decisions for the betterment of others, Hunt.” Her gaze met his and he saw conviction there. “David wanted a relationship with you, and I was unwilling to put my selfish goals before his. He’ll eventually go to college and claim his own life. I can wait for mine a few more years. The only bad thing about Moonlight is the memories. They hide around every corner and I can’t really escape them.”
She slid off the bleacher and picked up the keys sitting on the metal bleacher below her. “The sunshine was nice, but I need to make a few calls.”
Conversation over. But they’d actually had a fairly meaningful one, so that was another step in the right direction. He and Summer didn’t have to be friends, but if they could strike some semblance of accord, it would be better for David. Her coldness had a way of throwing a damp blanket on any kindling of something more than politeness between them. “I’ll be in touch about the frequency of the lessons. Still have to talk to Don and see what David needs. Don’t worry. I’ll foot the bill.”
Summer paused and then nodded. “That would be helpful. I’ve picked up a few more clients, but with the holidays coming up, I’ll need every penny.”
“I got it.”
“Tell David I’m waiting in the car. Have a good evening, Hunt.”
“You, too,” he said, watching her as she made her way back to the parking lot. She wore trim pants that clung to a nice ass, and a stretchy cotton shirt highlighted her toned shoulders. David said Summer ran and did yoga. The exercise had paid off. A stab of hunger hit him, but he dashed it away. Friendship. Aim for friendship, if that.
“Hey, Hunt, got a minute?” Don called, jogging toward him.
David stood in the dugout, packing up the old gym bag Hunt had found for him. He’d also given David his old glove, but the kid would need his own, eventually. Maybe they could drive to Charleston and visit a sporting goods store. Probably get a better deal online, but the idea of taking his kid to look for baseball gear was more attractive. Bonding time. They still needed lots of that.
“What do you think?” Hunt asked as Don crashed onto the metal bench Summer had abandoned minutes ago. “And don’t bullshit me.”
“I wouldn’t,” the man panted, out of breath from the jog. “He’s got plenty of potential. Need to correct a few bad habits and work on widening his stride, but he’s a natural. Like you were. He needs to do the strengthening exercises daily. But I can work with him twice a week. No more than that. Don’t want to wear his arm out.”
Hunt nodded, eyeing the boy who kept nervously looking over at them. “Sounds good.”
“I’ll text you my schedule,” Don said.
Hunt slid off the bleacher and motioned for David to join him. The kid shouldered the bag and headed toward him. Though it was cooler that afternoon, sweat plastered the kid’s dark hair to his forehead and neck. Hunt could never deny the kid was his. Didn’t need a paternity test, though his parents had insisted on one before they paid any money to Summer.
“Did I do okay?” David asked Hunt.
“You did great, bud. But I want to make sure you want to do pitching lessons. This isn’t about me. If you don’t want to pitch or even play baseball, it’s fine.”
“No, I want to . . . unless you don’t think I’ll be good enough.” Doubt shadowed David’s voice, doing something to Hunt. He didn’t want David to wonder.
But wasn’t that always what Hunt wanted to be? Good enough? His own father had been an All-American at Virginia Tech but had injured his throwing arm working on his family farm. That’s why Hunt had never had a summer job and had to sneak out to surf or skateboard. His father had wanted to protect Hunt’s arm. Mitchell had sat through countless practices watching Hunt, grading his technique and noting any laziness on the mound. Hunt had never felt good enough for his father, and he damned sure didn’t want David to worry about being good enough for him. “Baseball’s a sport, Dave. It’s played for fun. Sure, you have to put in work, but at the very heart, it’s a game. You’ll always be good enough to play a game.”
His words were a lie, but he sold it anyway. It wasn’t a game. It was life . . . or it had been for Hunt, until he didn’t cut it in th
e big leagues. But to the fourteen-year-old standing in front of him, baseball needed to be a game.
Conviction carved a place inside Hunt. He wasn’t going to do to David what his father had done to him. For his son, things would be different. Hunt hadn’t done much in life that he could feel proud of, but he would feel good about this decision. His son would know it was okay to mess up. Hunt would give him space to make mistakes, to learn from them and to hold on to the dreams he wanted . . . not the ones his father had for him.
“Thanks, Dad. I want to pitch. I like it and if I practice enough, I can be good at it. I think.”
“Absolutely,” Don said, slapping his hands together. “You’re Hunter McCroy’s boy and that says something. We’re going to have people talking about you just like they did him.”
Hunt felt that old pressure squeezing at him. “He’s not me, Don. No pressure, okay?”
Don’s face crinkled in thought. “But he could—”
“Your mom’s waiting in the car for you, David,” Hunt interrupted, shooting Don a silencing look. He slapped the kid on the back and jerked his head toward the parking lot.
“Okay. I’ll see you later, Dad.”
Hunt watched David walk toward Summer’s car and turned to Don. “Look, Don. I want you to work with him and give him confidence, but he’s not me and I’m not my father. End of story.”
And Hunt believed those words.
CHAPTER NINE
April 2003
Summer Valentine had never had the occasion to visit Graysen Hadley’s house. Why would she? The blonde cheerleader had her own friends who complemented her like good accessories should. Or maybe that observation was Summer’s smart-girl cattiness coming out to swat at the perfection that was Graysen. Still, on that Tuesday afternoon before junior-senior prom, Summer wished she’d never given in to the crazy makeover. Because everything felt too much . . . and was way outside her comfort zone.
Graysen had insisted Summer come over that afternoon because it was the absolute only time she could do it. Her schedule was so slammed. The pageant queen’s words, not Summer’s.