Third Base (The Boys of Summer #1)

by Heidi McLaughlin

  “That’s Sarah, my ex. You know about her because I told you everything about our relationship. When you didn’t show up in Cincinnati my mom knew something was up and called her. She was sitting on my steps when I came back from your apartment.”

  “Oh yes, she’s your road trip hook-up.”

  “That’s not fair, Daisy. I know you’re hurting right now, but Sarah isn’t to blame and neither am I.”

  “You went to her apartment in Seattle?” Her broken voice tears me up on the inside. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and turn my head so I’m looking at her.

  “I don’t know why you’re bringing this up now, but yes, I did. You and I had stopped talking. I was pissed.”

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  I shake my head. “No, but we did some other stuff until I said your name and she walked out on me. I spent the rest of the night telling my ex that I was in love with this beautiful, smart and crazy girl with an adorable accent who knew how to put me in my place.”

  A sob overtakes her body. I try to reach for her but she shies away. Instead I pull her hand into mine and sit back. This should’ve been my spot from the get-go, but she refuses to allow me back in.

  “Daisy, I realize this may not be the best time, but I need to say this to you. I want to figure things out between us because I’m in love with you. If you don’t love me, let me know, but if you do and want us to have a future, you know where to find me.”

  I stand up and kiss her on her forehead, lingering there as long as possible before I leave her to say a private goodbye to her grandfather.

  EDavenport @TheRealEthanD – 1 hour

  @BoReRenBlog I miss you

  It’s been a month since I saw Daisy and I have a feeling that was my last time. Each home game, I walk out of the dugout looking for her, only to find her seats empty. They remain vacant during the game, diminishing any hope I have of ever seeing her again.

  When I left her at the cemetery, I thought for sure she’d call or show up. I even left my door unlocked a few times hoping I’d come home from a road trip to find her living there. It’s been a letdown each and every time. I’ve tried calling her. For a while her phone went to voicemail after four or five rings until one day the call didn’t even go through. I don’t know if she changed her number because she’s sick of me calling or what.

  The only thing that hasn’t changed is her blog. It’s still up and running, reminding us of just how poorly we’re doing this year. I’ve kept her secret from the team. I figured if she wants to tell everyone that she’s the BoRe Blogger, she can do that when she’s ready. It’s not my news to share.

  We’re in the middle of a long home stand, ten games until we hit the road again. The Cleveland Indians are in town and after my last at bat, we’re leading three to nothing. I thought that after the funeral my batting average would continue to suffer, but it hasn’t. I’m currently batting .320, the highest in the American League, but not in the Majors. A couple of guys in the National League are still kicking my ass. Also kicking my ass is my nervous tick. It’s back with a vengeance since Daisy and I broke up. Who knew she was the cure and now that she’s gone, it’s something I have to continue to live with?

  One thing I have learned from Daisy is that she was accurate in her assumptions. I spent hours pouring over her blog, reading the shit that she was writing only to find out most of it is true. Cooper Bailey is coming to Boston, and soon. No one knows what his position will be, as there’s still no word on what’s going on with Bainbridge.

  Jasper Jacobson is currently up to bat. The rumors about him not being happy in Boston are true, which makes things a bit awkward in the clubhouse. He wants a trade, but Stone hasn’t done anything about it yet. There’s speculation that Jacobson might be involved with Bainbridge’s wife, but no one’s talking.

  Jacobson is facing a full count and the fans are rallying behind him. We’re all standing in support. We need a win; after our last two games being losses, we need some happy. He swings and connects with the ball, sending the right fielder to the warning track. We lean back and pray as the right fielder jumps, missing the ball by an inch. We run out and meet him at home plate, slapping him on the back and trying to show him that we’re still his team despite everything going on with his personal life.

  With no outs, all we have to do is add more runs. Bryce Mackenzie is up next with Travis Kidd on deck.

  “Someone’s dogging ya,” Kidd says as he nods behind me. I can hear my name being called, but I don’t want to look because he’s likely up to something. The fact that my name is being called means nothing, since the kids are always trying to get us to sign things, give them a bat during the game or even look at them. It was a thrill when it happened to me so I know what it’s like to get attention from your favorite player, let alone any player.

  “Just a fan, I’m assuming,” I say, shrugging him off and focusing on Mackenzie’s at bat.

  He shakes his head and starts laughing. “A super fan,” he says, nodding behind me again. “You might want to turn around.”

  “You might want to pay attention to the game. Mackenzie could hit a foul ball and smack you in the tallywacker.”

  “Jesus Davenport, just turn the hell around.”

  I roll my eyes and finally give in, but only halfheartedly. I look over my left shoulder and see no one calling me and over my right to find the same thing.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Kidd swings the bat a few times before he stops because Mackenzie has a hit and is now on first base. “Turn all the way around, Davenport. Stop being a bitch.”

  I do as he says and I’m met with a pair of green eyes that I have burnt into my memory. She’s sitting behind our dugout in the center seat. She stands and points to her shirt. The front of it says, “I’m sorry”. I can’t help the stupid ass grin that is plastered all over my face.

  I lean forward, resting my hands on the edge of the dugout. “Are you busy after the game?”

  “No,” Daisy says with a smile.

  “You are now,” I say, not caring that I’m probably jumping the gun and assuming she wants to see me. It’s not a guess; I know she does. “Stay right there and I’ll come get you when the game is over.”

  Before I know it, we’re on the Jumbo Tron with hearts all around our picture. She covers her face and I turn back to the game, only to turn around and wave my hat at the section she’s in. They roar with cheers and start chanting my name.

  We win, nine to one. I had a few more base hits and some RBI’s to add to our run count. Every Renegade player had at least one base hit. It’s odd when that happens, but we take it and run with it when it does. As soon as I enter the clubhouse the reporters are there. They call my name and instead of going to them, they come over to me and shove their microphones into my face as soon as I sit down.

  “Ethan, you made a pretty big display of affection today during the game. Do you care to tell us about your girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I say, running my hand through my hair. “I’ve been in love with her for as long as I can remember. She means everything to me.” Suddenly their microphones are even more in my face.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Baseball!”

  I wish I had a camera at this exact moment so I can capture their expressions as they all deadpan at my answer. They’re stupid if they think I’m going to say anything about Daisy. We have a long road ahead of us and the last thing we need is the media hounding us. I do enough stupid shit that brings us plenty of attention. We don’t need any more.

  The reporters don’t like me much after that answer, not that I can blame them. Kidd punches me in the shoulder and winks at me.

  “Gettin’ laid tonight?”

  I start to undress, hoping that if I ignore him, he’ll go away but he doesn’t. It’s not in his nature to just let something like this be brushed under the rug. He elbows me and I make the mistake of looking at him
. His tongue is doing things I can’t even describe to his cheek.

  “Not gonna happen,” I say, bursting his bubble.

  “Why not?”

  “Because we have a lot of unresolved issues and jumping into the sack isn’t how you fix things.”

  Kidd looks at me like I have two heads. “You’re a fucking pussy. You better turn in your man card. I think I’m embarrassed to know you.” He shakes his head and stalks off to the showers. It would be easy to be like him, but that’s not who I am. I tried to be the one-night stand guy and it wasn’t for me. Yeah, sex with no attachments is great, but sex with someone that you really care about is so worth it.

  After I shower, I walk out of the clubhouse and back toward the dugout. The lights are still on and people are cleaning the stadium. Daisy still sits in the same spot she was in earlier, right where I asked her to stay. I sit down in the empty seat beside her and look out over the field.

  “The reporters asked about you tonight. They asked me to tell them about my girlfriend.”

  “What’d you tell them?”

  “That I was in love with her.”

  Her head turns and the light catches her eyes just right, making them sparkle.

  “Oh yeah?”

  I nod. “Yeah and they asked for her name. I told them her name is Baseball.”

  Daisy’s lips morph into the biggest smile I’ve seen in a long time. “That’s the best answer ever.”

  “I know,” I say, proud of myself for the quick thinking. “What are you doing here?”

  “I got your tweet.”

  I sent her a tweet before the game started, telling her that I missed her. It was a last ditch effort to reach her and to show her that I’m serious. I know I don’t owe her anything, but I feel something for her that I can’t let go. Call me a psycho stalker or a sociopath but I want to be with her, or at least have her in my life.

  “I’m pretty good at tweeting.”

  “Yes, you are,” she says.

  We sit in silence, watching the grounds crew cover the field and preserve the infield for tomorrow’s game. They’ll be here first thing in the morning to get it ready. They’ll mow, edge and make sure everything is in place before they cover it up again for batting practice. It’s a tedious job, but they’re damn good at it.

  “I don’t deserve to have you in my life.”

  “I know,” I say, agreeing with her. Anyone else would’ve walked away, never looking back. But they’d be fools to walk away from someone like Daisy.

  “I should’ve told you about my job when we first met.”

  “Yes, you should have, but why don’t you tell me now?”

  Daisy sighs, rubbing her hands over her bare thighs. It was ninety out today and the night air is the perfect temperature.

  “When you arrived in Boston my professor thought it would be a good idea for someone in class to cover you. Sort of like a fan blog about you, but I had the idea to do the whole team. He gave the job to me because I have season tickets, or at least I did. He offered to pay me, plus I could do whatever I wanted with ad space. I needed the money so I took the job thinking I’d never meet you or any of the other guys.

  “At first, you made it easy. The stupid things you were doing were tabloid fodder and I was having so much fun. Then you’d tweet me and I could tell you were getting pissed so I started writing about the other guys as well. Tips were coming in like crazy. I’d get tweets about who was in the bar hooking up, who’s cheating, what wife just spent an obscene amount at the store… the more I posted, the more hits I received which meant more ad traffic and that meant more money in my account and better food on our table.

  “The first night we had dinner, someone in the restaurant tweeted me about you being on a date. I thought for sure you figured it out by the time I sat down, but you never said anything except for me to call your agent. Believe me, I have…he’s not very nice.”

  I have to laugh at her last statement because it’s true: He’s a dick.

  “The day you surprised me in the library I was uploading a new post. And when we fought, I saw it as an opportunity to escape what was coming.”

  “What was that?” I ask.

  “Heartache.”

  She broke my heart.

  “But I couldn’t stay away and it wasn’t because of some story, but because I was… still am… in love with you. I never used you, Ethan. I didn’t have to. There were enough people surrounding all of you that were willing to give up a story. Bainbridge’s wife is one of them. She emails me on a daily basis. It’s sad, really.” Her voice trails off and I start to question why I’m not angry with her now that she’s coming clean. This is the story I’ve been waiting for and I should be yelling, but I’m not.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you. That is my biggest regret. After everything you’ve done and were doing for my grandpa… there were so many times I wanted to tell you, but I just couldn’t find the words.”

  “That night in the car, when you said you forgot to call a night nurse, what was that about?”

  “I had forgotten to cancel the post and freaked out. You would’ve wondered about all the notifications or asked me why I’m fiddling with my phone so much. I couldn’t turn my phone off because my grandpa might have called.”

  I would’ve taken her phone away if she were messing with it while we were together. Our time was valuable and limited. The last thing we needed was interruptions.

  “How did you know I went to Sarah’s in Seattle? You never posted about it.”

  “Steve’s wife. She tells me everything.”

  And Steve heard it in the clubhouse and told his wife? I’m not buying it.

  “I don’t think Bainbridge would’ve told her.”

  Daisy looks at me. “He didn’t. Jacobson did.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Honestly, Ethan, sometimes you have these blinders on. You need to take them off and look around. There’s a lot of shit going down in your clubhouse.”

  I know she’s right, but sometimes you want to keep the blinders on so you don’t lose who you are, or start thinking about the shit your teammates are doing. Sometimes it’s better not to know.

  “There are things I tweeted to you as a blogger, about you as the person I fell in love with. I’m trying to wrap my head around that. There are days when I think it’s no big deal, but other times it freaks me the fuck out.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t.”

  I sigh and lean forward, looking at her from an angle.

  “Where do we go from here, Daisy? What do you want?”

  I know it’s an open-ended question and the answers could be endless. I have no doubt she’d ask for more time with her parents and grandparents if she could, or even world peace at this point. I hope she knows I’m asking about us and giving her the choice.

  “What I want is you, if you’re willing to have me, flaws and all. Where we go? I don’t know, but I’m flexible.”

  We’re not meant to be perfect in this world and yes I know she fucked up, but under her circumstances, I get it. I may have gone about things differently, but I understand why she did what she did.

  “It’s what I want too,” I tell her, as I pull her into a kiss, loving the feel of her lips against mine once again. She melts into me and pushes her fingers through my hair. I tug gently at her lip before our tongues meet and fireworks go off around us. I pull away and watch the night sky light up with red, blue and white lights.

  “I think someone is helping us celebrate.”

  “I think we ought to take this someplace else,” I tell her, pulling her to her feet.

  “Dinner would be good.”

  I look at her questioningly and she shrugs. “We can do dinner.”

  We start up the stairs hand in hand, until we reach the top. “There’s just one thing though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I want to make sure we’re clear on one thing.”<
br />
  “Okay,” she says, drawing out the word.

  “I don’t care about the blog. In fact, I want you to keep it going as long as you stop posting how many times I adjust myself.”

  “Does that mean I have to stop counting?” she asks with an evil gleam in her eye.

  “No, just think of it as me thinking about you.”

  “I like that.”

  I push her hair behind her ear and sigh lightly.

  “Also know that I am, without a doubt, truly in love with you. I love you, Daisy.” I cup her cheek with my hand and kiss her until the fireworks start again. The people of Boston are going to start wondering what’s going on at Lowery Field tonight if we don’t get the hell out of here.

  “Hey, babe,” I say as I walk into the house. From where I stand, I can see her trying to hang some kind of garland on one of the shelves of our floor to ceiling bookshelf. Our house is fully decorated down to a huge ass tree with white lights and all the Christmas decorations we could find. There is garland wrapped with more of the same white lights that are on the tree and red bows on every available surface, as well as tied around the pillars that separate the living area from the hallway. There’s a mountain of presents under the tree too. None of them are for me though; I know because I’ve checked.

  My parents, sister, brother-in-law and Shea arrive tomorrow to celebrate Christmas with us. Daisy is nervous about meeting everyone. I’d say I get it, but she talks to my mom on the phone more than I do. My mom already loves Daisy.

  Daisy moved in with me two weeks after we got back together. It wasn’t a rash decision, but one I took very seriously. She wasn’t comfortable moving without helping with expenses, which I thought was ludicrous but understood where she was coming from. She pays the utilities and cooks. I pay, happily, for everything else.

  She’s also done with school, but won’t be looking for a job until February when I report for spring training. We want to spend as much time as possible together before the season starts. Her graduation is in May and we’ll be having a huge party for her.