by Marta Brown
“You know it.” Pete smiles and gives me a wink. “I’d do anything for my girl.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” Dad shakes his head back and forth, his hands cutting through the air like an ump calling someone safe. “No. No. No. No. No. No. No.”
“Bob, honey.” Mom places her hand on his arm. “What is it?”
Did she just call him honey?
Now I’m the one shaking my head back and forth, wondering if I just got beamed by a fast ball, or if this has all just been some crazy concussion fueled hallucination from hitting my head on the dock.
“No. No way. I won’t allow it.”
“Allow what? What in the world are you talking about?” Mom asks, looking as confused as me.
What is dad talking about?
“Pete and Emily. That’s what.” Dad puts his hands on his hips, his back ramrod straight and his expression dead serious. “Right before he said he’d do anything for his girl, he winked. Didn’t you see the wink?”
Oh. That.
Kaitlin clamps her hand on my dad’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze before tucking herself under Pete’s arm. “Sorry, Mr. E, I’m the only girl Pete would do anything for.” Kaitlin smiles. “Even if that means driving me across the state all night long so I could come visit my best friend.”
Dad visibly relaxes as Pete leans down and plants a kiss on the top of Kat’s head. “The girl is right, Coach. Sorry to disappoint, since it’s obvious you would have loved to have me in the fam.”
At that, Mom lets out a small giggle, followed by the rest of us, until Dad finally lets out a long sigh of relief and joins in. My laughter is short lived since Dad just made his stance on me dating one of his players pretty clear. This is not good.
I take a deep breath. I have to tell them. No. I want to tell them. After all Tyler and I just went through, I don’t want to keep us a secret anymore. And I don’t want to lie to my parents anymore, either. I just hope they can see how happy I am—and that will make them happy, too.
“Um, Mom? Dad? There is something I want to tell you.” I glance at Tyler to make sure he’s okay with me telling my parents about us, and he silently answers by reaching out and wrapping his hand around mine.
Dad’s eyes widen, and for a split second I prepare for him to start shouting again, but instead he smiles. A huge, Yankees just won the World Series, size smile. “For the love of Pete Rose, this,” he gestures between Tyler and I, “this, I can handle.”
“Oh, I see how it is. Thanks a lot, Coach,” Pete jokes, making everyone laugh again, and taking with it any leftover tension I’ve been holding in my shoulders since last night.
“Speaking of wanting to tell you something,” Mom says, somehow putting the tension right back in. “Can we have a minute to speak with you alone, sweetie?”
My heart drops in my chest. Here it is. The inevitable talk I’ve tried so hard—misguided as it was—to avoid for the last year.
I take a deep breath, remembering what I really want, above all else, is for my parents to be happy. I smile.
“Of course. How about we take a walk?”
Chapter 28
Tyler
Waiting for Emily to finish saying goodbye to her parents in private, I lean against an old oak tree and take a deep breath, both relieved and surprised at how this day has turned out. Definitely not what I expected when I woke up this morning, that’s for sure.
I tip my head back and soak up the last few minutes of daylight. The sky—streaked with varying shades of pink, red, and orange—fades into the dark blues, purples and blacks of dusk, as the faint crackle of a campfire, further down the trail, can barely be heard above the laughter of everyone gathering around it.
A perfect summer night.
“Hey,” Emily says, walking towards me with her hands tucked into the back pockets of her jean skirt, somehow managing to look shy despite being the boldest girl I know.
I push off the tree and close the short distance between us. “Thought you might want this,” I say, pulling the faded red hoodie from my shoulder and wrapping it around her bare arms. “So…” I whisper, even though I’m not sure if I should ask or if I should wait for her to bring it up. “How’d it go?”
Emily drops her eyes to the ground, looking like she’s on the verge of tears. Oh, crap. I should have waited.
I pull Emily into my arms, and hold her tight until she tips her head up and looks at me through her lashes, her eyes filled with joy instead of tears like I expect.
“Tyler, it was amazing.” She smiles, her whole face lighting up. “I was certain, no, more than certain, resigned my parents were coming to tell me they’re calling it quits and getting a divorce, but they didn’t. I mean they’re not.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Emily shakes her head as we start to walk down the trail, hand in hand, her excitement barely contained in her step—which is actually more like a skip than anything.
“They said over the last few weeks they’ve finally been able to focus on their relationship without any other distractions, and after a few big fights, and some sessions with a marriage counselor, they’re doing better.”
“Wow.”
“I know, I can’t believe it. I mean, I know they have a lot to work on, but they’re working on it. Ya, know? And they seem happy.” Emily’s voice softens. “Really happy, for the first time in, like, forever.”
I wrap my arm around Emily’s shoulder as we continue down the dirt trail. “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you,” Emily says, snuggling deeper into the crook of my arm. “Except, I have a lot of work to do to help repair my relationship with them, since the truth is, I’ve been the main ‘distraction’ for them over the last year.” Emily frowns, looking guilty. “But… we’re going to do family counseling when I get home, which I think will be really good for all of us.”
I lean down and kiss her on the top of her head, loving the way her eyes crinkle when she glances back up at me, looking happier than I’ve ever seen her.
“So, how’d you manage to get my sweatshirt?” Emily asks, tucking her hands into the floppy sleeves and burying her nose to take a deep breath.
I raise my brows, giving her a crooked smile. “You mean my sweatshirt?”
“Oh, no, you lost ownership of this baby the moment you gave it to me,” Emily laughs, wrapping her arms around my waist, and resting her chin on my chest.
I brush my thumb across her smiling cheek, not at all surprised by how fast I’ve fallen for this girl. This amazing, beautiful girl. “Funny. I could say the same thing about my heart.”
“That you lost ownership the moment you gave it to me?” Emily says, her smile soft, her eyes sparkling.
“Maybe even before that—if I’m telling the truth,” I admit, without reservation. No more games.
Emily lifts up on her toes and brushes her lips against mine. “I know exactly what you mean, Slugger.”
The sexy way her nickname for me rolls off her tongue knots my stomach with want. I pull her body into mine and crash my lips into hers, relieved we don’t need to sneak around or worry about someone cutting it short and busting us.
“Oh. I almost forgot to tell you,” Emily says, pulling away suddenly, and breaking it up all on her own.
Seriously?
“Hey, I was in the middle of something here,” I tease, kissing down her neck and making her squirm. “Can it wait?”
“Dad knows.”
I stop my assault on her neck. Knows what? About last night? My heart picks up; surprise nearly knocking me over that he didn’t take a wooden bat to my knees after finding out about Emily and I half dressed and going at it in the outfield.
“Is he…pissed? Never mind.” I wave away my stupid question. “Of course he’s pissed.” I hang my head, readying myself to hear exactly how mad he is. “So? Do I need to transfer schools? Join witness protection?”
Emily laughs at my paranoia. “He’s not mad at
all.”
My jaw goes slack. “He’s not mad? At all?”
“No—I mean, he’s definitely worried because he doesn’t want to lose you, but he’s not mad.”
Lose me? Wait. What?
“We’re not talking about your dad finding out about us last night, are we?”
Emily clamps her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp before breaking out in a fit of giggles. “No. We are definitely not talking about that. Do you really think you’d still be walking?” she asks in all seriousness. Her question making me laugh—considering that’s exactly what I figured would happen if he ever found out.
“No, he knows about you having to choose between med school or baseball.”
I choke on my laugh. “But…how?”
“After our talk, we ran into Doc and he went on for almost half an hour about what a bright future you have in medicine. I guess Dad put two and two together—you know—that it has to be one or the other. But don’t worry; I reminded him we had six more weeks here before anything needed to be decided.”
“Actually… a funny thing happened last night. At the prospect of losing both, I finally realized exactly what I want to do.”
“Tyler, that’s amazing!” Emily jumps into my arms, a wide grin spreading across her face. “So? Is it gonna be Tyler Ford, MD? Or Tyler Ford, MVP?”
“I decided it’s going to be Tyler Ford, M—”
“All right, you two,” Lucy says, appearing from behind a group of dense trees further up the trail and interrupting us. “Enough kissy face already—you have all summer. So come on, everyone’s waiting for Camp Champ’s newest couple.” Lucy gestures back up the trail where the campfire is burning brightly just beyond the trees. “Well…second newest.”
I set Emily back on the ground, but keep my arms wrapped tightly around her. “Second newest, huh? Who’s the other lucky couple? Todd and his bod? ” I joke, earning a snort from Emily.
“Close.” Lucy laughs. “It’s Todd and Jenny. And they’ve already named themselves ‘Hottiebody.’”
“But that doesn’t even make sense,” Emily says, laughing.
“I know, but I don’t think Todd gets how the whole name mash thing works, and Jenny doesn’t seem to care she’s so happy.”
Glancing down at Emily as she giggles with her friend, I make a mental note to talk to Todd later and remind him of the rules. Rule number one: don’t get caught.
“I’m happy for them, and I think ‘Hottiebody’ is the perfect name,” Emily says.
“It’s all right, but it’s definitely not as good as ours,” I say, winking at Lucy since I have her and Kaitlin to thank for the name.
Emily whips her head back and forth between Lucy and me as she bounces on her tip toes. “We have a camp name? But we’ve only been a couple for, like, half a day?”
“That didn’t stop ‘Hottiebody,” Lucy laughs.
“True,” Emily concedes. “So? Who came up with it?
“Are you kidding?” I gesture to Lucy with my head. “She and Kat had that locked down before you and your parents got done talking this afternoon.”
“But we were only gone for, like, an hour.”
I smile at Emily’s surprise. She should know better than anyone what her two best friends are capable of. “I’m telling you, locked down. I was afraid if you were gone much longer, they were going to start planning our wedding.”
Emily laughs at my joke, but the funny thing is I’m not kidding. I think they decided on pink bridesmaids dresses.
“Well? What is it? No. No, let me guess,” Emily says, rolling her eyes towards the sky, thinking. “Is it Tily? No, Tim and Lilly already have that name. Um…is it Emler? No.” She shakes her head. “That sounds too much like glue—which, Lucy, our future kindergarten teacher might like—but it would never fly with Kat.”
“Should we give her a clue?” Lucy says, bouncing like one of her elementary aged campers who has to go to the bathroom, obviously dying to tell Emily.
I sling my arm over Emily’s shoulder. “Nah, she’ll figure it out soon enough,” I say as we round the corner and the light from the campfire bounces off Emily’s cheekbones. Her smile as radiant as ever.
“There they are,” someone shouts over the noise of a dozen small conversations happening around the giant fire. “Forevers is finally here!”
“Ford…Evers…Forevers.” Emily smiles up at me, her eyes twinkling. “I kind of love it.”
“Me, too,” I say before leaning down and pressing my lips to hers, eliciting a round of shouts and applauses from our friends.
Me, too.
Epilogue
Tyler
“Good game,” I call out over the noise echoing through the stadium as I slap number forty-two on the back. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay?”
With a quick nod, I grab my bag, toss it over my shoulder, and step out of the dugout, readying myself for the press.
“Ford, Ford! Over here!” someone shouts, as the blinding light from multiple camera flashes leaves spots behind my eyes and a smile on my face. The rush of it never getting old. Not like me, anyway.
A small tug on my sleeve distracts me momentarily from the pressing issue at hand.
“Can I get your autograph?” A boy, about twelve years old asks, holding out my rookie baseball card and a thick black sharpie. I take the card from his hand and run my thumb across its shiny surface, a million memories of that first year rushing back to me all at once.
I kneel down so we’re face to face, remembering what it was like to be his age, dreaming of being a major league baseball player someday. “So, who should I make it out to? Future MLB star?”
“Tommy.”
“Tommy, huh?” I smile at the kid, decked out in the team’s jersey, a matching hat, and batter’s glove. “I bet’cha didn’t know I have a brother named Tommy,” I say signing the card and handing it back.
“Actually, I did know that because I’m one of your biggest fans,” he says, slipping the card into a small plastic protective sleeve before putting it into the tin box he’s holding. “I also know your batting average, your runs batted in, your saves—you name it. I know it.”
I give the kid a quick head rub and jostle his hair. “Wow, that’s pretty impressive,” I say, chuckling at the idea I have fans at all.
“Thanks, Mr. Ford.”
“You can call me Tyler next time you see me, okay, Tommy?” I hand him back his pen and point him in the direction of Lou, the team manager. “Go tell Lou I sent you, and I bet he’ll be able to get you a signed team ball to add to that collection of cards you have there.” I gesture to his box.
“Really?” His eyes light up. “Thanks, Tyler!” he says before scuttling off into the crowd towards Lou, and leaving me to at least a dozen microphones, digital recorders, and cameras being shoved in my face. Back to work.
“Dr. Ford. Dr. Ford,” a reporter shouts, gaining my attention. “Dr. Ford, you know Pete Mickelson better than anyone on the team since you came up with him through the minors and then got your rookie breaks together. Can you elaborate on his probable diagnosis, and if you believe he can overcome this injury?”
“Yeah, is his career done?” another reporter shouts before I can answer the first.
“All right, all right. One at a time.” I point at the first reporter again. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks,” he says in a thick New York accent as he maneuvers his microphone closer. “Since you yourself endured the same injury after your second year with the Yanks—effectively ending your baseball career—can you elaborate for us the amount of rehab this will take for him to make a full recovery? And is it even possible?”
I adjust my tie at the insinuation my injury ended my baseball career, when in truth, after working with the amazing team of doctors that helped me recover after I tore my ACL, I decided I wanted to finish my pursuit of medicine. My true calling.
“Pete Mickleson incurred an anterior cruciate ligament injury today, and though a dee
per evaluation will be needed, it is my professional opinion he will indeed need surgery, which I will most likely schedule for sometime next week. That being said, Mr. Mickleson is in peak health and I expect he will make a complete and full recovery.”
“Dr.—”
I hold up my hand, to stop any further questions. “There will be a full press conference tomorrow afternoon where all questions will be addressed,” I say, seeing my little girl running down the hall towards me, her lips as bright red as the tips of her mother’s hair the night we met. “If you’ll please excuse me.”
“Daddy!"
“Hi, honey,” Emily says, kissing my cheek before I scoop up our daughter and give her a hug. “Please tell me Pete’s going to be okay—Kaitlin is seriously freaking out.”
“Not to worry, Pete’s going to be fine. I’ll give Kat a call from the car and explain the procedure. He’ll be as good as new when I’m done with him, I promise.” I smile at my wife as the worry on her face for our friends washes away, before turning my attention back to the wiggle worm in my arms. “Now, a more pressing problem is how you, little missy, are ever going to fall asleep tonight. I can practically smell the sugar coming out of your pores.”
“Grandma and Grandpa let me have three popsicles and a cotton candy.”
I roll my eyes. Of course, they did. And that explains the red lips. “Remind me to thank Coach for that later.”
“Grandpa said you’d say that,” Ellie informs me before falling into a fit of giggles.
“All right, my little slugger,” Emily says tickling Ellie’s side. “We need to get you home and in bed—you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”
Ellie lays her head on my shoulder as her laughter dies down. “Do I have to go, Daddy?”
Rubbing small circles on our daughter’s back, Emily smiles up at me, her grin still as light and bright as it was nearly twenty years ago when I first laid eyes on her.
“What if nobody likes me?” Ellie whispers, owning my heart like no one other than her mother ever has.