We arrive at Louisiana State a couple hours later and pull up outside the dorms. Bella and I are bringing boxes up to her room from the truck.
“Need a hand?” asks a voice from behind me, as I'm pulling out some of the last boxes from the truck.
“Oh! Hi, thank you, that would be great,” I say, smiling at the young man.
He smiles back and grabs the box from my hands, brushing my chest in the process. I put my hands on my hips as Bella comes back to the truck, interrupting my scolding. The boy smiles at her and she smiles back.
“I’m Davey,” he says smiling at us. “You guys twins? Freshman?” he asks.
“Oh no,” Bella says quickly. “This is my mother.”
Davey does a double take and shakes his head.
“Oh boy. I'm sorry ma'am, I didn't mean to...my apologies,” he says, burying his head in shame.
“I would suggest you keep your hands to yourself, Davey. You're gonna get yourself into trouble.”
“Yes ma'am, I'll uh...I got the rest of the boxes. I'm really sorry,” he says, bowing his head and running off towards the dorms.
I laugh and roll my eyes.
“What was that about?” Bella asks me.
“He nonchalantly copped a feel as he grabbed a box. Do I really have to leave you here with all these horndogs?” I say, bringing her in for a hug.
She laughs and squeezes me back.
“I'll be fine Mama.”
“I know ya will baby girl, I know ya will. Remember what I told you. Keep your heart soft, but your--”
“Calluses hard. I got it Mama,” she says winking.
I nod and instinctively a tear trickles down my face. Dammit, I'm only human.
“Mama…” Bella says, her eyes starting to water.
“Don't, baby girl,” I say holding back a sob. “I cannot wait to watch you kick some ass this season. Show them what a Daniels girl can do, huh?” I say smiling, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
She smiles back and nods.
“And please, for the love of the Lord, do not bring home this Davey kid,” I laugh and so does she.
I grab the last box out of the back of the truck and she takes it from me, waving as I pull away. I feel the other part of my heart staying here and the tears crash over me. It's been the three of us for so long, I'm not sure how I will survive by myself. What is going to be left of me, if I don’t have my babies?
Chapter 6
Gabriel
“So how do you feel about that Gabriel?”
I look over to my therapist, Neil Lockwood. Ever since getting traded to Miami when I was 21 years old, I've been a wreck. The endless supply of addictions within grasp of a young man would break any mere mortal. My therapist would say that's bullshit, it all stemmed from her.
“Well I mean, I'm happier, not really happy but happier than I was.”
I shrug my shoulders, exhaling.
“Well that's a good start. Have you been drinkin’?”
I shake my head.
“Nah, that's never been the problem though, we both know that.”
He smiles and writes something in his notebook.
“You're catchin’ on, it's nice to see.”
“Been doin’ this for four years, ‘bout time I finally did, don't ya think?”
He laughs.
“So now I wont see you for a couple of months. Excited about the new draft class?”
“Excited, yeah. Keeps me on my toes.”
“Well I'm proud of you Gabriel. You've come a long way. Take care of yourself and I'll see you in a couple of months. I'm always here if you need me sooner.”
We both stand and shake hands as we move towards the door to his office. I leave the building, putting my sunglasses on top of my head and walk towards my car.
Everytime I leave these sessions I feel like a lighter man, but also a more broken one at the same time. When will I ever feel content? Will I ever?
Getting drafted to the Houston Lonestars at 18 was my dream. What I did not account for in those dreams was falling in love and then shattering her, us.
I got traded to the Miami Stingrays at 21 and it all went downhill from there. A couple years later they traded me back to Houston but it didn't matter.
Put a tiger in the wild, he's a tiger. Put a tiger in a cage, he's still a tiger. Until of course four years ago, when the guilt I had for abandoning my sister outweighed my rational thinking. I should have been there for her all these years. She should have never married that piece of shit.
I've kept my distance from the people I love. They don't need my baggage, they're all better off without me, especially her. She's probably moved on now, anyway. She was too perfect for someone not to snatch her up and put her on the pedestal that she deserved, the pedestal I should have kept her on.
Enough of that, Gabriel, you have a new draft class to mold. Focus on something you can actually change.
I look out at the new faces on the field and exhale. Another year. Although I'm happy to still be surrounded by the game, every season I can't help shake the feeling that I'm missing something.
I'm 36 years old, a has been major league baseball pitcher and now I manage rookie ball. I'm not as bitter as I was about it a couple years ago, but it still doesn't make me feel fulfilled.
I hear whistles to my right, so I look over and zone in on our new pitcher. Lefty, Devin Daniels from Louisiana turned down a full ride to Louie State. Eighteen. Hothead. Reminds me of myself. I know I need to straighten this kid out because the tape on him is incredible. He could really be something, if he got his temper on the field under control. I watch him warm up and walk over to introduce myself.
“Daniels, I'm Gabriel--”
“Gavinwood, I know. People call me DJ. Devin John. I'd prefer that sir,” he says, extending his hand to shake mine.
Strong handshake, good job kid.
“John, huh? That's my middle name, too. Where'd you say you were from?”
“I didn't sir. I'm from Arnaudville, Louisiana.”
“I know it. Grew up there,” I say, eyeing the boy.
“I know sir. They retired your number up on the wall in the gym. I'm a big fan...well up until you went and--”
He stops talking and his eyes widen when he realizes he was about to criticize me.
I'm used to it though, so I slap him on the shoulder and nod for him to continue throwing.
Something about this kid seems familiar but I just can't place it.
I continue to watch him throw and his skills amaze me. I motion for our pitching coach to pull out the speed gun and tell DJ that I want to clock him, after he’s warmed up.
When he says he's ready to go, I set up the gun and tell him to let it rip.
He takes his stance and looks forward. He looks behind him and fiddles with the ball in his glove. His front knee goes up high, as his arm slings back and launches forward, sending the ball curling into the glove of my catcher. I look down at the gun. 101. Damn.
“Nice start kid, but we got alotta work ahead of us.”
He laughs and walks over to me, looking at the gun.
“101? Come on coach, that's fire right there,” he says smugly.
“Arrogance will get ya nowhere,” I grumble and walk towards my pitching coach.
“Got a little whiplash over there, deja vu going back and forth between the two of y'all, ” says Tony, our pitching coach
“I wasn't that bad. Kids already planning how he's gonna spend his first big league check, you can see it,” I say, shaking my head.
“Looks a lot like you and the attitude is about the same. You didn't think you were that bad because you weren't standing on my side of things,” he says laughing.
I look back over to DJ and he's laughing with a couple of the guys. Something inside me stirs and comes alive. This might be the most excited I've been about this job since I was sent down here four years ago. The potential this kid has is endless, and I get to be the one to teach him.
/>
***
“Ya know, my mama was right about you,” says DJ, as I stand on the sidelines, watching him run suicides.
He decided to flamethrow all morning, after I told him he was done. Kid's gonna burn out his arm before he even hits double A or worse, injuries.
He's been a smartass for the past two months, showing off at every turn and I'm sick and tired of it.
“Oh yeah? How's that?”
“Said you were probably an asshole,” he says out of breath, continuing the sprints.
“She go to North High, too?”
“Older than you,” he says between breaths. “Never met you.”
“Well then, I guess she shouldn't judge a book by its cover,” I say smugly.
For some reason, his comment irks me. I wasn't always a dick. I thought I was pretty pleasant in HS. I had her. When I lost her, that's when all hell started to break loose.
“Wrap it up,” I say, twirling my finger in a circle.
“Listen, you need to start listenin’ to me. I'm only here to help you get better. If I say slow it down, slow it down. The last thing you need is Tommy John surgery, before you even hit the majors.”
He stops running and bends forward panting, his hands on his knees.
“Alright I get it.”
“Not major league shape yet, huh?”
“I've been trainin’ all spring with my mama. I'm ready I just...couldn't sleep last night, I'm tired,” he says, catching his breath.
“Why are you not gettin’ sleep?”
“Its nothin’. I'll be back to normal tomorrow.”
“DJ a big part of this team is communication. If we can't communicate we start to have problems. Whatever's got ya up at night is affectin’ your game, so we figure it out together, deal?”
He nods and exhales.
“I just...it's just me, my mama and my sister. Now it's just my mama, I guess...I just wanna make sure she's alright. She says she is, but I can tell by her voice, she ain't,” he says, shaking his head.
He straightens up and sits down on the grass, his arms draped over his knees.
“Where’d your sister go?” I ask curiously.
“Louie State. She plays softball and she's damn good,” he says proudly.
The hair on my arm stands at attention and my gaze snaps to his.
“Softball huh? Y'all are a ball family?”
“Yep. My mama was going to Louie on a full ride for softball but then...well she didn't. She says my dad was good at ball, too. Went to Louie State to play also but…sorry, I'm ramblin’,” he says laughing, looking up at me.
“No, it’s fine. What happened to your dad?”
“Took off when my mama was pregnant with me and my sister. Went to State and she never heard from him again, so I don't know,” he says, shaking his head.
“You and your sister. You're a…”
“Twin...yeah.”
“Let me ask ya somethin’, DJ. What's your mama's name? I might know her after all,” I say, as the pieces slowly start to fall into place and I panic.
“Charlotte, but some people call her Charlie,” he says, as the shock invades my body.
I still and stare at him. Daniels. Devin John Daniels. How the fuck did I miss that last name.
“And you're eighteen?” I ask, just needing to be sure, even though I know the reality.
“Yep. Be 19 in January, the 8th,” he answers.
I mentally do the math in my head. The memory comes smacking me in the face, because the reality is that Charlotte Daniels did have my baby. Both of them.
***
So, Mr. Prom King I have somethin’ to tell you,” she says, kissing my lips softly, as we sway to the music.
“What is that, Miss Prom Queen,” I say smiling, fixing her crown, so it is straight on her head.
“I...I don’t know how you’re goin’ to take it,” she says nervously.
“Charlie, whatever it is, you can tell me. I love you, you know, nothin’ can change that,” I say, pushing a stray hair away from her face.
“I...I think I’m pregnant. I haven’t gone to the doctor yet but I’m late, and I think I even missed a period in May too, and I took a test and...” she breaks off and I know she's searching my face for a reaction.
My arms go stiff against her body and I feel my face pale.
“Charlie...Jesus Christ,” I say, running my hands through my hair. “How…”
“How do you think, Gabe? We can’t keep our hands off each other, it was bound to happen. We were reckless and not always careful. I didn’t think anything of it, and I guess you didn’t either but...we’ll get through it though. Together, right?” she asks with hope in her voice, putting her hand on my cheek, smiling at me.
I look down at her and her smile falters.
“I...we have to take care of this Charlie, you know I can’t be a father right now.”
“Take care of it? Gabriel that's a sin we can't-”
“And havin’ a baby outta wedlock ain't? Your daddy would kill us both. Dammit, I need to think about this, but we have to...shit, I need some air,” I say, pulling away from her.
I can't do this right now. My future and my dream is so close, how could I have fucked this up so badly? We need to see if this is for real and if it is, we have to take care of it. We both have big plans for the future and neither one of them include a baby.
Charlotte
I type furiously on my computer with the two minutes I have until my first client meeting. I feel the sweat dripping down my back and try not to concentrate on the nervousness.
Mr. Antonio Chavez is the shortstop for the Atlanta Storm. He's 25, likes to party, getting into trouble and he needs to clean up his act before he is paying fines, bigger than his actual salary.
I hear my phone buzz and I jump. I reach to press for the intercom and the receptionist’s voice echos off my office walls.
“Mr. Chavez is here, Charlotte.”
“Sure, Tess send him back.”
I stand and straighten my skirt. I run a hand to smooth out the front of my shirt and play with my hair a couple of seconds. I want to look professional and presentable and not screw up the chance that Savannah gave me.
My door opens and a tall, tan and impeccably groomed man walks through the door. His olive skin is flawless, and his face is made of stone. His hair is styled without one strand out of place and his face is clean shaven. His smile is so white, it blinds me, and it's aimed right at me.
“When Coach told me about doing some PR work, I would have been less reluctant, if I knew I was going to be working with such beauty,” says the smooth voice, with a hint of a Spanish accent.
He closes the distance between us and my words are caught in my throat as he reaches for my hand and kisses the top. Is this guy for real?
“Uh Mr. Chavez, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Charlotte Daniels,” I say, politely smiling and pulling my hand away.
“Believe me, the pleasure is all mine,” he says, dropping his voice even lower.
I clear my throat and take a step back, turning to move around my desk and put some distance between us. The past eighteen years, I forgot what it's like for a man to look at me with a hunger in his eyes. Granted, I get the drunk fools at the pub hitting on me all the time but this is different. Chavez is sober and smooth, and I have to draw the line before he crosses it.
“So, I'm told you need some good press. Savannah has drawn up a plan and I just implement it with marketing strategies. How about we go over the two events we have lined up, I'll show you what we expect from you and we can bounce around any other ideas? Whatever we come up with, I'll send over to management on your end and y'all can discuss and come back to us. Sound good?”
“Your accent is adorable, Bonita,” Chavez says smiling. “What do you think of mine?”
His smile is meant to be seductive, but I look down and steel myself.
“Mr. Chavez, with all due respect, we should keep this relationship pro
fessional,” I say with conviction.
Curveball: A Second Chance Romance (Double Play Series Book 1) Page 6