“Sometimes. I didn’t have a whole lot of free time when I lived there. When I wasn’t in school, I was at the field or working out before I headed to the field.”
“Really? That’s terrible.”
I smiled at Taylor’s scrunched-up face in my rearview mirror.
Looking back, it didn’t feel like I’d missed out on anything. Baseball was all I’d wanted to do for as long as I could remember, and I’d made it my life. It still was and probably always would be in some capacity. That was why when the guys had a stressful inning or when they were in the middle of a crucial play, it was all I could do to stop myself from grabbing a glove and running onto the field.
All those grueling days of practice and drills never felt like work to me. Being close enough to the game made me feel like I was part of it again, although I was still making peace with it being a much smaller, less active part.
“Holy crap, this is a mansion!” Taylor gasped as I pulled into my parents’ driveway.
When we’d first moved here, the houses in our town were huge to me, compared to the city. I remembered saying the same thing when they’d brought my brother and me to see the house after they’d bought it. It wasn’t a mansion, but it had a closed-in porch and a two-car garage that made it seem bigger than it was.
Our closest neighbor was half a block away, and our yard had been nothing but woods until my father had built the deck.
It had been a big adjustment from our house in the Bronx that was literally on top of our neighbors on either side, just like the brownstone Rachel and Taylor lived in.
Dad had switched jobs from where he’d worked in Manhattan to Westchester County, and he had found a great deal on a house that had needed a ton of renovation. He’d spent most of our childhood fixing it up in parts for us, and the first thing I’d done after I’d signed my first million-dollar contract was pay off their mortgage.
“This is a beautiful house,” Rachel mused as she climbed out of my truck. “I feel like we’re at a resort.”
“If you want to pretend I’m the cabana boy at some point this weekend, I could be into it,” I whispered, pulling her to me as I leaned against the side of my truck.
“Stop, not here,” she said in a loud whisper as she swept her gaze around the driveway.
“Not here,” I repeated. “You and I will be staying in my old room, while Taylor can have my brother’s bedroom all to herself. They redid both as just guest rooms, so neither of you will have to sleep under a Yankee comforter.”
“Still,” she said, letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t want them to think?—”
“Think what? That we’re adults who have sex? Really good sex,” I said, keeping my voice low, but Taylor was too busylooking over the house to pay attention to us. “Do you really think I’d let you sleep anywhere but with me this weekend?” I whispered, squeezing the back of her neck. “No fucking way.”
She fought a smile, her neck still tense even as her eyes heated.
“Silas!”
My mother rushed down the outside steps with my father behind her. She was tiny, only coming up to my chest even when I was in high school. Dad was around my height, the both of us sharing the same golden eyes, dark hair, and massive frame.
My brother was the smaller one. Not as short as my mother but a noticeable head shorter than my father and me.
He called my parents once in a while, but it was rare for him to visit. I wouldn’t say we actively hated each other like when we were kids, and he had reached out when I was hurt to text, “Sorry, tough break.”
I was never sure if it really was jealousy or if we were just too different to connect. Our indifference hurt my parents and they’d tried to fix it by inviting us to come over together, but after a few tries that had netted out to awkward silence, they’d accepted our non-relationship for what it was and had moved on.
Mom pulled me into a hug, her petite arms barely making it around my torso as she held on tight.
“Mom, you just saw me a couple of months ago.” I laughed and kissed the top of her head.
“And that’s plenty of time to miss my son.” She stepped back and squeezed my chin, craning her neck all the way up to look at me. “You look so good,” she said, beaming as she reached up on tiptoes to press her hands against my cheeks.
“Hey, son,” Dad said, giving me a one-armed hug. “Glad you made it up here.” He smiled at Rachel and Taylor. “Want to introduce us to your friends?”
I smiled at Rachel and pulled her into my side.
“This is Rachel and her sister Taylor. They both think our house is amazing.”
“Wait until you see the inside. Ben installed a fireplace last year. I know it’s June, but it’s still nice to look at. I’m Maryanne, and I’m so happy you’re both here.” Mom yanked them both into a hug, almost knocking Taylor to the ground with her boisterous grip.
Mom was little but strong and the parent to fear the few times I’d gotten into trouble.
