I smile against his side, tracing the dates tattooed across his ribs.
His first day in the Majors, and the day the Fireballs clinched their first division championship.
Championship.
Championship. “Cooper.The game.”
I fumble for the remote I keep in my nightstand, hit three buttons, and everything shifts into motion to open the cabinet hiding my television.
I don’t have to change the channel.
It was already set from when I watched the Fireballs win their league championship last week to advance to the finals.
But unlike last week, I’ve missed the game.
“My heart just stopped,” Cooper whispers as my gaze flies to the screen, where Diego Estevez isn’t smiling as he’s being interviewed.
There’s no score listed.
What’s the damn score?
“You’re so serious,” the reporter says to Diego.
“Doing this for Coop is serious business,” Diego replies. “He’s the whole reason we’re here.”
“You wish he’d been here tonight?”
“We all do.”
Cooper doesn’t say a word.
“You certainly showed him how much you care,” the reporter says.
Luca Rossi walks past behind them, and we distantly hear his voice. “We love you, Coop!”
“Seventeen to one is a blow-out score for a World Series game. You think you’re gonna tell Cooper to stay away so you can wrap this up in another three games, or would you rather he come back? Any superstitions there?” the reporter asks.
Cooper and I both let out simultaneous breaths.
“Fuuuuck.”
Nope.
No idea if that was me or him.
If he’s feeling half of what I’m feeling in this moment—should he or shouldn’t he go back? Will they really do better without him?—then it’s probably both of us harmonizing.
Darren Greene shoves into the camera view. “What kind of idiot question is that? We can win with Cooper. We can win for Cooper. We can win without Cooper. We’re the damnFireballs. And I hope he gets hisbleepback here before the next game, but every last guy on this team and fan in these stands knows he’d be here unless whatever kept him away was major, and every last one of us has his back. Ask Diego about starting us off with his homer and do your damn job.”
“Fuck, I love that guy,” Cooper whispers.
“Is he gonna get fined for that?”
“Probably.”
“Can I pay it for him?”
Cooper snorts with laughter. “I’m gonna sit in a corner and watch you offer to do that for him, and then I’m gonna enjoy the hell out of the show. I honestly don’t know which of you will win that argument.”
