“What’s your superstition?” Mackenzie asks.
“Lucky socks. They got washed two weeks ago. By accident. Not the equipment manager’s fault. Don’t blame him. I shouldn’t have left them out.”
Mackenzie’s glare gets glarier. “I already talked to Theo, and he swears up and down no one’s touched your lucky socks. Everyone’s worried about you, so he’s personally checking to make sure they’re in your locker or your bag before they start laundry both before and after every game.”
Fuck. “Okay, yeah, I washed them myself. My nose can’t tolerate what it used to. Getting old sucks.”
All five of them suck in a breath.
Yes. I can run with this story. “I’m turningthirtysoon,” I say solemnly. “That’s like—”
“If you sayold, I will remember this and pay you back the minute we walk off the field with the World Series trophy,” Tanesha, who has me by two years, says.
“—A milestone that I’m not prepared for.” I clear my throat and glance at her. “I’m a spring chicken in normal-person years. But in baseball years, being thirty is like being fifty-eight.”
Henri’s brow furrows. “Fifty-eight?”
“Don’t let his specificity distract you,” Tillie Jean says. “I don’t fully buy thisoldbullshit. And Mom says you’re having bad dreams again.”
Thetraitor. “She thinks I’m having bad dreams because I asked for cotton candy during that post-game interview three weeks ago. Remember? She was like,you only want cotton candy after bad dreams, but really, this dude behind home plate was eating itall fucking game, and it was on my mind. You know how hard it is to watch every single batter, waiting for them to hit a grounder your way, but instead, all you see is a big fluffy ball of pink moving behind him? How can anyone endure that and not want cotton candy? This is my normal mid-season craving for junk food.”
“The more he talks, the more he’s making up stories,” Tillie Jean says to the room at large.
I like my sister.
I like Max.
I wasn’t initially in favor of the two of them dating, because Max would be the first person to tell you he was a shit and didn’t do relationships, and even though I knew he was wrong,hedidn’t know he was wrong, which basically meant he wasn’t wrong.
I didn’t want my sister dating someone who needed her to be his self-esteem. That shit has to come from within, because we all have a hard enough time with our own self-worth before taking on the responsibility of someone else’s.
Max pulled his head out of his ass and realized he can both struggle sometimes and still be a committed partner. Now as long as I don’t find my sister crying in my hotel room over him being a dick—which I haven’t—we’re cool.
Huh.
I do talk a lot.
And my point was, I don’t like my sister being on the road with me when it means she’s telling all my secrets and hacks. “Can I please go to bed so I can play like the god I am in a few hours?”
Praise the ghost of Babe Ruth, it works.
“I’m calling Mom,” Tillie Jean says as she heads to the door.
“You know believing in yourself is bigger than any superstition, right, Cooper?” Henri says as she follows.
Mackenzie snorts. “Oh, to be so new to the game that you still believe that…Call me, Cooper. I can help. And you know I will. Anytime, day or night.” She punches me lightly on the arm. “I’ll even quit being pissed that you haven’t asked for my help yet.”
Tanesha gives me a no-nonsense mom glare, which has gotten mommier since Andre was born last season. “Do. Not. Fuck. Around. You know what happens when you fuck around.”
“You find out,” I finish.
“You will so find out, and if you find out and make us lose, I willneverforgive you,” Marisol says. She’s been with the team about five years now. I mean, Emilio has, but Marisol’s been his boo as long as I’ve known him, and we all went to their wedding in the off-season.
“Nice pep talk,” I say as they file out of the room. “I know it’ll help.”
TJ makes a face at me.You don’t need pep talks, Mr. Ego, that face says.
For most of my life, I would’ve agreed with her.
