“Not at all. Heather surprised me . . . with it. She said . . . I can still use the chair . . . you know. Fatigue.”
I nod through my grin. I know my dad, and now that he’s made it to this step, I’ll be hard pressed to get him to take it easy in that chair. There’s no such thing as too much practice in his mind. Coach mentality, I suppose.
“I survived. Thought you’d want to know.” Hunter’s voice breaks into my celebration bubble, and my pulse ratchets up. Mydad recognizes him immediately, and despite the way his stroke sometimes distorts his mouth, it seems to have left his smirk unscathed. My dad’s eyes shift to me and I immediately look away. It feels as though I’ve been caught. Doing what? I have no idea. But definitely not something I want to be caught doing.
“Sorry I abandoned you in there. Glad the water worked. You should probably be more careful with your allergies.” I clear my throat, doing my best to sound platonic, almost clinical.
“That’s quite . . . a fastball you’ve got.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing my father’s fan fest has now begun, and Hunter’s ego is about to shine.
“Thank you. See? I was trying to tell Renleigh here that I’m pretty good at this baseball thing. It took me an hour to talk her into coming to one of my games. And they’re great seats!” Hunter steps toward my dad, reaching his hand out to shake. My father adjusts his grip on his new walker and takes his hand awkwardly. Still, though, I notice the slight flex in my father’s forearm. He put as much squeeze into that as he could to make his point—he’s stillDad.
“If she won’t . . . go, I will.” My dad coughs out a laugh as Hunter’s gaze shifts to me.
“Why don’t you join her?” he suggests.
Son-of-a-bitch!
“Love to!” My dad’s enthusiasm leaves me zero excuses. Looks like I’m locked into watching Hunter’s game. An afternoon at the ballpark with my dad isn’t the worst way to pass the time. In fact, most of my favorite memories involve this very thing.
“Sounds like I’ll see you two on Thursday, then.” Hunter turns his body toward mine, mouth curved up on one side. “It’s a date.”
“It’s not a date,” I respond under my breath, thankful that my father is busy working to turn his walker in the right direction.
Hunter’s head tilts when our eyes meet.
“Hmm, it’s kind of a date.”
“Yeah? That’s how your dates roll, Mr. Number One Draft Pick? You take fathers along to chaperone?” I roll my eyes as I laugh, and turn to follow my dad along the sidewalk, ready to support him as he takes slow steps toward our car.
“If that’s what it takes for a date with you, Renleigh Blackwood, then yes. I welcome Mr. Blackwood’s company,” Hunter hollers.
“You can call me Coach . . . Blackwood.” My dad’s been paying more attention than I thought.
“Yes, sir. Coach it is,” Hunter says, and I don’t bother to fill him in on my father’s history with the game. I don’t need them bonding any more than they have already. I’m doomed enough as it is.
Chapter 5
Hunter
Tulsa is an offensive beast. Of all the games to invite Renleigh to, I go and pick the one where I’m going to have to work my ass off.
On the iPad screen, I run my finger along the player and review the compilation videos of Tulsa’s heart of their lineup. Again. It doesn’t help that two of these guys are on rehab assignments from the Pirates. Even with oblique strains, they’ll be tough outs to get.
“You getting nervous, rookie?” Roddy passes behind me as I pause the video on Tulsa’s clean-up hitter.
“Nah, I don’t get nervous. Just doing my homework.” I slide the iPad on the top shelf of my locker and swing a leg over the bench while Roddy shoves his helmet into his locker and runs a towel over his sweat-drenched face.
“Good. If you listen to me, you’ll be just fine.”
He chuckles, but I know he’s not kidding. Just like I know if I blow off his pitch-calling against Tulsa, he’ll tell the four-hole hitter exactly what’s coming just to teach me a lesson.
“Right, hit my spots, throw what you tell me to.” I salute him, then lean back on my palms, propping one leg up along the bench while I weigh whether to get Roddy’s advice on another matter.
“So, Renleigh . . .”
He’s laughing under his breath before I say another word, shaking his head as his eyes shut.
