Leaving L.A. was the right call. Gabby’s house is a few miles southwest of downtown Nashville in an area called Sylvan Park. It's a very up and coming area with cute trendy restaurants and bars. There are also tons of greenways and parks making you feel like you are in the suburbs rather than a large metropolitan area. I love it here. Everything is so green and fresh. The pollution in L.A. is so bad you almost forget that living in it is not normal.
We’ve settled into a rhythm since I arrived two weeks ago. Gabby works during the day from her office in the front bedroom. I typically set up either in the kitchen or on her covered, and cooled, back patio to write, research, and plan. Then at night, we cook dinner together, watch movies, do puzzles, or gossip until it’s time to go to bed.
Tonight, we’re watching the Tampa Tides take on Baltimore. Preston is designated hitter tonight. Miller is behind the plate. I still talk to Preston every day but with the season starting and his travel schedule picking up, our calls are shorter and more infrequent. I try to remind myself this is the season we are in. My calls with my dad always drop off when the season starts too.
I should have been more prepared for this but it’s hard. Preston and I have only been together for three months, less than two of those as a couple. The time we talk or see each other via video call or pictures may be short, but Preston makes me feel like the most important thing in his world in those moments. He never misses an opportunity to tell me how much he loves me, misses me, and can’t wait to see me. Those are what I hold onto when the doubt rears its head and tries to convince me we are doomed. I choose to have faith.
“Woof, he should have caught that,” Gabby says when the guy playing second for Tampa misses a ground ball.
“That’s his third bad play of the game.” Tampa is playing okay but would be doing better if Preston were actually on the field instead of in the dugout. I knew he wasn’t starting everygame. On one hand, I understood the need to hold Preston accountable for his actions during the break. On the other hand, it’s extremely unfair to punish him for a literal pandemic being the ultimate cause of his extended absence.
“Why is your guy not playing?” The last few times we have talked, Preston has sounded stressed but he doesn’t share much about what’s going on with baseball. Instead choosing to focus his time on me and me alone. I like that he cares so much but I want to be his support too. I tried to bring it up with my dad but he shut me down. It seems both he and Preston are good at compartmentalizing. I can only hope that Preston’s lack of playing time is not because of me.
“I have no idea.” The camera pans over to show Preston hanging over the dugout. His hair is a mess from him running his fingers through it. He may look relaxed for the camera, but I know better. The pinch between his brow and his clenched fists tell me he’s pissed. I’ve never seen this side of him. When the camera moves to my dad in the dugout next, I see why. “Holy shit.”
“What?” Gabby turns her head to look at me.
“You have got to be kidding me! There’s no way.”
“What?!” Gabby throws her hands up gesturing for me to spit it out.
“That,” I say, pointing to the screen.
The camera is back on the dugout filming what appears to be an exchange between my dad and Preston after the second baseman misses an easy throw to first. They aren't next to each other or even face to face, but their mouths are both moving. My dad says something that causes Preston to push up from his relaxed stance. When he spins toward my dad and points at him, dread and guilt gnaw at me. I really hope this isn’t because of me.
“What the hell is going on? Are they fighting?”
“It looks like it. Preston hasn’t said anything to me about things being this bad.” I frown when the broadcast announcerspick up on the tension and start comparing Preston’s stats with the new guy.
“With those stats, there is no reason Preston should not be playing tonight.” Gabby grimaces beside me. “Did you know about this new guy?” He was apparently called up as soon as the Tides were able to change the roster after the bargaining agreement was reached.
I shake my head. “No, Preston hasn’t told me about this.”
When I talk to him later, I will get to the bottom of this. That niggling feeling of distrust in the recesses of my brain tries to cast doubt on why Preston might be keeping this from me.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Preston
Miller starts texting me as soon as I get back to the hotel. We can’t talk about my playing time, orlackof playing time, in the locker room with everyone else around.
MILLER
That was a bullshit call and you know it.
PRESTON
I know, man.
There’s nothing I can do about it.
MILLER
Candelabra has no business at second base. He can’t catch a ball worth shit.
I shake my head at Miller’s intentional use of the wrong name.
PRESTON
