Me: Too late. Do you have a date, or should I prepare my speech for the game today? Don’t worry, I won’t bring up the Star Wars action-figure collection just yet. I’ll leave that up to you.
Future Hall Of Famer: Don’t test me, Bree. But to answer your question, YES I FOUND MY OWN DATE!!
Me: It isn’t Jett’s sister again, is it?
Future Hall Of Famer: And if it is?
Me: Then you’re going to have to explain that collection to a fan in the middle of a busy Wendy’s.
Future Hall Of Famer: Harsh. No, it isn’t Jackie. You don’t have to be so jealous, honey pot. You’re my main squeeze.
Me: She’s a user, Finn.
I rereadthe messages we sent earlier today and scowl again, feeling that familiar protective burn spark in my chest. Jackie isn’t a present problem, but she was a very big pain in the past. You’d think that being Jett’s sister, she’d share his kindness and humour, but it’s the opposite. She’s a bratty, spoiled little monster with a kink for bringing Finn into her life for a few weeks and encouraging him to spend thousands of dollars on her before crawling back through Hell’s gates.
It’s been two years since the last time they got together, but clearly, I still haven’t let it go.
“Another one!” Brielle cheers, popping up out of her seat.
Wes’ sister and my closest girlfriend took the outside seat today and nearly swats the popcorn belonging to the dude beside her out of his hands. Wearing a green jersey with her brother’s number on the back, she claps excitedly, leading the cheers in our section.
Deep cherry-coloured hair skims the tops of her shoulders. The twin bright red highlights graze her cheeks and light up beneath the sun, drawing multiple sets of eyes toward her for reasons beyond her genuine happiness. She’s shorter than I am by a few inches but could go round for round with me if we’re talking vocal sparring.
“Yay, Uncle Finn!”
The young, high-pitched voice comes from my left. It belongs to the adorable eight-year-old girl whom I’ve come to love wholeheartedly. Sara’s on my other side, sitting on the big stadium seat with her legs swinging over the edge and a bag ofblue and pink cotton candy in her lap. Jett will probably ream me out for letting her eat the whole thing, but I like to consider this payback for sticking me on recon duty today.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t take that away for now?”
I lean back and look past Sara to the woman sitting awkwardly beside her. The new babysitter—Jasmine—is no older than nineteen, if I had to guess. She seems nice enough, and someone clearly vetted her well enough to watch Jett’s daughter on her own, but I think her age is the real issue here. Other than being able to stay up later and not needing a solid ten hours of sleep to avoid waking up half-dead in the morning, being young isn’t doing her any favours. Or at least, I’m blaming her naivety and lack of experience on her age.
It’s not like any of the guys down on the field walk around with a security team. Jasmine needs to be Sara’s protector when we’re somewhere like this, and I caught her letting go of her hand in a crowd twice on the way to our seats. I’ve been on edge with her ever since, always second-guessing her and making sure I’ve got a good hold on the little girl so she can’t slip away.
Looking at Sara, I smile to myself when she rips off another huge chunk of cotton candy and shoves it into her mouth. Her cheeks bulge as her palm meets her lips and stays there while she swallows.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll take the heat if Jett gets mad,” I say, knowing that he won’t. Not once he sees his daughter’s smile.
The babysitter fidgets a bit in her seat and reaches behind her head to tighten the strap of her baseball cap. “I still don’t know . . .”
“It’s fine. This isn’t the thing you should be worrying so much about.”
“Look!” Sara exclaims, tugging at the short sleeve of my Avery jersey. “Another no-hitter. Good job, Uncle Finn!”
Finally, I let my eyes wander back to the field. And there he is, celebrating with the guys on the mound. My stomach tightens when I realize I missed his last few throws. It doesn’t linger when Sara steals my attention again with a loud yell in his direction.
From back here, none of the guys can hear her, but I’m not going to be the one to tell that to her. Although she’s only eight, she grew up with baseball, having spent most of her life in clubhouses and on the very field her dad is walking across right now. Her interest has been there since the moment she was born, and I think it might be the cutest thing in the world watching her sit here so enamoured by the game.
Brielle sits back down in her seat and crosses her long, toned legs. “Do you think your dad will get another home run tonight, Sara?”
“One more for sure. He hasn’t gotten on base since the second.”
I twist my lips to hide a smile. “You should give him a hard time about that after the game.”
“I will. He’s been swinging at the dirt too many times.”
“Geesh. Harsh critic, SareBear,” Brielle teases, reaching over my lap to pinch her thigh. “We’ll need to make sure he knows we were cheering lots for Finn, hmm?”
Sara nods quickly. “I hope he knows he’s playing soooo good.”
