"I saw that," I told him. "You got lucky."
Kevin crossed his arms over his chest. He had definitely filled out since we played together in the minors. That might have had more to do with what his husband was feeding him though. The guy was a professional chef.
"Seriously, though," he said. "You killed us."
"Don't be too down about it. Your team is great."
He shrugged. "Yours is better. I'm happy for you, dude."
"You want to join us for a drink?" Miguel offered. "There's a great spot up in Marietta. Best empanadas you'll ever have."
That was high praise coming from Miguel, whose mom shipped him homemade empanadas by the dozen. "Does yourmamitaknow you're dissing her cooking like that?"
"WhatMamitadoesn't know won't kill her."
We laughed. It was like no time had passed, like just yesterday the two of us had been sitting on the floor of a shitty hotel room, eating microwaveable ramen and stale empanadas.
"Yeah, just let me check with the guys—"
I turned over my shoulder toward the dugout, expecting to find a teammate or two. What I hadn't prepared for was the sheer panic that set in when I found Clarke pacing on the sideline, crying into her phone.
"Hold that thought," I told my friends, already rushing to her side.
I leaped over the short wall separating the stands from the field just as she disconnected her call.
"Clarke, hey." She spun toward me, shaking. "Baby, what's wrong?"
"My sister . . ."
"Vivian?" I pressed when she trailed off. She nodded. "Is she okay? Is the baby okay?"
From what I knew, Vivian was eight or so months along, so I hoped she wasn't having any complications.
"She's in labor!" she blurted out. "She and Ellie were supposed to come down for today's game, but they never showed. My phone died halfway through the third inning, so I just now got their messages, and I don't know what to do. I don't know—"
She choked back another sob. I pulled her into my chest and rubbed my hands up and down her back.
"Breathe, baby. Breathe."
I took a deep breath in through my nose and held it for a beat before exhaling. I did this over and over until her breathing matched my own and her pulse settled back to a near-resting rate.
I kissed her forehead. "What do you need?"
She pulled her head away from my neck. I wiped a stray tear from her cheek.
"I need to get to Asheville. I need to be there for her and Ellie."
"Okay," I said, nodding vigorously. "Stay put for a second."
I wanted to tell her that she could have it all. That anything she wanted, needed, I would make it happen. Even if it meant piloting the team's bus myself or arranging for the world's most expensive Lyft ride. There was a third option . . .
I raced back over to Kevin and Miguel.
"Kev, do you still drive the Mustang?"
"You've got to be kidding," he said, rolling his eyes. "Ty made me trade it in after we adopted Nina. You're looking at the proud owner of a Honda Odyssey now."
Imagine that. "Cocky Kevin" drives a minivan.
