Fuck it.
Let him hate on me too.
“Hey,” I say, leaning into her and kissing her jaw. She’s sweaty, but I don’t give a damn.
Her eyes are wide when I pull back, and her mouth is a hard line.
“What are you doing?” she growls in a whisper.
I scrunch my shoulders and tilt my head, a little thrown that she’s not game for throwing the PDA in my cousin’s face. If he’s part of my uncle’s plans, then he can deal. In fact, he can deal no matter what.
“Zack’s being weird,” she adds.
I glance over her shoulder where my cousin is dragging mats out for hitting on the field. He seems super motivated, especially compared to the half-assed effort he’s put into workouts so far.
“I’ll give you that, yeah,” I agree, picking up my gear and walking with her back to the field. She holds my mitt to justify walking with me.
“Did you talk to your dad?” I ask.
“That’s the thing.”
My head swivels to meet her gaze, and I can tell by the slant to her eyes that something changed.
“Yeah?” I question.
She walks close to me as we enter the dugout, constantly scanning to make sure we’re alone enough for her to share details. She nods to Roland and I study him while he pulls his water jug to his mouth and chugs. He laughed at her this morning, which speaks volumes about his character. Would I have been different? I like to think so but honestly, probably not.
Hollis waits for him to jog out to the base path to help Zack unroll the mats. Not wasting a second of our time out of earshot, she leans over the back of the bench and looks me in the eyes.
“Coach Gage told my dad he’s going to have to retire. Said he and the wife bought an RV and plan to visit the grandkids in California. He’s done after tryouts.”
We blink at one another while I digest the new information and form an opinion. I’m not sure what to make of it, and I can tell neither is she. One thing is certain: the school won’t be able to count on Coach Gage to fill a last minute coaching vacancy this close to tryouts. It means we have time, though I’m not sure how much. My uncle works quickly, and secretly. He’s good at making connections; part of his slick marketing savvy.
We make a pact to play along, to play dumb and let Zack lead out here. Giving him a little bit of authority might be a good way to reach him, but my gut says we have to play this careful.
Hollis warms up my arm and we spend the next hour and a half taking live at-bats. About a dozen players show up, and between Roland and me, we throw a good eighty pitches. The rest of the at-bats are taken off the tee or the machine, which must be about as old as the clubhouse. The metal plates are warped, which makes every fifth pitch come out a little wild. One buzzes my cousin’s head, and as he collapses to his ass and tosses his bat to the center of the field, I brace myself for him to think Hollis did it on purpose, simply because she dropped a ball into the feeder.
“Damn, girl. You trying to mimic Cannon’s pitches with that thing?” My cousin gets to his feet and claps the dirt from his hands, his laughter pulling up his cheeks into a huge smile. It’s as if he’s a pod person. Or knows his initial plan with my uncle fell through.
Maybe it’s both.
“That my nephew all grown up taking hacks out there?” My dad’s voice is like salve for a wound I didn’t realize I was nursing. Damn, I’ve missed him.
“Uncle Mike!” My cousin tosses his bat to the ground and jogs around one side of the backstop while I saunter around the other.
Zack’s strong enough now to pick my father up, and he does. For a moment, watching them embrace, I soak in the genuine laughter and slaps on the back with big hugs. I forget that I have a lot of shit to catch my dad up on when it comes to my uncle and cousin. I keep that pushed to the side a little longer as my dad lets go of Zack’s neck and opens his arms wide to me. It’s been a few long months since we’ve seen each other in real life. Video chats just aren’t the same.
“Hey, Dad,” I say through an earnest grin.
“Come here, kiddo.” He tugs on the shoulder of my shirt and we fall into a warm embrace, his large hand slapping against my shoulder blade while mine does the same. He’s been calling me kiddo since I could understand language. It’s nice to know that some things you don’t grow out of.
“I got in a few hours early and figured I’d come find you in your element.” He steps back and to the side, giving me a good view of my truck. It’s filthy from its trip across the country, but damn, I’m almost as glad to see my wheels as I am my pops.
“I’m guessing you’re gonna need my help unloading that?” I gesture toward the full load tied down with ropes in the back of the truck.
“Well, since most of that is yours—”
“Like hell it is. That’s Mom’s shoes and clothes and you know it,” I joke.
We both cough out a good laugh before a brief moment of awkward quiet settles in among all of us. It’s in this beat, right now, that I remember how messed up everything has become, and how much worse I fear it might get.
“Mr. Jennings, it’s nice to meet you,” Hollis says, stepping in next to me. She reaches out her hand for my dad to take. He knows very little about Hollis other than the big picture—we have a girl on our team, she’s good, and Zack doesn’t
