Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Dad and I walk back to the house. The old man finally admitted he had a cramp and then jokingly said the cramp was me. Once we enter my neighborhood, he brings up the contract.
“I can’t tell you what to do because I bailed on this part of my life, but if Portland is where you want to be, push for it. If it’s not, leave. Don’t wait for them to show you they care. If they did, you wouldn’t be going through this right now.”
I nod. He’s not wrong. Neither is Peyton. Deep down, I know the reason I want Portland is because of her. I don’t want to be away from her. Right now, I have the best of both worlds. When we travel, she goes with us. If I’m with another team, she’ll be home, taking care of our baby. Sure, she can go to the away games, but will she? It’s hard to say.
We’re standing at the edge of my driveway when I blurt out, “What if I quit?”
Dad’s eyes bug out. “What?”
Shrugging, I look down at the ground and toe a loose pebble. “The Stars want me,” I tell him. “They’ve asked me to come in, throw a few.”
“You know you can do both,” he tells me. “Bo Jackson and Deion Sanders played football and baseball successfully.”
“I’ve researched them. Game film, that sort of thing. I’m interested,” I say. “I miss baseball. I never thought I would, and I think I only pursued football because there was an opening at Notre Dame, and I could walk on. I never gave baseball a second look.”
Dad rests his hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Maybe we should hit the batting cages and see if you still have some heat before you go out there, embarrassing yourself. Some of these kids these days are smoking the ball in.”
“Like Mack.”
My dad laughs. “Definitely like Mack. That boy is going places.”
“He’s fun to watch.”
We go inside and find Peyton sitting on the couch, reading the book I’d suggested she stop. She works herself up over things that may or may not happen to her. When she hears us, she looks up, closes her book, and comes toward us. I hold my arms out for her, but my wife goes to my dad first. I don’t even bother to try and stop my eyes from rolling.
“Ouch,” I say to them as they hug like long lost friends. “You guys suck.”
Dad snickers.
They follow me into the kitchen. I go to the sink, turn the water on and let it run for a second under the filter before filling my glass. My wife’s arms wrap around my waist. My free hand instantly finds hers. Once I finish drinking, I turn in her arms, glide the back of my fingers under her cheek to lift her face to mine and kiss her.
“How did it go?”
“Okay,” she tells me. “Preliminary results say I’m a good candidate, but I’ll know more once the scans are read.”
“Shots next then?”
She nods. “Then extraction.”
I lean down and kiss her again. “Then a baby.”
She nods and I kiss her again, not caring that my dad is in the room. He can deal. I need my wife to know I am with her, her constant support. I’ll be her cheerleader no matter what, even when I know there could be a time when I’ll want to beg her to stop. She’ll never know the fear I have deep within, or how I feel about the things her body puts her through because of me.
Those secrets will go with me to the grave.
5
PEYTON
“Hey, P.”
I turn at the sound of Elle’s voice. She finds me on the lower portion of our patio, where Noah has built a fire pit, curled under a blanket. There’s a fire burning, but I’m still chilly. In my hand, a glass of wine. I poured it, thinking this would be my last for a while and yet I haven’t touched it. I can’t seem to lift the glass to my lips to taste the sweet, berried drink.
“Hey.” I uncurl and move so my sister can sit next to me. “What are you doing here?”
Elle sighs. Something’s on her mind. She leans into me, wrapping her arm around mine. “Do you ever wonder how we got so lucky?”
A small chuckle escapes me. “Is that what you call this?”
She nods against my shoulder. “Our lives could’ve been vastly different . . .”
Elle doesn’t need to finish her thought. She’s right. Our lives could’ve been different. Hers at least. I feel in my heart I would’ve married Noah regardless. Would we be as well off as we are? Possibly not. But he could’ve still gone to the NFL or even Major League Baseball. He had options.
Who or what we wouldn’t have is Harrison, the man who stepped up and brought two five-year-old’s into his life and treated us as his own from the beginning. He’s never once let anyone believe we weren’t his daughters. And he’s never been jealous of our father. He took his last name so we’d all match. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell him, in all those mushy Father’s Day cards that he means the world to me, he truly does.