Grand Slam (The Boys of Summer 3)

At some point during the night, Saylor leaves me on the couch. The house is quiet, and the fireplace is still glowing, letting off enough heat to keep me warm. With the quilt wrapped around my shoulders, I walk over to one of her two floor-to-ceiling windows and look out over the city. While Boston isn’t Vegas or New York City, we still have the ambience of a city that never sleeps. Lights dance off each other, guiding early morning travelers to their destinations while off on the horizon, the sun is starting to rise, and horns blow in the harbor as boats prepare for their day’s journey.

My arm brushes their Christmas tree, and my fingers pull on the needles. It’s fake, but who cares? The fact that she has one up speaks volumes. It’s been years since I’ve even seen a tree, because I spend most of my Christmases on my parents’ yacht in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. I reach down and plug the tree in. It sparkles as the white lights glow throughout Saylor’s quaint living room. Compared to my house, her apartment is small, but I feel more at ease here than I do in my own. I can feel the love that has been poured into this place to make it a home.

Above the fireplace, Lucy’s school picture is front and center. Her toothless grin is contagious, and I find myself smiling back at her. I pick up another framed photo and run my thumb over Saylor’s face. She and Lucy are posing with a reenactment solider, and they look happy. And I want that. I want to be a part of something where love is given unconditionally.

I look back at what became my makeshift bed and notice my jeans are folded and resting on the arm of the couch, and my shoes are sitting on the floor next to it. I should dress and leave before Saylor wakes, but I want to see her. I want to be part of their morning routine and see if I can fit in with them. It’s selfish of me to stay, but I need the normalcy. It’s also presumptuous to think that someday I’ll be here permanently, but I have hope. And right now I need a lot of hope to get me through the day.

I dress quickly, shocked to find that my jeans aren’t stiff like cardboard, and slip my shoes back on. Folding the blanket, I slip it under the sofa to ward off any ideas that Lucy might have about me being here and pull my phone out to order breakfast. It’s the least I can do for Saylor after she opened her home to me.

Once I have breakfast laid out, it’s only a matter of time before they both wake up. After I ordered, I stood in her doorway with the door cracked, waiting for the deliveryman. The last thing I wanted was for him to knock and wake either of them. Not only was Saylor up late with me, but it also probably would’ve scared the shit out of her.

The aroma of the pancakes, bacon, sausages, and eggs makes my stomach growl. I rush to the couch and turn on the television when I hear a door open. I don’t know who it is, but I’m hoping that whoever comes around the corner is happy to see me. I try to keep my eyes focused on the news, but I can’t. I’m watching the doorway like a hawk.

“I expected you to be gone when I woke up,” Saylor says as she ties the belt of her bathrobe into a knot. The sight of her in a fluffy robe to ward off the chill really turns me on. Who would’ve thought that thick winter wear would be a turn-on?

“I didn’t want to leave your door unlocked.” It’s a lie, but a good one.

“Oh,” she says, looking at the door. Is that my cue to leave? Probably, but I was acting dense, like I wasn’t following.

“I took the liberty of ordering breakfast for you and Lucy.” I point over to her island where mounds of takeout containers sit. “It’s a peace offering for letting me stay the night.”

Now would be a good time to leave, but instead I stand and go over to the island and open one of the containers. “Do you want me to fix you a plate?”

“No; you need to leave before Lucy wakes up.”

I nod, knowing this. I close the container and make my way toward her. She steps back, shutting me out in an instant. “Thank you for last night, Saylor,” I say. I want to kiss her goodbye or at least feel the softness of her cheek against my fingertips. As slowly as I can, I head to the door, knowing that she’s following me. She unlocks it as I slip on my jacket.

“Will I see you later?”

She nods but doesn’t make eye contact with me. I sigh and step out of her apartment. She shuts the door, and then I’m met with a series of noises indicating she’s locked it. I rest my hand on the thick piece of wood and imagine she’s doing the same, even though I have a feeling she’s not. After a long minute, I make my way down the hall only to realize that I’ve forgotten my hat. In an instant, I’m back at her door and knocking.

“What?” she asks, opening her door in a huff.

“I forgot my hat.”

She steps away, leaving her door open and giving me a chance to watch her walk around. Lucy appears in the hallway, claiming that she’s starving and asking her mom what smells so good. I can’t help but smile because I know that I did that.

Saylor freezes when she sees Lucy. She looks back at me, to my hat in her hand, and to her daughter. Saylor quickly stuffs my hat into her pocket before facing her daughter.

“Hi,” Lucy says, giving me a small wave. She’s dressed in a light-blue nightgown with a princess on the front, and her hair is a crazy mess of brown locks.

“Hey, Lucy. Do you remember me?” I’ve had the privilege of meeting Lucy a few times during the Renegade family functions or when Jeffrey has a party and invites me. I’ve also seen her in the stands, stuf

fing her face with pink cotton candy and pretending to give a shit about baseball.

She shrugs and walks toward the door, but her mother stops her before she gets too close. “Maybe. What’s your name?”

“Travis,” I tell her. “I’m on the baseball team.”

Lucy pretends to think about it, which makes me laugh. Little kids are the cutest, and honestly I wish we had more of them around. I’m looking forward to Cooper Bailey’s twins being older so I can play with them. Right now they sleep, eat, and shit, and when they aren’t doing any one of those three things, they cry.

“Oh yeah—I remember. Do you want to have breakfast with us? We’re having…” She pauses and looks up at her mom. “What are we having, Mom?”

“Um…”

“Breakfast sounds great. I’m starved.” It’s evil, and I know Saylor will kill me for it, but I invite myself back into their home. I take off my jacket and hang it on the hook next to Lucy’s. Seeing it there reaffirms my desire to be in Saylor’s life. I know it’s random to think of myself as part of their little family, but I want to. I want to feel secure, loved, and needed. I also know in order to do that, especially where Saylor is concerned, I need to get my shit together and stop acting like a college kid with a walking fucking hard-on all the time. She deserves better.

Lucy meets me halfway and walks me toward the kitchen. I know better than to look at Saylor, because if I do, I’ll see how angry she is. I know I should’ve told Lucy no, but who in their right mind can say that word to a little girl who looks like a miniature version of the woman you want to get to know? Hell, maybe I can find a way into Lucy’s heart, and Saylor will open up to me.