Take a risk, my inner voice says. “Dinner will be perfect. But first, you need to tell me about yourself.”
Our waitress is back with the check, but Hawk tells her we’re not done and wants to see the dessert menu. I glance at my watch and see we’ve been here for almost two hours. It’s getting late and the boys have school tomorrow. I’m about to tell him this when he starts talking.
“I’m the middle child. I have two sisters. My oldest, Elizabeth who you went to school with, she’s married to her high school sweetheart, Warner, who loathes me. He’s probably sitting on my parent’s porch with a shotgun, waiting for Nolan to come home, but that’s a story for another day. My sister Avery has twins, they freak me out.”
I can’t help but laugh when he shudders. “Why?”
“I don’t know. They’re identical in every way. The way they walk, talk, look. They have a freaky twin language and they scare me. I love them, but they give me the heebie-jeebies. Anyway, my parents are still married. My mom takes care of the ranch hands, does some photography, is my biggest fan, and does some crafting on top of being the best grandma in the world. I know this because she has the coffee mug to prove it. My dad is a hardworking rancher who inherited the ranch from my grandfather. And then there’s me — the semi-disappointment, but not really — son.”
“What do you mean?”
He clears his throat and takes a drink of soda. “My dad wanted me to be a rancher. My mom, she’s the dreamer. There’s no doubt in my mind that she wears the pants, but my dad can be a real hard ass sometimes. He was never fond of me playing baseball, which I get, but supported me, nonetheless. I was awarded a full-ride to the University of Utah and by my junior year I had been drafted by the Renegades.”
“In Boston?” I clarify.
“Yep. Finished my first semester of my senior year, went to spring training, spent a few months in AAA and then I was called up.” He stops and looks at me. “AAA is one level below where I’m playing now.”
“Which is the top of league . . . yes?”
“Yeah, exactly. Anyway, that’s my life. I love my family, love my teammates. I’m doing what I love in a great city. . . ”
“But something’s missing?”
His eyes dart up, meeting mine. “How did you know?”
I shrug. “Women’s intuition and all that. I feel the same way sometimes. I love my career, I love my son, but there are times when I’m sitting there with this gaping hole and I don’t know what I should do to fill it.”
“I didn’t feel it until I came back here.”
“You don’t come home often, I take it?”
Hawk picks up a discarded straw wrapper and starts rolling it between his fingers. “It’s hard with my dad, brothers-in-law and the ranch. There’s a lot of guilt. I take my parents on vacation to spend time with them and avoid coming home . . . well, mostly my mom because my dad doesn’t want to leave. When I had surgery, they were both there though. My mom made me come back here to rehab.”
“Would you rather be in Boston right now?”
“No, I’m perfectly content sitting right across from you at this very moment, Bellamy.”
It’s the way he says my name that sends shivers down my spine. I’m waiting for him to laugh or tell me he’s just kidding, but he doesn’t. He studies me. For what, I don’t know, but his intense gaze is penetrating, digging deep for whatever he’s seeking. I think I’m seeking the same thing.
Fifteen
Hawk
This being up before the sun stuff has to stop. I’ve never been a fan of taking pills, especially something that could cause an addiction, and the only form of pain relief I’m taking now is ibuprofen and aspirin. However, I’d like to sleep at least one night without tossing and turning, without thoughts weighing heavily on my mind, and without wondering if I’m going to have
a spot on the Renegades when I return from rehab. Sure, I have a contract, but those are easily pushed aside for the newer, stronger, healthier pitchers coming up the ranks. My agent says I have nothing to worry about, but it’s his job to say those things. I have everything to worry about.
Of course, after last night’s dinner date, I was worried about something completely unrelated and spent hours surfing social media for anything I can find on Bellamy Patrick. When I met her yesterday, I was intrigued. Mostly because she was traipsing through a mud pit and had no idea where she was. It was never my intention to scare her, but I was honestly afraid she was going to walk right into the barbed wire fence and hurt herself. And last night . . . well that couldn’t have worked out any better for me. From the moment I saw her and her son, I knew I would’ve done anything to have them join us for dinner.
I finally give up on sleep and walk across my room to look out the window, which faces our backyard. There were so many times while growing up that I’d climb out and sit on the roof of the porch. This was where I practiced what I was going to say to my dad when I decided to pursue baseball in college and not something that would benefit the ranch. Although, in a way, my career has actually done so. Over the years, I’ve gifted my parents with payments on taxes, new vehicles, or the latest and best farm equipment. I may not be working the fields, herding the cattle, or wrangling horses but I’m definitely contributing.
When my teen years hit and girls became my second priority, I’d bring them up here at night to star gaze. Back then, I thought I was smooth and was deemed a player because I was never serious about anyone in particular. I’d wait for girls to ask me out, mostly because there wasn’t one particular girl who held all my attention — or as one of my sisters would say, it was because I had to play the entire field. It was, and still is, their lame attempt at a pun.
The sky is as black as can be and the only illumination is coming from the barn. If I strain, I can see shadows moving around, and I can definitely hear muffled voices. Around here, work starts before the sun rises and ends after sunset. The days are long, often cold, and can drag on during the summer. Some of the people that work here have done so for years. My parents do their best to keep their employees happy but working on a ranch is hard work and not for the faint of heart.
As I did the day before, I decide to take Cadbury out for another ride. It’s not always the wisest to ride off under the cloak of darkness, but it’s really the only time I can clear my head. After I dress, I head downstairs and find my mother sitting at the kitchen table.
“Morning,” I say as I enter the room. On the table is a breakfast spread of sausage, eggs, biscuits, and gravy. Instead of eating, I pour myself the last cup of coffee in the pot and proceed to change and fill the filter with new grounds and the reservoir with water. I’m not about to have my dad or anyone else yell at me for taking the last cup.