Hawk
I’ve never been what my friends call smooth when it comes to women. Sometimes I fumble over my words, get lost in my thoughts when I’m trying to figure out what to say, or as I’ve proven a few times now with Bellamy, say something completely inappropriate that clearly scares her enough to leave me alone. It’s times like now when I miss my friends the most. They get me, they understand my awkwardness. Hell, they even mock me for it, and I let them because it’s what bros do. Sure, I give back, but I mostly defer to Travis Kidd for his one-liners and follow what he says. Maybe that’s my issue: I’m a follower, and without my team here to support me, I’m lost in translation.
When I see Bellamy walking down the hall, I stand up and try to convey how sorry I am for being a cad. She probably gets hit on all the time, and honestly, I’m surprised she’s single. “I’m sorry,” I say to her as she approaches her desk. “Sometimes, my filter doesn’t work so well.”
“Hawk, you didn’t say anything inappropriate, I . . .” she pauses and looks directly at me. The force of her gaze is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced. It’s like the room is closing in on us, blocking us from the outside word. My tongue feels thick and my breathing is labored, yet I feel like I could run a mile without breaking a sweat . . . but only if she’s running alongside of me. I want to reach out and pull her toward me so I can feel what it’s like to have her pressed against my body, to know what it’s like to feel her skin against mine. Touching her face earlier was nothing more than a tease. I need the full experience.
“Are we still on for dinner?” I ask and she nods.
“I’ll text you my address.” Yes, she remembers that I gave her my number.
“I’ll see you later, Bellamy.” The urge to kiss her goodbye is too great and I back up before I do something I shouldn’t. I should kiss her, at least on her cheek, to see how she’d react. This way, I’d know whether my instincts are right. But not right now. I continue to walk backward until I bump into the door and the chime rings outs. I wave, as if I’m in fifth grade again and Tamara Williams has just invited me to her birthday party. Damn, I remember that day clearly. She walked toward my desk with her crooked smile. When I saw the pink envelope, I knew. I didn’t care if the other boys teased me, I was going to her party — and I did. She was my first kiss, out back behind her big pine tree. Man, I thought I was hot shit back then. Our romance lasted until the end of the school year, although by today’s standards, it wasn’t much of a romance. I chased her around the playground, she and her friends would giggle when my friends and I would walk by, and we’d sit together when we went to the library or for an assembly. The one kiss we shared on her birthday never had a follow-up though, and once baseball season started, I had forgotten all about her.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’ve never been that guy, the one smitten by a pretty lady, and yet, here I am thinking about kissing a woman I’ve known for only twenty-four hours. It’s a damn good thing the guys aren’t here to witness any of this.
Speaking of my teammates — my phone dings with an alert from Travis Kidd. I tap the screen and pull up a video of him along with most of the guys. “Bro, we’re missing you big time. Hope your recovery is going well because we need you. Do you hear me, Hawk? We need you! Call you soon, man. Oh, and don’t be surprised if some of us show up after our West Coast swing.” I replay it a few more times, laughing and feeling a bit more homesick each time it plays. I miss the guys, the team, and the camaraderie. Don’t get me wrong, I love being home with my parents, but there’s something about spending all your time with a group of people who love the same sport you do and who all have the same goal in mind — winning. My mother gets it, but as far as the rest of my family — they just don’t understand.
I open the group chat I have going with the guys and start to type out a message, except I don’t know what to say. Telling them I miss them seems cheesy, but it would be the truth. Instead, I forget about texting and opt to return the video message. I point the camera toward Main Street. “Alright, guys. I thought I’d show you what my small town looks like. As you can see, it’s a don’t blink or you’ll miss it type of place, but it’s still home.” I press the small icon on the screen and flip the camera around. “And as you can also see, I’m still a one-armed bandit, but hopefully I’ll finally be able to fully use my arm next week. I can’t wait to get back to throwing. Talk soon!” I don’t say anything about them coming to visit because if they can swing it, I know they will. Our manager, Wes Wilson, is all about family and if the team has a couple days off, he’ll encourage them to come visit.
“Hawk?”
I press send and turn to find Annie Miller — I mean Larsen — standing behind me, looking nervous. She’s clutching the strap to her purse and her eyes are darting every which way but in my direction. “Hey, Annie.” I go to hug her, but she takes a step back.
She gives me a smile that’s weak at best. “We need to talk, Hawk.”
“Okay?”
“Not here.” She’s looking around nervously, fidgeting with the strap slung over her shoulder and biting her lower lip, doing everything she can to avoid eye contact with me.
“My truck’s right there if you want to go somewhere.” I point behind me, but she shakes her head.
“Do you remember where my grandparents lived?” I nod. “Okay, there’s a dirt road out by the property, meet me there.” Her eyes are still downcast. This is not the Annie I remember.
“Okay.” I watch her walk away, her h
ead still on a swivel, looking for something. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say she’s looking for Brett, but why? It’s not like he doesn’t know we’re friends. As luck would have it, I’m still standing in front of the real estate office and when I glance inside, I swear Bellamy has me under surveillance. That’s an exaggeration, but every which way I look right now, people are staring. Great.
I hop into my truck and head toward the end of town. The Millers used to run a successful cattle ranch back in the day and owned most of the land that surrounded Richfield. Old man Miller liked to gamble and lost everything they owned. He started selling off chunks of land, some even to my family, but once that ran out and their herd was gone, there wasn’t anything left. The bank took their house and the Millers moved in with Annie’s parents. It was our sophomore or junior year when all of this went down and the Millers passed away within months of this all happening. Annie’s family was embarrassed, to say the least. They were the talk of the town for a long time and I often thought that was why Annie stayed with Brett throughout high school. She needed him, not only for comfort but for status. The Larsens are well to do and with Annie dating Brett, it gave her family hope.
Her grandparents also used to have the biggest barn in the area and now, as I drive toward it, I see it’s dilapidated with most of its roof missing, the doors are gone, and it has this eerie haunted look to it. The house doesn’t look much better, with broken windows and moss growing on the roof. “Damn,” I mutter as I pass by.
The dirt road Annie wants to meet on leads into a thicket of woods. The road is bumpy as hell and by the time I approach to her car, my arm is killing me from being rocked back and forth so roughly. I park and get out, walk past Annie’s car to find her standing a few feet away with her back facing me.
“Want to tell me what’s going on and why we’re meeting out in the middle of the woods?”
She turns. Her arms are crossed over her chest. I can tell she’s been crying, but she also looks angry. “You need to leave.”
“I’m sorry?” She just invited me here.
“Hawk, listen to me. You need to go back to Boston and just forget about Richfield.” She steps toward me and that’s when I see a cut above her eye.
“What happened to your eye?”
Annie shies away. “Nothing.”
“Annie, what’s going on? I haven’t seen you in years and you’re acting weird as hell. Can we go sit in my truck . . . or your car . . . and talk?”
“It’s not safe.”