Home Plate (Easton U Pirates 2)

“We might have to put him on the payroll,” Dad said, and Maclain chuckled as I followed him out of the office.

We stood there awkwardly for a long moment, and then he said, “Well, I’m gonna head out.”

“You sure?” I asked, trying to stall for time. “You’re free to hang out.”

“I think I overstayed my welcome.”

“Not at all.”

We did that staring thing again, and my stomach was going a bit crazy.

“Thank you,” Maclain said.

“For what?”

“For…” He faltered briefly before squaring his shoulders. “For tonight.”

I watched as he walked out the door, marveling at what he could possibly mean. Except, maybe his dinner with his dad and the new girlfriend could explain it.

When I made it back to the counter, Mom was looking at me funny. “What?”

“Nothing. I like your friend,” she said, then frowned. “He has a lot going on inside him.”

“Yeah, I’d have to agree.”

She arched a brow. “He could use a friend.”

I sighed. “I try, but he doesn’t make it easy.”

“The bloody nose?”

“It was an accident.”

“No doubt, but…”

“But?” What was Mom getting at, exactly?

Guess I’d never find out since right then Gemma bounced up to the counter. “Where did Mason go?” she asked with a pout. “I was going to ask him to play air hockey again.”

I motioned with my thumb. “He had to go home.”

She slid onto a seat at the counter and placed her chin on her hand. “He’s dreamy.”

“No, Gemma,” Mom and I warned in unison.

Gemma scoffed. “What, I’m not allowed to think a guy is cute?”

“Not my teammate.” The idea of my sister crushing on him made me nauseous.

“You look for boys your own age to crush on,” Mom cautioned as she pulled a box of condiments from under the counter.

Gemma’s gaze swung to a couple of high schoolers bowling on lane nine. “But they’re all so gawky and awkward.”

Mom chuckled. “Oh, Gemma, you’re a handful. Just you wait.”

“Wait for what?” she asked with a frown.

“For someone to catch up with you.” She reached out and squeezed her cheek. “Then you won’t know what hit you.”

I stared toward the exit, thinking of Maclain and understanding the sentiment.

“I don’t think I believe you,” Gemma whined.

“Someone will come along at the right time and when you least expect it.”

My gaze snapped to Mom, but she was already humming to herself as she refilled the mustard.

15

Maclain

Last night, caving into the pressure from the team and, of course, Jasmine, I made a few dozen cookies for the bake sale. It was the only thing I could think of to get my mind off the surprise text from Dad.

We need to talk.

Anytime.

I’ll call soon.

After responding, I launched myself into a bit of a baking frenzy instead of worrying about what the hell sounded so urgent. Even my roommates didn’t know what’d come over me.

The cookies were selling like hotcakes this afternoon in the student center, but that didn’t keep the guys from ribbing me about it.

“We have a regular Betty Crocker on the team,” Devers quipped as he tried to stuff another cookie in his mouth before I moved the plate away.

“That’s gonna cost you double.”

Kellan, who was keeping track of the money, held out his hand. “Cough it up.”

“Hey.” Hollister thumped me on the shoulder as Devers dug into his wallet to pay. “I’m spreading the word that the team is welcome to our place tonight for pizza and the ball game.”

“Sounds good,” I replied, knowing that most of the guys were looking forward to watching the Reds play the Cardinals.

Donovan nodded a bit warily. Still such a Goody Two-shoes. Our team captain was normally pretty careful about getting sloshed during the season—Coach’s rules and all—but Kellan seemed to be helping him loosen up a bit where that was concerned. Thank fuck for that.

Once the bake sale ended, I drove to the grocery store with my roommates to pick up beer and snacks. When my cell rang with the call from my stepdad, I stepped outside to take it.

“What’s going on?”

“I wanted to give you a heads-up about my upcoming trip with Nina.”

“You already told me about it at dinner, remember?”

“Yes, of course. It’s just…” There was this long pause that made my gut churn, and I just knew something big was coming. “I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

I’d anticipated Dad getting serious about one of the women he dated over the years. What I didn’t predict was how it would rock me to my core. And he felt some sort of way about it too, given the caution in his tone. Emotional, or more likely, bummed for me. Maybe he’d finally want to talk about Mom—as a sort of closure—after he’d avoided the topic for so long. There I went again, having too many expectations.

“I…I thought you said it wasn’t serious.” My voice sounded scratchy and juvenile, like I was still a kid trying to make sense of my life—and my loss. But what other reason would we have to officially meet? I should’ve been grateful he was at least giving me a heads-up.