Swing and a Mishap (Summersweet Island 2)

This past week has been fun, poking at Wren, driving her crazy, and forcing her to acknowledge me, even if it’s just to insult me, but that’s all I’ve been doing. Driving her crazy and just adding one more thing to her plate that she has to deal with. She still has to deal with me, but maybe it’s time I make it a little easier to do so. Starting with making her life a little easier.

“I know it’s not your mom’s fault,” I tell him softly, getting out of my golf cart and rounding the front of it until I’m standing right in front of Owen. Bending down, I grab the handle from the bucket of balls and heft it up. “You have a pretty awesome mom. She reminds me of my mom. And my mom would have absolutely kicked my ass, whether she was busy or not, if I didn’t call her for a ride home.”

Owen’s eyes finally meet mine, and for the first time in a week, they aren’t filled with nerves when he talks to me as he grins.

“Yeah. She’d totally kick my ass if she knew I walked two miles home.”

Both of us laughing, Owen follows me to the cart, tossing his bag into the large, heavy-duty plastic cargo box attached to the back that turns my cart into a sort of makeshift pick-up truck, while I lift the bucket up over the edge and set it down inside.

Not wanting him to get all quiet and nervous around me, I don’t waste a second keeping up the conversation as we get in the front of the cart and I pull away from the curb.

“Thanks for all your help getting the guys to focus and start practice every night.”

Owen just shrugs. “I’m glad to help. They’re so ridiculous wanting you to sign all their stuff and take a hundred selfies with you.” He snorts, quickly looking away when I meet his eyes.

Thankfully, the sun set an hour ago and the handful of streetlights we pass as I whiz down the street aren’t bright enough for him to see my grin.

“I finally finished unpacking all of my stuff from Washington, and I found an extra shirt and jersey they printed from the last series I was in that I already signed and must have forgotten to give to anyone. And Rawlings just sent me a brand new S100 Pro Comp batting helmet with the aerospace-grade composite fiber shell. Remember those collectors-edition hats for the 100th anniversary of the Hawks that they only made 100 of? I saw one or two of those in one of the boxes. I don’t really need any of that stuff. I could give it to you, but if you don’t want it….”

“Oh my God, yes!” Owen shouts, his head whipping back to me, before quickly clearing his throat and looking all serious again. “I mean… sure, whatever. If you’re just gonna throw it away….”

“Right, right.” I nod, biting down hard on my bottom lip when I feel his eyes staring at my profile as I turn a corner. “Well, it’s all yours.”

“Thanks. That’s really nice of you.”

I’ve been around a lot of teenagers, with charity events on the team and with my own nieces. But I don’t think I’ve ever been around one who always remembers his manners. Wren has raised a fine young man, and it makes me even more determined to do right by her. I had the same freshman coach as Owen did before the guy quit, and he was an asshole and an awful role model. But I only played on the freshman team for a week before I was bumped up to varsity. And my varsity coach was one of the best men I’d ever known aside from my father. He molded me into the player I am today, and taught me that winning isn’t everything. That the game isn’t everything. That the paychecks and the fame will someday disappear, and some day your body won’t let you play this game that you love so much, and some day your heart just won’t be in it, and what are you going to do then?

I want to be that kind of coach to all my players, but especially to the one sitting beside me. Because his mom means more to me than he knows, and not only do I want to fix things between us so I can show her she never has to do things alone ever again, but I want to fix things between us so I can be here to watch Owen grow into the amazing human being and baseball player I’m absolutely confident he’ll be.

Owen points out which cottage is theirs, and I pull into the short driveway in front of the small house right on the beach.