Dirty Curve

Well, that’s a wrap for us at the Inquirer. See you next school year, Sharks!

EPILOGUE

Two Years Later

Tobias

Echo pops to his feet, glancing back at the umpire before jogging his way to me.

The batter shakes his head, stepping away from the plate, gripping the barrel of his bat with a hilarious amount of anger.

I jerk my chin as he approaches the mound, and my boy grins.

He lifts his glove up to hide his lips. “Just needed a quick stretch.” He laughs, glancing around at the sold-out stadium. “Fuck, son, this shit’s wild.”

“Told you you’d like the new view.”

“Aye, it only took me two seasons to get here.” Echo shows his smirk. “You think the man who signed my check is happy now?”

“Not yet.” I cut a quick glance toward the visiting teams dugout. “We promised him a Championship.”

“That we did.” E lowers his chin, looking me dead in the eye. “We gonna give it to him?”

Thrill fires down my spine, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand.

This is fucking it.

This is the pinnacle of the game.

Of my game.

I’ve already got the world to go home too, now it’s time to bring home the dream.

I lift a single brow. “You gonna give me what I want?”

“You gonna let me choose where we go for dinner tonight?” he counters.

A quick laugh escapes and I nod at my best friend. “Let me end this shit quick, and you got it.”

“Curveball it is my man.” He slaps my sleeve, moving back to his spot.

I stretch my neck, spinning the ball in my palm, and flick my eyes up to the seats right behind the batter’s box, where my family sits watching.

When I signed my contract, my agent secured me a box at the top, a private suite cased in with glass, and AC, but Meyer has yet to take advantage of the perk. She wants to be in the exact spot I first told her I wanted her. And so far, for every home game we’ve had, she has been, weather be damned. She’s got Milo to thank for that one. He loves the damn box and goes into babysitter mode quick so long as he has access to it. It’s a sweet trade, and the man never misses a game either. Meyer wasn’t kidding when she said he wants to be there for her. The semester after she moved here, he was right behind her, and I couldn’t have been more thankful.

My job takes me all over, so knowing she has him when I’m gone makes this job possible. He’s a huge part of the reason I’m able to perform the way I do, because I know, no matter what, my girl has someone looking out for her.

The move to Florida has been good to us, and the Miami Marlins have been, too.

They treat me well, and the press surrounding my name nowadays is nothing but an honor.

They talk about the game and my future in it, wagering it’ll be a long one right here in Sun Life Stadium.

I’m a damn angel in their eyes, and with my next six pitches, I’ll be their fucking God, too.

With one last look at my wife, I get myself set.

I take a deep breath, and then it’s on.

I’m about to win The World fucking Series.

q

Meyer

When I was little and imagined my life, I saw me and Milo living next door to each other, our mom in a small house on the back of one of our places. I hoped to meet a man who would come home and want to kiss me like the couples did in the movies. He’d set his briefcase on the table near the door and untie his tie as he made his way to me.

I’d have dinner waiting and our kids would be well mannered and excited to talk to us about their day.

But here I am, a year out of college and my life is nothing like I pictured.

It’s so much more.

Yes, Milo lives twenty miles away, but that’s nothing on a Florida highway, and I see him no less than three out of seven days of the week. And while my mom can’t be with us, I like to think she’s near, that her ashes rode the waves off the coast of California to Miami’s shoreline, as if she found her way to us.

I did find the man, or more, he found me, but he doesn’t own a briefcase and complains when he has to wear a tie.

But he does wear a black baseball hat pulled low like no other.

He kisses me when he gets home, and everywhere else for that matter.

I don’t have dinner ready when he gets home because my man likes to be a part of every aspect of our lives, and meals are no different. As for well-mannered children, well, I’m not even sure what that means.