Page 11 of Triple Play

“That’s a pretty long drive,” Shira agrees.

“You’re not coming with us?” The question slips out before I can stop it, but I’m still reeling: she appeared like an apparition—and she might vanish just as quickly.

Shira shakes her head, a swish of her glossy dark hair. Sometimes my fingers would brush the ends of it, and I’d go home thinking about that, and the thrill of her on my lap, and that was enough to get me through the next day at the ballpark.

“I was just going down there for a few days, but have fun driving.” She says the latter skeptically—like she doubts that’s something Forsyth and I can have together. Doubts I share.

Forsyth pulls her to him and kisses her again, this time on her cheek. My stomach churns jealously at the easy affection he gets and I never did. “The second the weather clears, you should come down and visit,” he says to her.

“What, you’ll miss me?” Shira says it teasingly, even if her eyes have the slightest hint of skepticism as if she doesn’t entirely believe him.

“I would.” He kisses her again, then pulls out his phone and begins scrolling through something. I crane my neck to see what’s on the screen—maybe he’s the type of guy to hop on dating apps the second he’s left alone. But no, a flash of car listings rolls by. He catches me staring and holds up his phone. “Drive should take about two days.”

Two days. Put it that way, and this shouldn’t be that hard to get through. All I need to do is keep my cool until we hit Florida. And what about the rest of the season?

I thought Shira was just committed to being independent when she—nicely, sweetly—rejected me. What’d the other girls call me? A plaid whale. A big spender. Some sour part of me wonders if she was just waiting for a larger, more lucrative whale.

I touch my own teeth to my lower lip. A reminder of all the things I want to say to her and shouldn’t. Not here. Not now. Not with the words perched on the tip of my tongue.

How much I missed her.

How I was in love with her and thought she felt the same way about me.

How much I want her to be mine—still.

None of which I can say, so I settle for turning to Forsyth, who’s still scrolling through his phone. “Where’s your car?” I ask.

Forsyth shakes his head. “Georgia. I’ve been leasing here and I just turned it in. All the rentals are sold out—looks like everyone else is driving too. Where’s yours?”

“Back on the farm.”

Forsyth gives me a once-over like he’s seeing me for the first time: my work boots, my salt-crusted hat, my shirt that’s just on the edge of too-tight around my chest. “Huh,” he says, “guess we’ll just have to tell the team we’ll be late.”

Because of course he just assumes the team will understand. That’s what being an All-Star gets you. “No,” I say. Snap. A second later, I relent. “We could take the bus.”

“You want to take a bus—to Florida?” Forsyth says it like it’s a question when it’s really not.

“Why not?” I press. “We took them in the minor leagues.” And I took one this morning, a shuttle in from Dartmouth. Not that I’ll admit that to Forsyth.

The tiniest muscle jumps in Forsyth’s jaw. “Well, if that’s what you want to do, don’t let me stop you.” He adjusts Shira’s bag on his shoulder and if I didn’t know better, I’d think the muscle in his jaw jumped again.

“How’ll you get to Florida?” I ask.

Forsyth shrugs. “I’m in the market for a new car anyway. Might as well check that off the list.” Said matter of fact. He has money. Money will solve this problem.

I snort. “Not sure you can buy your way out of a snowstorm.”

Forsyth’s smile goes hard at the edges. “I bet I could try.”

“Is that right?” I step toward Forsyth, not like we’re gonna tussle right here, but to remind him that just because he’s taking my job doesn’t mean he can push me around. I must do it too forcefully, because Shira slides between us, a subtle barrier that nevertheless makes Forsyth and me both freeze.

“I have a car,” she declares.

“You do?” For whatever reason, Forsyth looks confused. She’s your girlfriend and you don’t even know that? “You want to lend us your car?”

“Sure.” Even if Shira doesn’t look sure.

I turn to her. “Won’t that leave you without one?”

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