Page 4 of Stealing Home

“I have a feeling I’m not telling her anything she doesn’t already know,” he retorts.

My eyes widen, and I chastise myself for wishing someone would see me. I think I prefer it when my pain is mine to deal with. This isn’t the first time I’ve met the hotshot pitcher, and every time I do I feel like he peels another layer away from the camouflage I hide behind.

“I apologize for my son. We taught him to speak his mind, but I thought we’d also taught him some tact,” Mrs. Ryan says.

I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it. My husband is a hard man to get along with. I appreciate the fact that some people are still able to remember baseball is a game.”

Scott’s face softens. “I am sorry Harlow.” I can tell by the way he’s looking at my leg that he’s not apologizing for what he said, but what he seems to correctly have guessed happened.

The Master of Ceremonies steps up to the microphone and everyone takes their seats. I begrudgingly return to Nando and join him at the head table.

“Welcome back Tigers for a new season!” Everyone claps for the team.

“We’re blessed to have back our star pitcher, Scott Ryan. We know the question on everyone’s mind is will this be our last season with him?” The MC looks at Nando. “With him being eligible to enter the draft this year we’ll have to make the most of him, won’t we Coach?”

Nando preens as if Scott making the majors will be his accomplishment. “I’m sure he’ll be willing to work hard for me this season. I know we’ll all be very proud to have a Tiger go pro.”

Another round of whistles and claps erupts among the guests. I find Scott sitting with his parents and some other teammates and their families. He’s scowling while saying something to his dad.

“Of course we’ve got a solid team backing up our pitcher, all masterfully coached by our very own Fernando Rivera. Coach Rivera, as many of you know, played for ten years for the Clarkston Eagles Minor League team. With his leadership we’ve got the best shot the Tiger’s have ever had to win the College World Series!”

Nando eats up every word of praise. Storing it away where it validates every action he’s taken to get to this point of his career. And I take in all of it. The pomp and pageantry leading to the season opener, the celebration of the sport and the players, and the worship of the coach they respect so much.

If only they could see behind the mask. If only someone would see me and not care about the game more than my well being. Then, I remind myself what it felt like to be under the scrutiny of navy blue eyes scowling at what he found. I should be careful what I wish for, because it’s hard to be seen and not feel exposed.

Dinner comes to a close, and I steel myself for the mingling that immediately follows. Even though the self congratulation is hard for me to swallow at this point, at least I’m not expected to speak to anyone during the speech.

Mrs. Harper turns to me after the MC steps off the stage. “It’s so nice to have a young couple in the coach’s position.”

Putting on my best fake smile, I nod. I don’t see how I’m a part of Nando’s position, but I know in the past the coach’s wife hosted many gatherings and did lots of volunteer work for the university’s various charities. Still, I wish my husband was as supportive as Coach Tucker is with his wife.

“Will you be joining us in the women’s league this year?” she asks.

I set down my fork, my appetite is non-existent anyway. “I’ll certainly try. My position in the bursar’s office limits my availability during the day.”

She frowns. “I never understood why a woman with a husband needed a career. Your family should be your first priority.” She nods as if she’s unveiled a universal truth I have been missing out on.

“Do you have children yet? Mr. Harper hasn’t mentioned any.” She waits for my answer as if she is entitled to the most personal details about my life.

I shake my head. “No, it’s just the two of us.”

She claps her hands together. “No wonder you feel you need to work.” She leans forward, like she’s telling me a secret, “You don’t want your window to pass you by.”

Scott strolls up to the table, and puts his hand on the back of my chair. “Good evening Mrs. Harper. Would you mind if I borrow Harlow? Some of the guys need some help with our legacy gift to the university this season.”

Mrs. Harper waves me away. “Oh, of course. How thoughtful you should ask Mrs. Rivera for her opinion. The coach’s wife should really be more involved in these types of matters.”

I exhale as I stand. It dawns on me that Scott has never called me Mrs. Rivera. Most of the players do, because sure as shit Nando hasn’t told them I don’t use his last name.

“Thank you,” I whisper when we’re far enough away from the table.

He gives me a quick bob of his head. “That woman is the spokesperson for internalized misogyny. She doesn’t even know your last name isn’t Rivera.”

“How do you?” I ask.

He shrugs, a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I always pay attention to a beautiful woman.”

I roll my eyes. “Careful there, hotshot, I am married to your coach.”

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