Page 16 of Love in the Outfield

He sits back, eyes widening. “For real? Do you think that’s okay? I mean I don’t want to scar him for life or anything.”

“Considerin’ his age, it will be fine.”

“That’s great! I mean I was afraid to hope for it. It’s one hundred percent your call, but I’d like that.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” I say.

“Georgia, I… I’m so sorry that I left like I did. You have to know how special you were… are… to me… I…”

I hold up my hand for him to stop. “I want to make this very clear. That is the past. I’m over it. This is a new chapter. We can’t go back. There is no us. We are co-parenting. We can be friends but that’s it. That’s all it can ever be.”

He nods. “I understand. I can’t say I don’t wish it were different but I’ll do my best to try and remember that.” He flashes a wolfish grin. “No promises though.”

I slap his arm. “I’ll just have to be strong for the both of us.”

“Ah, so you admit that itisgoing to take strength and sheer willpower to resist me. Good to know.”

We finish our meals in comfortable silence then he settles up the bill while I visit the lady’s room. As we walk to our cars, he casually slings an arm across my shoulders and I quickly wiggle out from under him.

My car chirps as I hit the key fob to unlock. Cade opens my door and I slide in. He leans down towering over me and says, “This wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I reckon we survived.”

“You going to watch the game tonight?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I lie.

He tilts my chin. “Liar.” I slap his hand away and feel myself blush.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, and keep your hands to yourself,” I say through gritted teeth. He laughs. Laughs! The nerve. “Whatever, Cade. Break a leg or whatever you say before a ballgame.”

“How about I’ll be watching and rooting for you? Has a nice ring.”

“Goodbye, Cade. Hope you win. Now close the door please.”

“Do I have to?” I glare and he chuckles. “See you Monday. If you watch the game tonight, I promise to hit a home run just for you.”

“Git!” I say, waving my hand like I’m swatting at a fly while pretending his flirting isn’t getting under my skin. He does not need to know I was planning on watching it anyway.

8

CADE

For a game day, I’m pretty relaxed. I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist then grab another to towel-dry my hair. Earlier we did pre-game cardio and light weight training that loosened my muscles and cleared my head. After lunch Dean and I dissected the opposing players until our food settled, then I was right back at it knocking some balls in the batting cages. When I returned to the clubhouse I slipped on my earbuds and listened to music to keep my head in the zone.

But my favorite part of the pre-game practice is now, when I go out to the field with no one in the stands. It’s relaxed and easy, no pressure. I’m a left field position player, so I hit some balls first then practice defense, focusing on my jumps and fielding plays from my teammates still taking batting practice. Repetition leads to muscle memory, which leads to efficiency and baseball IQ. It has to be instinctive. I mean you’ve got zero time to think about a play when a flyball or line drive is coming at you.

Overall, I feel ready as I leave the field, mentally replaying my batting practice and outfield plays, my mind focused onthe upcoming game. I’m thinking about game strategy and visualizing specific plays as I make my way to my locker.

The clubhouse is like a second home to us players. We do everything here, eat, nap, shower, shave, play card games, listen to music, goof around, work out and relax. They drop a lot of coin on modern MLB clubhouses. They’re pretty luxe. The blue Cutter logo is plastered everywhere and photographs of Hall of Famers hang on the walls. We have a players’ lounge and kitchen, a chef who whips out whatever meals we want, whenever we want. Sometimes we have dogs, kids and family running around. After games, there are reporters and sportscasters. We do post-game interviews in a designated area right outside the locker room.

Our job is grueling at times, and we get plenty beat up, especially late in the season but getting paid to play a game that I love… yeah, I have no complaints. This late in the season, everyone is tired and pushing through aches, pain and injuries. But we all love the game. Few players make it to the big leagues and only the dedicated ballers can make a career out of it.

“Cadeski, my man, ya feelin’ it?” Dean calls out. He’s sitting at a card table with Max, hunched over their iPad studying the other team’s starting pitcher.

“I’m feeling it, fo sho,” I say as I drop the towel and reach into my locker to grab my athletic shorts. I slip into them then take a big swig from my water bottle. “Gonna hit a homer tonight.”

“Bro, you were on fire in batting practice today,” our shortstop Carlos says.

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