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“I need to take this.”
“Go ahead, I can finish filling the enchiladas.”
While I spoon filling into tortillas, Sutton steps away to the living room and talks to her landlord. I try not to listen in, but then I hear the strain in her voice.
“Was anything salvageable?” She asks, the color draining from her face. “No. I can’t get back that soon…I’mworking…fine. I cantryto get back. I’ll see what I can do.”
Sutton ends the call and drops her phone on the couch, hands covering her face as she takes a minute to compose herself. But then her body is wracked with sobs.
“Hey,” after wiping my hands on the dish towel I slung over my shoulder, I gather her in my arms and hold her close. Her arms snake around my waist, holding on tight. “What’s going on, Davis?”
“There was a fire at my building. My unit is fine, I guess, but we all have to be out of the building by Sunday night…I have nowhere to live.”
“I have a room,” I answer before stopping to think about it. “You’d have plenty of space to yourself, away from me and Elise. Loretta loves you.”
“I can’t move in with you, Maxwell.”
“Why not?” I ask, defiant.
“Because…” she pauses and I can see her working up an excuse in her head. “We hardly know each other.”
I laugh. I can’t help it.
“Davis. Come on. We’ve known each other for six years.”
“That doesn’t mean weknoweach other,” she sighs. “Which makes it even more absurd that we’re….whatever we are now.”
We don’t know each other.
Not for lack of trying.
When I met Sutton at our first spring training together, I knew I wanted to get to know her better. And when my friendshipwith Mandy MacDougal afforded me the opportunity to get to know Sutton better, I didn’t waste the gift I was being given. I know that she has a gluten allergy, and has to be careful about every piece of food she puts in her mouth. I know that violets are her favorite flower, and I know that she has chronic migraines. I know that she grew up in Michigan and went to school on a softball scholarship. And I know that she’s the best hitting coach in the league right now.
I also know that what she means is…she doesn’t know me.
“My favorite color is green.” Specifically the green of her eyes this very minute. “My favorite flower is the chrysanthemum.”
She sucks in a breath and slowly blows it out, eyes still locked on mine.
“I grew up in Portland, went to Michigan on a baseball scholarship where I met my best friend, Jake. And I have a degree in music performance.”
“You do not,” she laughs, eyes wide. “You do?”
“Played my senior recital in a dirt streaked baseball uniform. Ran from the game to the music hall and made it just in time. Now you know the things that couples usually talk about on first dates.”
“Max,” it’s never good when she calls meMax.I’m always Maxwell. Max only comes out when she’s gearing up for an argument. She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I can’t impose on you like that.”
“It’s not an imposition,” I assure her. “Besides, we start the season on the road, you’re going to need a place to come back to. Stay with me – us – until you can find a place of your own.”
“Maxwell,” her body sags and she sniffles into my sleeve. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I let her go, gently wiping her eyes with a clean corner of the towel. “Now, go call Roger, tell him what’s goingon, and then we’ll find you a flight home, okay? I’ll call Elise and let her know. She can help you move your stuff to the house.”
While Sutton calls Roger and explains the situation, I call Elise and do the same.
“Text me her flight information when you have it, I’ll pick her up at the airport. And I’ll get the guest room ready for her, too.”
“She may want to use her own bedding, Leecey, so wait until she gets there before you do any of that.”
