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In a little city park during hot and humid summers. Where sliding into bases – because what kid doesn’t want to slide?! – ended with scraped and bloody knees. And hands. And elbows. But we did it anyway. Dirt on your uniform meant that you’dplayedbaseball that night.
I can’t remember the last time I felt that kind of joy in the game.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I can’t help but smile at the name that appears.
“Hey, Jake,” I greet my old friend, “what’s up?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he responds with a laugh. “How was your start tonight?”
“I felt good,” I answer honestly. “No pain in my arm or elbow, but the powers that be want me to make another one.”
The silence from Jake’s side of the call speaks volumes. He’s no stranger to rehab games and healing from arm injuries. Jake’s own pitching career ended following the second surgical repair of his elbow, and I was devastated the night I watched him leave the game.
“I doubt they’ll leave you down there indefinitely, but that still sucks.”
“It does…” I think back to the question Molly asked me tonight. “Jake, Marisol is going to kill me for this.Sourceshave told you that I’m retiring at the end of the season. Okay?”
“Sources.”
“Yes.”
“You’resources.”
“I knew I should have talked to Penelope,” I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes. I’m the source, but no one needs to know that.”
“Got it. You’re sure this is how you want to do it?”
“Positive. I’ll finish the season, whetherit’s here or in Detroit, but when it’s over, I’m spending the rest of my life with my best friend.”
“Aw,” I hear the laughter in Jake’s voice. “I love you too, Max. But Penelope might take issue with you moving in.”
“I meant Sutton, doofus,” I laugh, and Jake joins in, feeling a lot like old times.
“I know,” Jake’s tone softens, “we may have new best friends in that top slot, but you know I’m always in your corner, right?”
“Always. Just like I’m in yours.”
“I love you Max, and I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that.”
“Love you too, Jake. I couldn’t have gotten here without you.”
As the sun starts to go down, I walk the rest of the way back to the hotel and stream the Olympians’ game, hoping for any glimpse of Sutton I can get, and dreaming of the day that I can be there when she comes home at the end of the night.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
On the Record
SUTTON
Growing up,I always loved afternoon baseball games in the summer. Dad would take the day off from work and we’d drive down to the ballpark, making a whole day of it. Breakfast at our favorite diner and lunch in the stands while we watched our favorite team.
Afternoon games hit a little different when the game is your job. Now, instead of falling asleep in the car on the way home and recapping the game for Mom over dinner, I find myself on a Thursday evening in my office, listening toOn the Fieldwhile I go over game stats and video following a meeting with Roger and the rest of the coaching staff.
“Up next,” Penelope’s voice cuts through the statistics induced fog in my brain, “Jake sits down with Maxwell Harrison. Stay tuned.”
My eyes snap up just in time to see Max’s face flash on my screen before a quick career highlight reel plays. I check my phone, but have no messages from him; he never mentioned he’d be doing the show today. Jake and Penelope have guests on all the time, so I doubt it’ll be anything earth shattering. But I’ve been wrong before.
When the show comes back, I put my tablet on its chargerand focus my attention on Jake and Maxwell, both in shorts and tee shirts, on what I recognize as the baseball field in Toledo. With baseball gloves on their hands and mics clipped to their tee shirts, they set up in the outfield and Jake interviews Maxwell while the pair plays catch.
