“Please, Mom.” Hazel’s pleading eyes grab hold of the mom guilt I’ve been drowning in lately.
“Okay.” I bend down and hug her. “I’ll get you for dinner, okay?”
She nods, and I hold her a beat longer than necessary, my nose in her hair because most days now, the hugs are more for me than for her.
“Thanks, Hayes.”
“Believe me, you made today easier by adding a friend for Monroe.” He holds out his hand for Hazel.
Holding Hazel’s hand in one and Monroe’s in the other, Hayes and the boys lead the way to cross the street with the crossing guard and head to their house.
I watch until they disappear around the corner. The quiet that comes after feels louder than it should. The other moms have already filtered away, leaving me alone with my cold coffee by my feet.
I pull out my phone and type a message to Leighton. I need to ask if she’s talked to her doctor friend from work yet. Because I’ve been putting this off long enough, and seeing Hazel watch Monroe and Hayes today makes my plan feel a lot more urgent.
Chapter
Six
Decker
* * *
I shut my door and jog down the last steps of the concrete staircase on the side of the condo building. The security gate creaks as I push it open and let it shut after me. I glance over my shoulder to see another cardboard sign posted on the security gate. The Dugout is written in girly script, and a bunch of small notes are stuck on it with whatever the diamond girls have handy. Gum, mostly.
I don’t bother taking it down and throwing it in the trash can. If I do, a new one will be in its place tomorrow.
I stopped counting the notes after the third week. They’re just women trying to get through the one door that keeps them out. Meanwhile, Penelope Ripley hasn’t needed a door in years.
It’s odd to me that the diamond girls put so much effort into contacting us. We’re just like any other guy they’d meet at a bar. Sure, we play professional baseball, but I’m pretty sure they don’t understand the life nor schedule we live. Then again, I remind myself they’re probably not looking for a boyfriend, more like a one-night hookup.
I never thought I’d be that guy. For a long time, I was the other Davis twin—the one nobody was watching, the one no scout or coach was driving twelve hours to mold into something. The one who had to figure it out alone.
From the stories they tell, Hayes and Easton were stars of their high school and college teams. They knew they’d go pro from a young age. My dad had Foster down south to make damn sure he’d go pro, leaving me in the dust to play rec ball. The comparison between us twins carved something out of me back then. Foster beat me in everything, and I let it mean more than it should have.
But his words from the dugout the other day ring true. I’ve been awarded four Gold Gloves in my career. I’ve proved my worth, so why am I having the yips now—when it actually matters?
It’s no surprise Jagger called me to a meeting. Agents want to meet with their players when they’re messing up during a contract year. The press says Foster coming back has changed me, but that’s not it. I love my brother and couldn’t be happier that we’re mending our fences after being torn apart most of our lives. Hell, I’m not even going after the one woman I’ll always love in an effort to preserve my relationship with my brother. If that doesn’t say something about who I’m choosing, I don’t know what does.
The pancake restaurant Jagger is known to meet all his clients at isn’t very busy since it’s midday during a work week. There’s still a guy behind the glass making pancakes into the shapes requested by the guests though. One of the waitresses must recognize me because she points toward the far-right corner of the restaurant where Jagger sits in a booth for two.
His tie is thrown over his shoulder, his reading glasses on, his thumbs moving over his phone screen with the focus of a man brokering a million-dollar deal. He glances at his watch when I approach.
“I’m on time.”
He smiles. “Early actually. Which is why I love you, Decker.” He turns off his phone and sets it on the table face down.
I slide into the other side of the booth and wait.
He laughs and shakes his head. “It always amazes me.”
I nod, annoyance coiling around me like a snake. The laugh. The way I walked in. Something about Foster and me being nothing alike. I’ve heard it a hundred times. I’m done with everyone comparing me to my brother. Sure, I have the favorable reputation, and maybe that’s why I hate it. Foster isn’t a bad guy. He made the most of who brought him up, and if anything, I’d say we’re swapping personalities more every day.
Jagger stares at me long and hard, but I don’t stir or fidget. “I wish I had better news.”
A sigh escapes me. “I figured.”
“They’re not budging.”
