The smile fades from my face, replaced by a familiar pull low in my chest. “Yeah,” I say. “He would have been obsessed with them. He would have spoiled them rotten.”
“Remy would have followed him around like a shadow.”
I can see it clearly in my mind. My dad, in his work boots and faded Chicago Cubs hat, Remy trotting along behind him with big determination.
“And Rhyan would have had him wrapped around her finger.”
Savannah snorts. “Oh, for sure. That child would have owned him the second he saw her wild brown hair when she was born.”
She isn’t wrong.
I drive another mile in silence, nearing my exit, and let the ache of missing him settle the way it always did when it came to my dad.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat, “did you call me just to tell me Rhyan is one step away from organized crime?”
“Can’t I just call because I missed your voice?”
I smile. “I miss you too.”
“And because Remy has a baseball game on Saturday. Would you be able to come down for the weekend?”
I groan. “I wish I could. We have media day this weekend. It’s harder for me to get away, pretty much from camp in July until the end of the season.”
“Could you come after media day and stay the night?”
“Savannah.”
“Wyatt.” Her tone shifts. It’s still warm, but with a little edge to it. “He asks me to ask you to come to every game.”
That just about kills me. I really do try to see them as much as I can. It’s just hard right now with the season getting ready to start. We have media day, and then we go to camp in July.
My grip tightens on the wheel. “I’m sorry, Savannah.”
“Okay.” Her voice softens. “You know, they both think you hung the moon.”
I know she doesn’t mean it in a way to guilt me, which almost makes it worse.
“I promise I’ll try to get down there soon.”
“You will?”
“Yeah, I will.”
She exhales. “Good. It would be great if you could make it work to be here for a game. He thinks you know everything about every sport and wants you to help him with his form.”
I laugh. “Tell him I’m available for consultations. But doesn’t he know his dad played baseball in college?”
“I’ll let him know. And, yes, he knows, but he somehow thinks you are the expert in all things.” She laughs. “Oh, and Rhyan’s dance recital is coming up.”
“How does that work? Do they just run around the stage?” I tease.
“Sort of, actually. Last week, she kicked another little girl in the shin because she told Rhyan that girls can’t be warriors.”
I laugh under my breath. “Don’t discourage that one too much.”
“Oh, I won’t. I’m just trying to make sure she doesn’t make too many enemies before she even goes to kindergarten.”
“I think she’ll be just fine.”
