"Hey Jace," she mutters shyly.
"Both," I answer at the same time.
Jace rolls his eyes in my direction, grinning at my kid. "What's up, Ruthie? I heard you tore up the field this weekend. Crushed some old people in soccer?"
Her face glows as she smothers a laugh. "Yeah, with my nanny, Tess." We move toward the hut that's considered the front office of the cages. "She's the best."
Her words hit me with a realization that we still haven't heard from Tessa.
"I heard that too," Jace says.
My eyes dart to his, and he wiggles his brow as I step up to the window.
"Hey, Bill." I peek my head through the opening, only to find the owner sitting exactly where he always is, his head tucked inside a newspaper.
"Liam," he says, recognizing my voice and lowering the article just enough to see his face. He moves to raise it again, but when it's at about the tip of his nose, he pauses and brings it back down. "Jace Holloway?" he questions, scanning my teammate head-to-toe—or more like head to waist judging by the height of his stool and the opening in the kiosk.
"Yes, sir." Jace pokes his head into the hut.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Holloway chuckles to himself, peering over at me. "I was just asking myself the same question."
Bill laughs and sets the paper down on the counter in front of him—something he rarely does unless he has shit to talk or a story to tell. "I'll have you know, son," he starts. "I opened this place…"
His words trail off as I mentally check out. I've heard this story more times than I can count, and with Ruthie already halfway toward the open field beside the cages, I have time to check my phone.
Still nothing from Tessa, not that I expected an update. I just didn't realize how much I'd be waiting for one. Today is a big day for us—at least to me it is—and as it goes on and I still don't hear from her, that waiting weighs on me more and more.
I decide shooting her a text wouldn't hurt. If anything, there should be a whole lot more of that after today. I'm excited, and I want to check in and make sure everything's okay.
So that's what I do.
Hey, checking in. I hope everything's okay. I'll see you later.
I don't need an answer. I just want her to know that I'm thinking about her. Still, I tap my finger against the side of my phone, waiting to see if I just so happen to get another set of three little dots from her—the ones that tell me she's answering anyway. I don't, at least not quickly enough that they show up before Jace taps my arm.
"Ready, Two-Three?"
I look up to find Bill back behind the paper as Jace stands there, waiting.
"Uh, yeah," I say, sliding my phone back into my pocket. I nod toward my usual cage, and Jace follows behind.
"My brother and I used to come here when we were kids," I tell him, setting my stuff down. "Still do, actually. Mostly when we just want to get away from the rest of it."
Jace unzips his bag and pulls out his batting glove, snapping the velcro loose. "I didn't know there was still a place you could do that around here."
I laugh. Golden City is filled with sports-crazy fans, but that's something I've learned to navigate in ways that only come from experience. I drive a truck—nothing flashy. It's top of the line, but not what people would guess. I come here to decompress, not the clubs or local bars. Sure, people still spot me around. But it's hard to hit a moving target when my biggest outings in the heart of the city are my early-morning runs.
"There are," I promise. "And they're different for everyone." I picture Ruiz at the mom and pop taquería or J.J. at the gaming store on 32nd that he single-handedly keeps in business. "You just have to find yours."
He nods. "Hopefully once I'm more settled…"
"You'll get there," I assure him. "I'll help ya out."
He chuckles to himself.
"Is that funny?" I ask.
