Page 151 of Hiding in the Outfield

“My brother plays in Triple-A and always invited me out with the team. I’m a first-class flirt and didn’t shy away from flirting with his teammates, at least the ones who weren’t…” I glance at the kids. “Intolerant.” I send Ryan a meaningful look, and his jaw tightens in understanding. “But yes, apparently I was too much for Jackson to resist.” I pop a shoulder. “I mean, can you blame him?”

“Oh no,” Amy says. She glances between Ryan and me. “There are two of you.”

Ryan’s grin turns devilish. “Oh no, is right. We are going to have so much fun with this team, Frankie. I think you bring the exact kind of energy the BDE requires.” He winks.

At that moment, a woman with light brown tanned skin, wearing oversized round glasses and donning a messy high-ponytail, comes rushing over in the row behind us, her phone out.

“Amy! Have you found out if our new player has a wife or girlfriend and needs shirts? I’ll get them ordered ASAP if so. Just let me know the size and the colors they want.” She leans over and busses Ryan on the cheek. “Hey, Ry Ry. Hey, Lucas.” Then she turns and boops the nose of the little boy in Amy’s arms. “Hey, Nico. How are you doing, little man?”

Her brown eyes land on me, and her blinding smile goes stadium lights bright. “Hi! I’m Alana. I haven’t seen you before.” She turns to Amy. “I haven’t seen him before.” She whips back to me. “I’m Sanchez’s wife. The quiet giant. Well, Sanchez is the quiet giant. I’m definitely not. I’m little and loud.” She tosses her ponytail, and her eyes sparkle at me.

Wow. Just wow. That was a lot. She’s about my height, standing on the row above mine. She is the definition of a firecracker.

I somehow remember my manners and offer her my hand. “I’m Frankie, Olander’s boyfriend.”

She waves away my hand. “Oh, no no no. No handshakes. Give me a cheek!”

Grinning, I lean forward and dutifully offer a cheek. She gives me a quick kiss and beams at me. Then her eyes go wide. “Oh! Oh no! I should have never just assumed wife or girlfriend.” Her eyebrows pinch, her forehead wrinkling. “I’m so sorry. Oh my gosh. I’m horrible. Please don’t hate me. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Her eyes stretch wider. “Drat! We need to redo the shirts and sweatshirts. I’ll get on that right away.” She drops a hand on my shoulder and lifts her other hand—phone and all—to cover her mouth as she shakes her head. “They all say Berkeley WAGs. How exclusive.” Her brow furrows. “Non-inclusive? Ugh. How horrible! We will get this fixed.”

“Alana,” Amy says firmly. “Breathe, woman!”

She closes her eyes and takes a slow, deep breath, then pops her eyes open again. “Thank you, Amy. I needed that.” She starts tapping away on her phone. “All right. I’ll brainstorm some new shirt ideas. What about WAPs instead of WAGs?”

I cringe and see similar reactions on Amy’s and Ryan’s faces. Alana looks at each of us expectantly, eyes bright.

“The Berkeley WAPs…” Ryan says carefully. He glances at me. “Don’t think that’s any more inclusive,” he mouths.

I bite back my smile.

“Yes! Wives and Partners. I think it’s perfect.”

“Honey,” Amy says carefully. “WAP is already a pretty commonly used acronym. Maybe you look up what that means… I don’t think that’s the best choice.”

Alana frowns and goes back to typing on her phone. Then stills. Her eyes go saucer-wide, and her cheeks go beet red.

“Ohmygod,” she hisses. She waves a hand in front of her face. “I am so embarrassed. That is definitely getting crossed off the list.” She does an imaginary strike-through in the air. “I’ll come up with something. Can I get your number and email, Frankie? I’ll add you to the To-Be-Decided-Acronym group chat and email list!”

She hands me her phone, and I input my contact info while she rattles off some upcoming events they have planned, including drinks tonight at one of the players’ condos.

“Can you and Olander make it?” She stares at me hopefully.

“As much as I wish we could…” And I really do, because Alana is clearly a fucking gem. “We have some PR and team meetings after the game. And I fly out first thing tomorrow.”

She nods sympathetically. “If there’s anything you need help with, you just pop into the chat. Everyone in there has been doing this for a while and knows the ropes. You didn’t just join a new team, you joined a family with Berkeley. Are you moving out here? Trades are such a whirlwind. But we can let you know the best spots for apartment and house hunting!”

I force a smile even as a band cinches around my chest. “I’m not sure about the living arrangement plans yet. I’ll definitely take you up on advice when we get that figured out.”

And just like that, the sunny day just became a little less bright.

Amy convinces me to move over to sit with her and her boys and Ryan. I kick back and try to lose myself in the game and the happy chatter of the team’s families around me, but my thoughts keep creeping in and refuse to stay quiet.

In a few days, we’ll be in August. There’s not a ton of season left. Does it make sense for Jackson to just move back home with me when the season ends? Find a temporary lease here for the last two months? Two months of not seeing each other sounds like pure torture. They’re still in the playoff hunt too, which could stretch the two months to three.

But also…it sounds like Berkeley has a close-knit group here. If he’s not around to attend things because he’s with me in Providence during the off-season, it’ll hinder his chances of getting closer to his teammates. This is his new family. These are the guys he needs to bond with.

For now.