Page 8 of Saving The Shortstop

“You see your brother much around campus?” Lane asks my dad, and I can hear the hesitation in his tone, almost like he didn’t know for sure if he should even ask the question.

“Yeah, here and there,” Dad answers softly, taking a bite of his burger. Once he swallows, he wipes his mouth with a napkin. “I will say, he’s doing great things with that baseball team. The players seem to really respect him too.”

“Yes, he is. And he calls Mase at least twice a week and asks him to go for a drink.” My mom bumps her shoulder into my dad’s chest. “And one of these days, he’s going to say yes.” She kisses his cheek, wiping her hand over it after because she probably left a lipstick stain. “He deserves to get to know this version of Maverick. He deserves to get to know his brother now that he seems to have turned his life around.”

“We’ll see,” Dad grumbles. “He does seem like a different dude than the spoiled little brat that he was growing up, I’ll give you that.”

Even though my dad just complimented his brother, his tone is still very much unimpressed. My uncle Maverick came on as an assistant coach for the NEU baseball team last year. This year, he was promoted to head coach. And though my father and Maverick are certainly on better terms than they were years ago, there will always be some weird tension between them. Tension that likely stems from the fact that my mom dated my uncle first. Then he cheated on her, and she hooked up with my dad. But when she moved to New York and later realized she was pregnant with me, my uncle made it so that my dad didn’t find out until my mom was super far along. To this day, because of that, my dad holds a grudge. And I can’t really blame him because one thing about my dad? There’s nothing he loves more than being a father. So even missing the doctor’s appointments in those early months while I was in my mom’s belly? Yeah, it kills him for sure.

Not to mention, when they were together, my uncle was a super douche to my mom, and that alone would make my dad hate him. But they’re better than they were, and I think with time, their relationship will only get stronger. I can’t lie; I’m glad about that because I kind of like Uncle Mav. He played professional baseball for years, and the more I’ve gotten to know him, the more I’d like to see him around at family functions.

My brother’s phone rings, and he quickly pushes himself from his chair. “Sorry, I gotta take this. I’ll be back.”

My mom watches him as he walks outside but quickly begins talking to Memphis again. And I’m caught a little off guard when Dallas bumps his shoulder against mine, leaning in closer.

“What, Short, was Tabor busy tonight?” his deep voice murmurs, and I focus on not looking flustered.

“No idea,” I say, relaxing myself and leaning back so that I can actually look at him. “What’s it to you?”

“It’s absolutely nothing to me,” he says, almost matter-of-factly. “It’s just so funny that the guy half the team can’t stand is the one you choose to turn into your fuck buddy.”

I’m thankful that he’s speaking low enough for our parents not to hear. I’m sure my parents know there isn’t anything serious between us and that Tabor is, in fact, my fuck buddy, but I still don’t need to spell it out for them—or have Dallas do it either.

“Hmm,” I say, cocking my head to the side. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”

I’m bluffing. I know he doesn’t give a fuck what I do or who I do it with. Aside from the one time that we kissed, he’s always looked at me more like a sister than anything else.

Still … that kiss … it didn’t feel that way. Thank God, because that would be really freaking gross.

A chuckle rumbles from his chest, and he stares at me, so amused at my accusation that he may be jealous.

“Jealous of what, Short?”

“Well, for starters”—I pause, leaning my lips to his ear. Not in a way that our parents think we’re flirting, but a subtle way instead—“jealous of his huge dick,” I whisper, feeling his body stiffen slightly. “I’ve seen you in the pool, babe. It’s okay. I’m jealous of chicks with bigger tits than mine.”

The truth is, I’m lying. Well, partially. I have seen him in the pool, when his trunks suction against his body, leaving nothing to the imagination. So yeah, that is true.

But what I saw certainly would not have him jealous of what Tabor is packing, that’s for sure. Tabor is average. Dallas, unfortunately, is not.

But he doesn’t know that I’m lying.

“You’re so full of shit.” He tries to speak nonchalantly, but his words come out more in a hiss than he intended them to, I’m sure. “And if his dick is bigger than mine, I’m not sure how the fuck you’re even walking.”

Like so many other times over the years, my heartrate picks up and my eyes so badly want to fall to his lips. Once, we kissed. And all this time later, I compare every kiss to that one. Waiting to feel the butterflies float through my entire body the way they did that night. It never happens though, and I’m scared it never will.

“Whatever you say, D,” I singsong quietly. “Whatever … you … say.”

Turning my attention back to the table, I catch Lane half watching our interaction. His gaze darts between us, like he’s trying to figure out what’s happening before he looks away. It used to be a joke, when we were younger, that maybe we’d get married one day.

Dallas always made a sick face and pretended to gag. Love that for me so much.

For the rest of dinner, I just sit and listen to everyone chatting around me. Noah ended up calling my mom from outside, telling her he had to leave. He didn’t say what was going on, but it’s very unlike him to flake halfway through a family dinner.

My phone vibrates, and when I peek at it under the table, I see that Tabor is texting me, asking to meet up. Quickly, I type back that I can’t because I’m at family dinner, and before I can even slide my phone back into my pocket, he sends me another message.

Tabor: Guess I didn’t realize that Rivers is your family.

I stare at the message, feeling a sick pit in my stomach, not knowing how he would even know who was at dinner. I choose not to respond, but still, he sends another.