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What’s your favorite kind of ice cream?
Greer
Mint Chocolate Chip. Why?
Me
Mine is strawberry.
Me
A bunch of the guys on the bus were talking about what their wives and girlfriends like and I realized I didn’t know much about your favorites, so I thought I’d ask.
Greer
The difference is this is a fake relationship.
Me
But we need it to look legit.
Greer
Well, in that case, my favorite pizza is Fresh Mozzarella from Louisiana Pizza Kitchen. I also love their Goat Cheese Chicken Pasta. TO DIE FOR. My favorite color is purple, my favorite wine is sauvignon blanc, my favorite thing to do is go to the zoo, my favorite holiday is Christmas even though I haven’t put up a tree since I left home, my favorite book is anything by Sarah J. Maas, and my favorite flower is a peony. I’m sure there are plenty more, but this is just off the top of my head.
I smileat the list she sent, reading over it multiple times and committing it to memory, and when her next message starts bombarding me with questions in return, I oblige.
Normally, I’d balk at personal questions, especially from someone like Greer Bradley, sports correspondent and reporter, but I don’t feel that way with her. Not anymore.
* * *
Today isour final game before we return home for a nine-game stand and to say we’re all ecstatic is an understatement. Even though we lost last night, four to three, it was a hard-fought battle and we left everything on the field. Victor Hernandez, one of our new pitchers this season, was on the mound and he was on fire for five innings, but a grand slam in the bottom of the sixth sealed our fate. Our bullpen held their own, but our offense couldn’t catch a break.
Win some, lose some.
But at this point in the season, we’re trying to win them all. To say we all have our eyes on the prize is an understatement. It’s so close we can taste it, but we still don’t talk about it.
“Have you heard from Greer today?” Owen asks, sliding onto the bench beside me as I get the laces on my away game shoes just right. It’s all in the details.
“We were texting earlier, why?” Glancing up at Owen, I try to read his facial expression.
He lets out a sigh, avoiding my eyes.
“Owen,” I demand, knowing he wants to say something but he’s not. “Just say whatever you came over here to say.”
We’ve had plenty of talks over the past few days about what’s happening at home, and he knows I’m on edge about Greer, so the fact he’s beating around the bush right now is immediately pissing me off.
“Soph said she got another email this morning and Greer immediately packed up her bags. She wouldn’t tell Sophie what the email said. When Sophie confronted her over it and insisted that she stay, Greer got upset and said she couldn’t. That’s all. She didn’t tell Sophie where she was going and Soph is worried. I know this is a lot of shit to unload on you before a game, but I thought maybe you could get in touch with her and at least make sure she’s okay.”
“Fuck.” Standing from the bench, I immediately reach into my bag to grab my cell.
We have about thirty minutes before we have to be out for our final warmup routine. I don’t have time for this, but I also can’t go out there not knowing what’s going on with Greer.
Me
Where are you?
It takes an excruciating thirty seconds, but when the dots appear on the screen, I relax a little.
