I pull my hand out of his grip. “No way,” I tell him, backing away. “You promised we wouldn’t play baseball.”
He grabs my hand again and drags me behind him. “We’re not playing baseball,” he tells me. “We’re miming it.”
“Miming it?”
“Yes. No actual bats. No cheekbone-shattering balls. Just us and the ball field.”
Caden positions me on one side of the plate, then he cocks his head. “You’re not left-handed, are you?”
“No.”
“Okay, so stand here and pretend there is a bat in your hands. Here—hold your hands like this.” He forms my hands into fists and puts one on top of the other and then puts them up near my right shoulder.”
I glare at him. “It’s not like I’ve never played before, you know. We did have to play softball in gym class in middle school. I’m not completely clueless.”
He looks me over from head to toe. “Something’s missing,” he says.
“A bat maybe?” I say sarcastically.
“Funny. No, not a bat.” He takes the Nighthawks cap off his head and puts it onto mine, being careful not to disturb my stitches. “There, now you’re ready.”
He spends the next half hour teaching me about balls, strikes, line-drives, and pop-flies. My brain is on overload from all the information. But at least I feel like I might understand it a little more when I come to his game next weekend.
I follow him into the dugout and we sit on the bench. I take off his hat and hand it to him.
“Keep it,” he says, winking. “I have a few more where that came from.”
I put it back on my head, knowing I’ll add it to the collection of other Hawks stuff he’s given me. “Thanks.”
“It looks good on you,” he says. “Some girls don’t look good in hats but it suits you. The sign of a real tomboy.”
I smile when he calls me that. Then I decide to tell him why. “When I was a kid, my dad used to call me a tomboy. I was always building forts and riding skateboards with the neighborhood boys.”
“But he doesn’t anymore?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. He died when I was twelve.” I look down at the concert t-shirt I’m wearing that reminds me of him. “This was my first concert. My dad took me. It was only weeks before he died.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, looking sad. “The shirt must mean a lot to you.”
“It’s my favorite article of clothing.”
“We have another thing in common, you know. My dad isn’t around either.”
“I’m sorry you lost him,” I say, knowing how terrible it is to lose a parent at a young age.
He shrugs. “No, he’s not dead. At least not that I know of. Who knows, maybe he is. He was a drug addict who left us just after I was born.”
“Oh, Caden, that’s awful.”
“No.” He touches the hem of my shirt. “What you went through is awful, losing a dad you grew up with. A dad you loved. I never even knew mine. Big difference.”
He stands up. “I’d better get you home before you turn into a pumpkin.”
I laugh. “I think you’re off by a few hours. But yeah, the doctor said I should get a lot of sleep the first week to help with healing.”
“You look great, you know. Much better than I thought you’d look less than a week after surgery.”
“Thanks. I’ve come to accept that my face won’t be perfect, but then again, it never was in the first place.”
I absorb his meaningful words and smile.
On our way out, Caden gives me a quick tour of the clubhouse, which is just a fancy term for locker room, a place that is normally off-limits to anyone who isn’t with the organization. Then we track down Harold and thank him profusely.
We walk to the nearest intersection and I look around as Caden hails a cab. I adore New York at night. The lights, the activity, the endless stream of pedestrians. I close my eyes and inhale. I’m not sure why I do it. I think the city just has a certain smell. If busy were a scent, this would be it. And I love it.
When I open my eyes, Caden is studying me. He holds the door of the cab open for me and we scoot in. “What made you finally do it?” he asks. “Move to the city.”
I fumble with the ring on my thumb. Kelly’s ring. The only one I never take off. “One of my friends from high school was always encouraging me to do it.”
“Sounds like a good friend,” he says. “Do you still keep in touch?”
I shake my head sadly. “She was my best friend. She died in late February,” I tell him. “We were in the middle of an Indian summer. Kelly and I were out jogging when she complained about a sharp pain in the back of her neck. Turns out she got stung by a bee. She didn’t even know she was allergic. I tried to get her back, to keep her breathing, but the doctor said there was nothing I could have done.”
“Jesus, Murph. That’s horrible. I’m sorry to hear that. You’ve experienced a lot of loss in your life. But that explains why you had the guts to follow your dream. Life’s too short not to.”
I nod. “Yeah, that’s what Kelly always said. My other friends, Tami, Megan and Hannah, they had all taken jobs in other cities or got married and moved away. Kelly and I were the only two left, and when she died, there was nothing more to keep me there.”
“No boyfriend?” he asks.
“No. I had a few on and off. Nobody I cared enough about to bring home to my mother.”
“How did your mom take your leaving?”
“She didn’t want me to go. She thought I was making a rash decision too soon after Kelly died. But she’s gone a lot. She’s a travel agent and she’s always taking trips here or there, either to scope out places or because she won them from her company because she’s so good at what she does.”
He stares me down. “You still haven’t told her what happened, have you?”
“No. She’d only worry about me more than she already does. But I’ll have to face the music soon enough, there will be no more hiding it when she starts to get insurance statements after my medical bills begin rolling in.”
“About those, I’d like to take care of them,” he says, looking guilty.
“What? No. Besides, my mom has really good insurance.”
“We’ll see,” he says, refusing to look directly at me.
“We will not see, Caden. Thanks to the job you got me, I can pay my own way. You’ve done enough. You’ve done more than enough.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You sure do have a stubborn streak, don’t you, Danny-girl?”
“Danny-girl? What is it with you and all your nicknames?”
“You know, Daniel Murphy.”
I look at him with a blank stare.
He laughs. “Oh, I have so much to teach you. Daniel Murphy plays second base for Washington. Great player. Good guy.”
“Maybe I need to come up with a nickname for you,” I say, as the cab pulls up to my building.
A smile grows up his face. “I think I might like that,” he says. “But my name’s pretty boring.”
“Your name is anything but boring,” I say. “It’s quite original. What do your friends call you?”
“Nothing really. The guys on my team call me Kessler, or just Kess.”
“Maybe I’ll try it out sometime. Or maybe I’ll come up with another one.”
“Give it your best shot, Murphy Brown.”
I swat him as I exit the cab.
“Thank you, Caden. I had a really good time tonight.”
“Mission accomplished then,” he says, getting out behind me.
I shove Caden back into the cab, remembering how he almost got mobbed by girls when someone recognized him earlier. I was genuinely fearing for his safety. “Don’t get out. I don’t want people to swarm you.”
He sits back down but instructs the cabbie to stay put until I’m inside the building. Then he turns back to me. “I’ll see you Saturday. I gave Lexi your number and she’s going to call you this week to set things up.”
“I’m looking forward to it, now that I know what … wait, what is that stick you hit the ball with called again?”
His laughter trails after me as I walk away.
When I walk into my apartment, three heads turn my way. I find it hard not to roll my eyes when I see Tony sitting on the couch with Kirsten and Tori. They were probably having some kind of threesome.
I walk past them into the kitchen without saying a word. I grab a bottle of water and head to my bedroom when Tony stands up, blocking my path. “What’s with the Hawks hat?” he asks.
I reach up and take the hat off my head. I study it for a second. “Oh, I forgot I was wearing it.”
“You don’t wear ball caps,” he says. “And you don’t like baseball.”
I crinkle my nose at him in disdain. “And yet you took me to a game,” I say dryly.
“Can I have it?” he asks.
“Do I look like I was born yesterday?” I say, pushing my way past him.
I shut my door and lean against it proudly, thinking of how that was the first conversation I’d had with him since he became my ex. I can almost hear Caden’s voice in my head. Good girl.