Chapter Seventeen
When Rachel arrived at the local college stadium, it surprised her how many people were at the baseball camp. When Gabe had told her about the camp he helped with, she had pictured him and a few other guys and a handful of kids from the community. But as she made her way through the venue, which had been set up with various stations where kids could learn different baseball skills, she had a feeling that Gabe had downplayed the camp.
There had to be almost a hundred kids ranging in age from four up to ten (Gabe had said that the following week was the camp for the older age group), and though the camp appeared to have enough staff to successfully run without the supervision of parents, many had chosen to stay in a roped off section behind one of the dugouts. Rachel had a feeling that had more to do with their desire to perhaps meet the baseball players than it did their desire to see their children improve their skills. The fathers looked star struck as they looked out over the field intently. And though the moms looked just as pleased to be there, Rachel knew it was probably for a much different reason.
And she couldn’t blame them. Seeing so many good-looking guys in tight pants would’ve made her take a few days off from work too. But since this was her job, she didn’t have to worry about that. She took her time walking through the camp, getting a few pictures of the players interacting with the children. As she roamed around, she found herself as interested in what was happening around her as the families seemed to.
After about ten minutes, Rachel found Gabe on the other side of the field. He was giving a mini-lesson on fielding to about ten kids who looked to be no older than seven. It reminded her why she never went into a discipline that required her to work with young children: Though they were cute, they were nearly impossible to keep focused. Since they didn’t typically like to share with one another, they all wanted the ball at the same time, even though it was only Gabe and one other player hitting the ball so they could take turns fielding it.
Gabe saw her and gave her a wave before hitting a grounder to a little boy with dark floppy hair and a few missing front teeth. The boy ran toward it and lowered his glove, but the ball rolled right through his legs. The boy bent over to make a play for the ball, but it was too far under him, so he completely tipped over when he tried to grab it under his legs. A blonde girl, who looked slightly older than the boy who’d just missed the play, ran from a few yards away and made the play, causing the boy to burst into tears instantly when he saw the girl had “stolen” his ball. Then he sat down in the grass and pulled his knees to his chest in frustration.
The girl threw the ball back to Gabe, who encouraged the boy to get up and try again. “That happened because there was space between your glove and the grass, Dylan. Make sure your glove touches the ground this time,” Gabe called to him. “And don’t run up on the ball. Let it come to you.” Dylan stared at him but made no move to stand. Gabe immediately jogged out to the boy. He crouched down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Gabe said a few words to him, though Rachel couldn’t hear what they were, and then put his hand out for Dylan to slap. Gabe turned toward the direction from which he’d come and got into position again. He hadn’t waited to see if the boy would stand, but by the time Gabe was ready to hit it again, Dylan was ready to field. Gabe hit a ball right to him this time, and thankfully the boy stopped it. Though it did take him a few tries to pick it up with his glove.
Gabe and the other player continued to hit grounders—and some pop-ups—to the kids, who all seemed like they were having a great time. But what was more fun than watching the children learn about the game was watching Gabe play it with them. From his beaming smile, Rachel could tell he genuinely enjoyed his time there. Despite Gabe having told her when they were at dinner once that he wasn’t good with kids, the opposite seemed to be true. That’s when she realized that she really didn’t have much information about the camp. Other than telling her that he participated in it, Gabe hadn’t said much. She didn’t know how long he’d been doing it, who was in charge of it, or how the kids participating were chosen. All she knew was that the camp lasted one week per age group and—judging by the way they were dressed—they all got lime green T-shirts when they arrived.
Rachel removed her tablet from her bag and began taking notes and some pictures, though she was careful not to get any of the kids’ faces in the shots. She walked over to the parents and assured them that no pictures of their children would be published without their written consent.
Finally there was a break in the action, and Gabe jogged over to her, wrapping his strong arms around her. She had the urge to grab his ass in his tight pants but managed to control herself. She didn’t think groping one of the players was appropriate for the setting they were in. That would have to wait until later when they were alone after the dinner they had planned.
“How long have you been here?” Gabe asked. “Did you see Manny? He’s around here somewhere.” He craned his neck to see over the crowd. He seemed so excited to share the experience with Rachel, and it made her even happier that she’d decided to come.
“Only about twenty minutes,” she said, answering his first question. And then, “And no, I didn’t see Manny yet. This place is insane. I can’t believe what a huge event this is.”
“Go big or go home,” Gabe said.
“Did you just make that up?” Rachel teased. “That’s a clever saying.”
“Shut up,” he joked. “But seriously, it has gotten pretty big over the years. When we first started it seven years ago, we had like four guys and a few groups of kids. It’s really expanded, especially the past few years. More and more guys wanna help, and more kids wanna come. It’s pretty awesome.”
“Wait,” Rachel said, confused. “So you were one of the ones who started this thing?”
“Yeah,” Gabe said, looking surprised that she asked him the question. “Didn’t I tell you that?”
“No, you didn’t tell me that.” Rachel’s voice grew louder, but it wasn’t out of anger. It was out of shock.
“Oh,” Gabe shrugged. And the smile on his face let her know that he knew he’d intentionally left that detail out. “I started it,” he said simply. “Well, me and my buddy, Justin. We both got picked up the same year, and we wanted to do something for the community since we were both new to it. Justin’s from Atlanta, and he wouldn’t have done a thing with his life if it weren’t for baseball, so we have that in common.”
“You would’ve done something,” Rachel tried to assure him.
“Nope. Probably not,” Gabe said casually. “The only reason my mom sent me to this country is because she figured if I had a shot to play baseball in college, I should get a better education than the one I was getting in Puerto Rico. No baseball, no education,” he said. “It’s that simple.”
The next group of kids arrived at Gabe’s spot on the field, and the other player instructing the group looked like he was waiting for Gabe to come over so they could begin. “Okay,” Gabe said, “I gotta get back to the kids, but if you wanna go talk to Justin, he’s over there.” Gabe pointed to one of the stations about ten yards away. “He’s the one wearing number twelve.”
Rachel looked in the direction Gabe had pointed. “Justin Adams?” she asked, though she already knew it was. The Premiers pitcher had two no-hitters and a perfect game on his resume. But instead of slowing down as he entered his thirties, it seemed he was just getting started. The last two years had been his best seasons by far, but his baseball stats weren’t the only thing that came to mind when Rachel thought of Justin. His name had also been on the customer list that Jared had sent her.
The first time she’d gone through all the names, she hadn’t even noticed Justin. It might have been because he had such a common name, and there were over fifteen hundred names on the list. But when she’d revisited the document the other day after talking to Rick, she’d noticed Justin because she’d narrowed down the list of people to those in a hundred-mile radius of Philadelphia. Maybe he was her guy.
“Thanks,” Rachel said. “I’ll go over there for a little bit and talk to him if he has a few minutes free.”
Gabe gave her a kiss on the cheek and told her he’d see her later. Then he jogged back over to greet the new group of waiting kids.
Rachel walked around again for a half hour or so, watching the players and kids working on various skills, and then she headed to where Justin was finishing up with a few boys who looked to be nine or ten. He was showing them the proper way to hold a ball and the right way to bring their leg up before a pitch. She waited for the boys to leave before approaching him. It was the first time she introduced herself as Gabriel Torres’s girlfriend, though she also identified herself as a reporter doing a story on the retired shortstop.
Justin was more than friendly and answered everything she asked. Unfortunately, she couldn’t directly ask him if the club existed, and oh, by the way, if it does, are you the owner of it? So she stuck to more innocent topics, like how the camp began and if they do any other volunteer work together. The only bit of information that was pertinent was that he and Gabe couldn’t find the time to add anything else major to their plate. Justin had spring training and then the season, so he only had a few months off. And Gabe had his hands full too, though Justin didn’t mention with what.
Neither of these guys even had time to run a club like that. There was no way a baseball player who traveled for half the year could have the responsibility of owning and managing an elite club. And there was no way Gabe could do it either. Though he was retired, he was always busy. She’d seen it herself. And now that she was in the picture, he had even less time. The realization sent a wave of relief undulating through her. And until she felt it, she didn’t know how badly she’d needed it.
***
“What’d you think?” Gabe asked as he trotted over to Rachel. Though his knee was stiff from the day’s activities, he couldn’t let it show. He didn’t want to look like some washed up old athlete in front of her. Not when he felt like he could conquer the world right now. It had been his first kids camp since his retirement, and though he was nervous beforehand, the day had turned out better than expected.
“It was so great. You were great,” she answered excitedly. She smiled proudly as she gave him a kiss that required her to turn his cap backwards. He fucking loved it. “I can tell how much you love working with these kids,” she added.
“Yeah, it’s something I’m good at so it ends up being awesome because we always get a few kids that come back the next year. Some you remember, and some you don’t. But it’s nice to hear how much they took away from their time here.” Gabe packed up some of the equipment and said goodbye to a few kids who were leaving.
“Can’t wear your headphones, I guess,” she said.
Gabe was confused for a second until he realized what she was talking about. “Oh yeah.” He laughed. “Gotta leave those at home. But truthfully, I love interacting with fans. Especially when they’re kids. They radiate excitement that’s kind of contagious.”
“You never get tired of it, though?” Rachel asked. “Like when you’re out in public?”
Gabe thought for a moment. “Who’s asking? Rachel the reporter, or Rachel my gorgeous girlfriend?” Gabe would never say anything that could lead the public to believe he was badmouthing them. And the truth was, the fans weren’t his biggest problem.
Rachel smiled. “Your girlfriend wants to know, but I guess it’s the reporter asking.”
Gabe nodded and adjusted his hat. “To be honest, the fans don’t recognize me much. I don’t think they expect to see a former professional athlete out and about. The real concern is the media. They’re everywhere, always looking for their next big story.”
“Hey,” Rachel said, tossing a nearby ball at him. “I thought you liked the media.”
Gabe smirked. “Eh, some of them are better than others.”
“Any ones in particular that you’re fond of?” Rachel asked, moving closer to help him put the last few things in his bag. The way she playfully bit her lip as she waited for him to answer made him want to put his own mouth on them.
“Not really,” Gabe joked. “They all kind of suck.” Anticipating Rachel’s playful shove, he moved back to avoid it and laughed when she missed. “Okay, so there may be one I have feelings for,” he admitted. Sliding his arms around her waist, he pulled her in close and kissed her gently on her forehead.
“That’s good,” she said. “Because I have some feelings for a certain baseball player too.”
“Ex-baseball player,” Gabe corrected her.
She shook her head slowly as she gazed up at him, and her eyes told him she knew what he was feeling: that he missed the game, and part of him—the part that wasn’t injured—regretted retiring. But as much as she could guess what it was like to leave something you’ve done your entire life, she would never know how it truly felt. Very few people did. Even his two best friends had no idea. It was one of the reasons he liked talking to other retired players at the club: it felt good to know that people understood where he was coming from.
“Nah,” Rachel said, rubbing the back of his short hair with her nails. “You’re still a baseball player. Even though you’re not in the game anymore, the game will always be in you.”
Somehow with that one sentence, she made him feel a little bit better about everything. Because even though he’d lost something, he’d gained something even better.