The Dugout(88)

“What’s with the bag?”

“I have to collect some dirt. I collect dirt from every field I’ve played on that’s had an impact on me.”

“That’s really cute. How many bags do you have?”

“I keep the dirt in vials actually. The bag is just for transportation purposes, but I’ve collected a few. One from the field I made my first home run, my high school field obviously. The field I won the little league world series on, another where I had my first cycle, and then of course, field six.”

Her eyes widen, a soft expression following. “As in our field six?”

“Yeah, because that’s where I realized you were the girl I wanted by my side at all times.”

“That’s really sweet, Carson.” She cups my cheek and presses a kiss to my lips, her tongue peeking out and her mouth lingering for a second longer than anticipated, exciting me. I have plans for tonight, just her and me, but first, I want to hang with my girl here.

“It’s true,” I answer before giving her the bag. “Hold this open for me?”

She takes it and I scoop some dirt up from the field, placing it in the bag marked Brentwood Baseball, and then I zip it back up and stick it in my pocket.

I wrap my arms around her waist and squeeze her tightly, soaking in her scent, her presence. These last few moments I have with her before the next chapter in my life starts are incredibly important to me. I want her to remember that it’s me and her in this journey, that we’re going the distance.

“Thank you for being here today, it meant a lot to me.” I kiss the side of her head. “I haven’t really had anyone cheering for me personally in the stands in a really long time. Honestly, I think it dates back to little league when my dad didn’t work as much. It was phenomenal knowing you were there for me.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” she says, playing with the brim of my hat that is now backward. “I love watching you play. It’s like poetry on the field. You’re so smooth and accurate with everything you do, one of the best second basemen I’ve ever seen.”

“Ah, you’re just saying that.”

She cups my cheek and shakes her head. “I’m really not. I’ve seen a lot of baseball games and you have what it takes to go all the way, to make an impact on the sport. I’m really excited for the next chapter in your life.”

“Me too.” I kiss the tip of her nose and then hug her, resting my chin on her shoulder. “It’s so unreal that it’s all over, that I won’t play another game here. It might sound lame, but this is where I grew into a man. I came to Brentwood as a boy with big dreams. Coach Disik put us through hell, challenged us mentally, physically, took everything we had to give, and prepared us for the big leagues, but with the knowledge that it’s up to us if we succeed or not.”

“And you will,” she says. “It will take a few years like it does for every prospect, but you’re on the fast track. I know it.”

“Thanks, Coach,” I say softly, sighing and staring out at the field. “Ending my career with—”

My phone rings, and I check the caller ID.

Dad.

Excited, I say, “It’s my dad. He said he’d call when he’s off work. Mind if I take this?”

“Not at all.”

I swipe my finger across the screen and answer, “Hey Dad. How are you?”

“Carson, it’s Aunt Carol.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight.

“Aunt Carol . . . is everything okay?” Milly’s body stiffens, and she turns to face me.

“Oh honey, I wish I had a better reason to call you, but your dad had a stroke today.”

“A stroke?” I swallow hard, my vision starting to turn black around me. “Is he . . . okay?” Milly rests her hand against my heart, eyes shooting back and forth over mine.

“Well, he’s in critical condition right now. We’re still waiting to hear back from the doctors, but I thought I should give you a call.”

“Yeah, I appreciate it. Umm.” I pause. “Shit, I don’t know what to do. Is it serious?”

“Yes, sweetie. It is. He was unconscious for a good amount of time.”

My throat tightens and my mind quickly falls to my dad and his ragged and tired eyes. Fuck. Before I can stop myself, I say, “I’ll get a flight out as soon as I can. Text me the details.”

“Okay, sweetie. See you soon.”

I hang up the phone and pocket it. Milly hops off my lap as we both stand, my mind on one thing, talking to Coach and then getting to my dad.

“Carson, what happened?”

My voice cracking, I say, “My dad had a stroke, and it’s not looking good. I need to get to him.”

“Of course, what can I do to help?”

I drag my hand over my face and then reach into my pocket. “Take the dirt back to the loft for me and pack me a bag? I need to talk to Coach Disik. Can you find me a flight too? The earliest one to Topeka.” I pat my pockets and groan. “Fuck, I don’t have my wallet, it’s in the locker.”

She presses her hand against my arm. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll book everything.”

“Milly, I’m not—”

“We’ll figure it out later. Go talk to Coach, shower, and I’ll meet you out front. I’ll drive you to the airport.”