Page 135 of Hiding in the Outfield

“I mean, not even fucking close, Madz. But all I care about right now is Jackson. In a matter of hours, his entire life got turned upside down, and he got shipped out across the country. Alone. New team. No family. No friends. No place to live.”

“His agent is working through logistics. He’ll be put up in a temporary spot. But yeah, I imagine he’s terrified. Not to mention the anxiety of playing his first major league game tomorrow.”

His first major league…

I frown at Maddy. For Berkeley, Frank. I had thought…I had just thought he meant Berkeley’s Triple-A team.

Holy fucking shit. He made it. God, his dream is coming true.

This is the worst-best news I’ve ever heard.

“This isn’t how this is going to happen.”

Maddy cocks his head. “I…am not following.”

I whip out my phone and pull up the internet browser. I glance at Maddy. “That man has had no one in his corner his entire life. He finally got to feel what it’s like to have a family. You, East, Shane, Paulie, Jed, me.” I look back at my phone and tap away furiously. “When family needs you, you drop everything to be there for them.”

“What are you going to do, Frank?”

“I’m going to California. You better believe I’ll be waiting for him when he finishes his first big league game.”

My phone dings, and I dive for it. Except…I can’t fucking find it. I let out an outraged growl and start throwing clothes. It’s in this mess somewhere. My room looks like a tornado. I may have packed a little more…vigorously than was necessary. But my heart hasn’t slowed down since Maddy told me the news. I booked myself the earliest flight I could find. Which is leaving Boston at 8 a.m. Which means I need to be at the airport at 6 a.m. Which means I need to leave here at five. And right now, it’s…

“Aha!” I found the bastard. I click on my phone, and my shoulders sag. It’s 1:30 in the morning. I snap straight. It’s fine. I’ve totally got this. If I don’t stop moving, I’ll be fine.

I tap to Jackson’s text thread.

Jackson

Just landed. You still up?

I hastily type a reply.

Me

The doubt. It hurts, loverboy.

My phone rings.

I click to make it a video call. Who does this boy think he is?

Jackson’s face fills my screen—and my heart squeezes painfully tight. Dark circles line his bloodshot eyes, his lids dragging so low they look like they’re fighting a losing battle to stay open. Bone-deep exhaustion edged with hopelessness stares back at me.

“Dolcezza,” I whisper.

Those blue eyes well up.

“Baby, no. This is going to be okay.”

His lips press tight, whitening at the corners. God dammit. I wish I were there.

“None of that,” I say firmly. “You’re playing in your first major league game tomorrow. It’s happening for you, Jackson. This is your moment. I’m so. Damn. Proud of you. All I want you to worry about is resting up and recharging and then walking out on that field tomorrow—Dear Lord, tonight—and fucking killing it.”

He still doesn’t seem capable of words.

“Jackson, it’s going to be okay. One day at a time, babe.”

“I’m all the way across the country, Frank.” His voice is rough with disuse, or maybe strain. There’s defeat in it. A defeat that’s a kick to the gut.