Page 93 of Run Home

“I’ll start sketching up ideas for later this year, then,” she says as she nuzzles her face against my neck.

Would it be a terrible idea to propose right now? I’m ready for every night to be like this one.

I do know that’s an impulsive, if not terrible, idea, so I change topics. “My dad is coming to visit in a few weeks when we have back-to-back home series. You’ll finally get to meet him.”

Samantha presses a hand against my chest to prop herself up to sitting. “I can’t wait! What’s he like? Like you or different?”

“A little of both. He loves people, but he’s not quite as extroverted as I am,” I say.

She laughs. “I don’t think anyone can quite match your energy. How long will he be here?”

“Only for a week. But I’m trying to talk him into moving here permanently,” I explain. “I know I could get a long-term visa for him since I have citizenship now. So I’m hoping to show him around, let him see some options of where he could live, and maybe he’ll decide to do it.”

“I’ll do my best to convince him how awesome Kansas City is. You should bring him out here to your porch at night,” Samantha suggests, motioning a hand around. “You can see a lot of the stars here. Almost as many as my parents’ house.”

She stares up at the sky, and I stare at her, drinking in her profile against heaven’s pinpricks of light. I’ll never get tired of this view. Proposing immediately is once again a tempting thought that I have to shove away hard.

I reach up and tuck Samantha’s hair behind her ear, skimming my fingers along the soft skin of her neck. She shivers, then looks at me. “Thank you again for coming after me yesterday.”

Sitting up straight, I lean close and swear, “I will always come after you. I will always meet you wherever you are. You just have to tell me where that is, okay?”

Samantha nods and answers honestly. “I really will try. You might have to be patient sometimes, but I promise I’ll try.”

“We’re both on a learning curve here,” I say. “But I’m committed to learning together.”

Her eyes are soft, brimming with gratitude, as she whispers, “I love you.”

Leaning in the rest of the way, I kiss her until the line between heaven and earth has evaporated completely.

Although it’s torture to wake up extra early after an exhausting two days, I’ve been trying to keep meeting Carson where he’s at. Which, unfortunately, is typically the team gym an hour before our official report time.

But we have been gelling better recently, so I’ll stick with the additional workouts. Because although we have our hopes set on a World Series run every year, this really does feel like our year.

Carson is already sweating as he does lateral twists with the cable pulls when I walk in. He sees me and looks over my shoulder. “What, no camera crew today?”

Rolling my eyes, I ask, “What are you punishing yourself for this time?” I swing my arms, trying to wake up my muscles.

Pausing his movement, Carson grimaces. “Missed that hit to the edge of the shortstop hole on Wednesday because I didn’t stretch out fast enough.”

I remember the play he’s talking about. We both dove for the ball and both missed. But only one of us should have caught it.

“That one was my fault,” I say as I pick up a set up dumbbells for biceps curls. “It was closer to me. I should have had it. But I was distracted and not playing my best on Wednesday.”

Carson snorts. “Distracted thinking up your next move for the Ortiz highlights?”

And there goes all that progress I thought we’d made. Straight out the window.

Dropping the dumbbells on the ground, I straighten and take a step toward Carson. He stops twisting the cable. “Is that really what you think of me?” I ask.

“I was kidding, man,” he says. “Aren’t you the one always telling me to lighten up?”

“Yeah, I am.” My tone tightens. “Because most of the time you’re so busy dissecting every mistake and planning punishments for yourself that you forget we’re playing a game we enjoy. You’re good, Hendricks. Maybe if you weren’t so in your head all the time, your instincts would have the chance to make you great.”

Carson matches my step forward, leaving mere inches between our chests. He’s a couple of inches taller than me, but I stretch to my full height. His eyes blaze as he says, “It might be a game, but it’s also my dream. I’ve worked hard my entire life to get here. I’m not going to ‘lighten up’ and risk losing it all now because I can’t fill the last guy’s shoes.”

His final statement deflates any aggression in my chest. “Wait, is that what you’re so worried about? Not living up to West?”

Carson’s face twists with a scowl. “Be for real. There’s not a single Kansas City fan who’s happy I’m here. They all miss the Wizard. And who could blame them when he’s one of the best? I don’t need to goof off with you and make fans think I’m trying to be West when it’s obvious I never will be.”