Left Field Love
: Chapter 22

“Hey, Caleb.”

I glance up from the bucket of baseballs, already knowing exactly what I’ll see. Sophie St. James is leaning against the chain link fence. Either her practice must have just ended or she stayed late like I did, because she’s wearing a spandex tank top and soccer shorts.

“Hey.” I straighten and swipe my forehead with my arm, brushing away the sweat that’s collected there before tugging the brim of my hat back down.

“Why am I not surprised you’re the last one out here?”

“Probably because I always am.” I shoot her a small smile before uncapping my water bottle and taking a long pull. The ice in it has long since melted, drops of condensation all that remains. They fall to the dirt as I set my water back on the bench, forming tiny puddles.

“Came to see if you want to get dinner later. There’s some Mexican place downtown that just opened.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Come on.” Sophie leans over the fence, offering up a prime view of her cleavage. I quickly look down at the bucket, grabbing a ball and rubbing my thumb along the red laces. “You’ve been out here all day. Carrie and Lexi are coming. And Brian said he’d round up a bunch of the guys.”

“Of course he did.” I shake my head. In the three weeks I’ve known Brian, I’ve learned he is physically incapable of turning down a drink. Or a hot girl. “We only have five days left.”

“Exactly. Summer is almost over. Have a little fun, Caleb.”

I toss the ball in the air and catch it. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Yay! Okay, I’ll see you later.” Sophie smiles, then jogs off toward the cabins.

I pick up the bucket before trudging back out to the mound. Even Zach is gone. He begged off an hour ago, leaving me without a catcher.

That’s fine. I don’t need one.

Baseball is a team sport. But this little patch of earth in the center of the diamond can often feel like an island. And I’m marooned with the responsibility of controlling the score of the game.

I raise my leg and draw my hands into my chest, preparing to pitch. My arms follow my stride as I push off from the mount and let the ball fly. It’s a perfect strike, rattling the chain of the backstop with its force.

I keep practicing until the sun starts to sink, finally providing some relief after a sweltering day. I clean up all the equipment and then head toward the cabins.

When I enter mine, the three guys I’m bunking with are all lounging around in the air conditioning. Hugh is sprawled out on the couch, sipping a beer.

Brian looks up first. “Tell me you’re not just getting back from the field, Winters.”

“I’m not just getting back from the field.”

Brian swears, then shakes his head. “Man, you’re a machine.”

“Isn’t your arm dead?” my fourth roommate, Charlie, asks.

I flex my shoulder. “Nah. It feels good. I’ll ice it, after I shower.”

“Hurry up. We’re headed to dinner soon.” Brian straightens and stretches. “Sophie told you, right?”

“Yeah, she told me.”

“I’ll bet she did.”

I roll my eyes, then head into the bathroom to shower.

Brian basically shoves me out of the door as soon as I’m ready, eager to get going. My stomach grumbles as we drive along the long road that leads to downtown.

Mayfair is considered the best baseball camp in the country. It’s located on a huge complex that hosts a bunch of other training programs, including football and soccer. The only upside of the relentless heat is that Kentucky feels cooler by comparison.

The downtown section is larger than I expected the first time I came here, the summer before starting college. It’s supported by a nearby college in the colder months, and by the hundreds of athletes that attend Mayfair camps in the summer. Lots of new places pop up regularly, like the Mexican place we’re headed to tonight.

My stomach grumbles as soon as we walk inside the restaurant. I haven’t eaten since lunch, and burned a few hundred calories since. I’m starving.

Sophie is already sitting with a large group in one of the corner booths.

A loud cheer goes up when they spot us. Brian has the big personality that makes him the life of the party. And, as conceited as it sounds, I’ve always been popular without trying. I used to think it was my last name. But no one here aside from Sophie associates it with anything but the season. So I guess some of it is just…me.

I end up wedged between Brian and Hugh. At least arriving last means we’re at one end of the circular table, but it’s still a tight fit. There are already pitchers of margarita on the table. I ignore the cocktails and fill a plate with chips and salsa instead.

“You guys were outside all day?” Joel Maguire asks Brian. He’s here for football, not baseball.

Brian groans dramatically. “Yeah. You?”

“Nah, we lifted weights inside for a while.”

“Lucky.” Hugh grumbles to my left.

The waitress appears to take our orders. I glance over the menu, deciding on a chicken burrito. After enough ribbing from Brian, I order a beer too. He means well, but he doesn’t love baseball. Not the way I do. He—and most of the other guys I’ve played with—leave the game on the field. I’ve never been able to do that.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. My mom and Lennon are the only two people who call instead of text, and my mom is in Paris right now. It’s the middle of the night there.

I elbow Brian, who’s blocking me in. “Move.”

He sighs, dramatically. “We just got here.”

“Lennon is calling. I mean it, man. Move.”

“She is? Let me say hi.”

It took one phone call for Lennon to charm my three roommates with her sarcasm and lack of baseball knowledge. Charlie answered my phone one time when I was in the bathroom, and it got passed around the guys. Brian hasn’t shut up about talking to her again since.

“No. Get your own girlfriend.”

“Wouldn’t be fair to all the ladies who want some of this.” Brian gestures to himself.

I pretend to vomit as my phone continues to buzz. I’m worried the call is going to go to voicemail, so I pull it out of my pocket and answer. “Hey. Hold on, Brian is being…himself.”

“Hey!” Brian protests, as I forcibly shove him out of the booth. I’ve got a few inches and several pounds of muscle on him.

The front of the restaurant is crowded with people waiting for tables, and the music is loud. So I head back out into the heat, crossing the street and sitting at a bench in front of the local library.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s why I keep calling you. I never know what to expect.”

I laugh, running a hand through my hair and wishing it wasn’t still so damn warm out. “That’s the reason, huh?”

“I guess it helps that you’re hot, too.”

I sweat off the sunscreen, no matter how many times I reapply. My cheeks hurt when I smile, but I do it anyway. “At least you can admit it without freaking out, now.”

“I didn’t freak out, that’s a massive exaggeration.”

Sometimes, Lennon and I feel a long ways from who we used to be in high school. But there are also times I miss it, when Lennon sitting across from me with peanut butter and a scowl on her face doesn’t feel that long ago.

“Whatever you say, Matthews.”

“I ran into Colt yesterday.”

I lean back against the bench. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. He has big plans for Saturday.”

“I’m sure he does. Jake’s influence, probably.”

“He said to answer his texts.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“He said you’d say that, too.”

I huff a laugh. “His family has a place on Palsky Lake. He wants to go up there, after his party, and stay a couple of nights.”

“That sounds fun.”

Long-distance relationships are hard. But by far the worst part about being in a long-distance relationship with Lennon is she’s hard to read. I have a difficult enough time telling what she’s thinking in person. Over the phone, it’s almost impossible.

“I don’t have to go.”

“He’s one of your best friends, Caleb.”

“Yeah, so he’ll understand if I don’t go.”

“You’ve been gone most of the summer.”

“Exactly. I miss you, Lennon.”

“I miss you too. But you can still—”

“Will you come with me?” The question spills out without thinking.

“To Colt’s family’s lake house?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fun.”

“I can’t leave Gramps.”

“Yes, you can!” I hear called in the background. I smile automatically. Earl Matthews is one of my favorite people on the planet, and not only because I’m in love with his granddaughter.

“I thought you were asleep, Gramps. Stop eavesdropping!”

There’s some rustling in the background that makes me think Lennon moved to a different part of the farmhouse. “You were saying?” I tease.

“Miraculous, how his hearing is perfect when I’m on the phone with you but the baseball games have to be blasting for him to follow the innings.”

“Did he watch the Jays game last night?”

“Did you forget who you’re talking to?”

I snort, then sober. “I know you worry about him. But it’s only two nights, Len. You. Me. Our own room…”

My attraction toward Lennon has never just been physical. Even when I met her as a hormone-filled fourteen-year-old, I was just as interested in talking to her as I was in anything physical. But I miss sex. Brian sneaks a different girl into our cabin most nights.

“Isn’t it supposed to be a guys’ trip?”

“They’ll all prefer if you’re there. Trust me.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to Gramps.”

Just like that, my mood soars.

We talk for a few more minutes, catching up on each other’s days. I’m tempted to ask Lennon if she’s heard back from Clarkson. But she doesn’t mention it, so I don’t bring it up. We’ve made it two and a half years attending different schools. I have no doubts we’ll make it through another.

As soon as I step back inside the restaurant, I hear my name called. Sophie is standing at the bar, waving me over. “They’re slammed, so I came over here to get the next round,” she explains when I reach her.

“Did the food arrive?” I ask, glancing at our table. “I’m starving.”

Sophie doesn’t answer. She steps closer, bringing the smell of lime and tequila with her. “I’m really glad you came tonight, Caleb.”

I step away, some of the relaxation following my call with Lennon evaporating. “This is getting old. I have a girlfriend, Sophie.”

She licks some salt off the rim of her margarita. “I was so excited when my parents said you’d committed to Clarkson, you know. You were pissed about moving to Landry. Figured you’d never look back at that town, once you left for college.”

“Things change.”

“My parents expect us to get married. Your parents expect us to get married.”

I don’t react.

“Yeah.” Sophie exhales. “I figured that wouldn’t happen when every girl on campus—including me—threw herself at you and you didn’t look twice at anyone. Even when you were single.”

“You’ll meet someone special, Sophie, and it’ll make sense.”

Sophie scoffs and sips her drink. “I hope she knows how lucky she is.”

I grin. “I think she’s more resigned to being stuck with me at this point.”

As soon as she agreed to try, I pursued Lennon with a tenacity I’d only ever applied to baseball. For weeks, I called her every night at seven p.m. sharp. Every free weekend, I drove back to Landry. She told me she was scared of not being a priority, and I was hell-bent on proving her wrong. Still am, honestly. Part of the reason I’ve been the last player to leave the field each day is that I’m not going to do any training once I’m back in Landry. My plan is to do nothing but spend time with Lennon until I have to leave for Clarkson and start senior year.

Sophie shakes her head. “I was sure you’d turn into some massive player. People cheat, Caleb. They fight and change and get bored. You know that as well as I do.”

“We’re not our parents.” Mr. and Mrs. St. James’s marriage is about as happy as my parents’ is. That is to say, not at all. Maybe why they’re all such good friends.

“Not yet,” Sophie predicts darkly.

“You’re drunk.”

“Yep.” She smiles and takes another sip of margarita. “You should have tried one. They’re good.”

“No, thanks.”

“Should I hook up with Travis or Carter tonight, do you think?”

I roll my eyes. “No comment.”

Sophie huffs. “So, when did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you loved Lennon.”

I sigh. “Sophie…”

“I’m being serious!” she insists. “You’re the only guy I know in a long-term relationship. The only guy I know who wants to be in a long-term relationship.”

When I look over, her expression is earnest. Like me, Sophie grew up with a terrible model for romantic relationships. Maybe she really is curious. Maybe this will finally end her flirting. I’m not sure her interest even has all that much to do with me. Sophie just likes a challenge.

“I don’t know when I was sure I loved her. My feelings just grew and grew to a point when I knew I did. But I knew I could love her the first time we met. Something about her just…stuck. Remember that telescope I got in seventh grade?”

She slaps a hand on the counter. “God, yes! I forgot how much of a nerd you were when you got hot.”

I snort. “Anyway, it was kind of like that. My life was like a constellation I’d memorized. I knew where everything was, what everything looked like. Had the whole path memorized. High school, then college, then pros. And Lennon was like a shooting star, dimming everything else. Impossible to ignore. She changed the way everything else looked. There was suddenly a before I knew her, and an after.” I shrug. “Like I said, you’ll get it one day.”

“A guy who describes me as a shooting star? I’m more likely to discover a unicorn.” She scowls.

I laugh and shake my head. “Do you need help with the drinks?”

“No. It was mostly a ploy to get you over here and see if you guys broke up just now?”

I stare at her, brow raised. “I know, I know. She’s an eclipse. I got it. Food arrived a while ago, you should go eat.”

I nod, then head for the table.