Stealing Reese (Wildcat Graduates Book 5), page 13
“I’ll just grab my bag and meet you downstairs.”
“See you in a few minutes.” He ends the call, never one to draw things out, leaving me to gather my things and meet them in the lobby.
Meeting my parents downstairs, I’m surprised to see Delilah sitting on the couch with them.
“Dillon,” she smiles, meeting me halfway. She captures me in an enthusiastic hug that I have no choice but to return.
“Hey, Dee.” I laugh at her greeting, hugging her back one-armed. “What are you doing here?”
“Surprise!” She pulls away enough to look at me, a huge smile permanently etched on her face.
By this time, my parents have joined us, both of them smiling at Delilah and me.
“We knew you two were close and I might have mentioned it to her parents about coming with us this weekend,” Mother answers, leaning into Dad’s side as he hugs her to him.
“Of course, I jumped at the chance since I’ve never gotten to see you play,” Dee says moving away to stand at my side. She looks much happier than the last time I saw her. I’m glad.
“Well, we’d better get going if we’re going to have enough time to eat. We don’t need for you to arrive at the fieldhouse late.” He slaps me on the shoulder as we turn and leave the dorm.
Sitting together at one of the small restaurants just off campus we wait for our food while my parents talk about my future in baseball.
“I hope you’re on your game today,” Dad says before drinking some of his coffee. “I want you to play your best.” We’ve talked, albeit very briefly, about my relationship with Reese and he knows how it’s affected my performance. Fortunately Mother doesn’t seem to be clued in to this situation.
“I know you’ll play very well, dear,” she says patting my arm in a simple gesture that I’ve missed being on the receiving end of the past few years. It’s nice.
“It’s a very big tournament, especially since there will be several pro scouts watching all the teams.” I spent yesterday prepping myself to be in top form for these games and I plan on giving them something to talk about.
“You still wanting to play pro ball?” Dad questions as the waitress begins passing out our food and refilling our beverages.
“Yes, sir. More than anything.” We remain quiet for a few minutes, getting our meals just the way we want them before starting to eat.
Fork hanging in mid air, he replies, “Your mother and I want you to be happy, and if pursuing this is what you want to do, then we support you,” before taking a bite.
I’m actually speechless, unable to decide how to respond when Mother chimes in.
“We’re only concerned about your finishing college. What if something happened to you and baseball was no longer an option? As your parents we just want you to be prepared for anything.” The soft sincerity in her voice is a refreshing change from her usual over-critical dialogue. She and Dad must have had a really good chat about all of this.
“I have thought about it. There’s been nothing to indicate I would get drafted now, so I plan to finish school. That’s always been a given for me.” Delilah has remained quiet during our conversation, and I’m sorry she’s had to endure it.
“That’s good to hear, son, but you’re a natural player. They’re going to want you.” Dad’s confidence in me is slightly overwhelming, intensifying when Mother speaks up.
“Your father is right. We’ve seen you play in high school and even games here in Magnolia. You’re amazing.” What? When?
Plopping the fork back on my plate, I’m unable to do anything other than stare at them. Dee’s hand coming to rest on my thigh snaps me out of my silence. “What do you mean? You two were always busy with work.” Quickly casting a confused glance at my friend, I see she’s as stunned as I am.
“Is that what you think?” Mother asks, hand over her heart and eyes sad.
“Son, we’ve always found time to watch your games. If we couldn’t be there in person, we watched the replays on the internet as soon as we had a chance. YouTube is a pretty handy tool these days,” he grins, proud of how well he’s thrown me off.
“That and several other parents who were generous and thoughtful enough to send us copies of the videos they made.” Her smile is bright, showing a touch of amusement at telling me something I didn’t know.
Dee’s grip on my thigh gets tighter and I can see her smiling at me, just like they are. Again, speechless.
“We love you, Dillon,” Dad’s voice penetrates my muddled thoughts, melting away all the animosity I’ve held onto for the past several years. Four words and I’m a kid again.
“Now,” she interrupts, “let’s finish eating so we can get you over to the fieldhouse before your coach sends out a search party. I will not have you being late, young man.”
And just like that, things are right where they should be.
It’s a long day of ball before we are finally done for the day. There will be more games to be played tomorrow, but for today, we couldn’t have played better.
“Great job, boys,” the assistant coach tells us as we’re gathered together in the dugout. We’ve just won our last game for the evening, by ten points, and we’re all revved up over our near shutout victory. Once he has our full attention, Coach steps in with his post game speech.
“You’ve really put your game faces on and focused on the game today. Coach Scott and I are extremely proud of this team and can’t wait to show those teams tomorrow just what it feels like to be trampled by Muleriders!” We all cheer and shout our own opinions of how we’re going to beat our opponents, eliciting satisfied, if not a little amused, grins from the coaching staff.
“Alright, alright,” he says, laughing at our excitement as he tries to quiet us down. The cheering slows, allowing him to go on. “I expect y’all to call it an early night and get plenty of rest tonight in order to be ready to bring your A-game tomorrow. A lot of scouts and other important people will be there, along with half the student body, watching every move you make.” He lets his eyes roam over each and every one of us, the seriousness in his expression not lost on a single player. After several minutes of silence, he says, “Now, go on and get outta here. We’ll see you bright and early at the fieldhouse.”
“Yes, Coach,” we all bark back in our usual reply, gathering up the last of our gear before taking it back to the locker room.
Just as I turn to leave, the Coach motions for me to walk with him. Catching his stride, we walk a short distance away before he speaks. “Great job out there today. You, Matthews, and Daniels really play well together.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I know your parents are here this weekend, so I won’t keep you any longer. Just play as well, or better, tomorrow and I have every confidence everything will fall into place.”
“Yes, sir. I will,” I promise, more determined than ever to achieve my goal of going pro.
“None of that ‘sir’ shit.” He cuffs me on the shoulder and chuckles. “Get on with it and go spend time with the family.”
Nodding with a grin, I leave Coach to walk back at his own pace, my mind flooded with the very real possibilities I might be blessed with after tomorrow’s games.
“Hey, girl!” Xana’s overly chipper voice floods my ears when I answer the phone. It’s just after midnight on Friday, Ty having just left my dorm, and I’m too tired to deal with that level of sunshine.
“What has you so happy?” I question, flinging myself backward to lie crossways on my bed.
“Shut up, cranky wench,” the seriousness of her scolding lost among the giggles that escape her.
“You mean cranky bitch. Say it.”
“Anyway,” she draws out, “I was calling to see if you wanted to go with us to watch the guys play in the tournament tomorrow. All their parents are coming and it’s supposed to be a really big tournament.”
“Yeah, Ty and Aaron have been talking about it all week. Well, all the guys in their dorm, really.”
“Are you and Ty going?”
“I’m not sure. He didn’t exactly mention it before he left. I’d have to ask.”
“How are things with you two going?” she asks, a shuffling of the receiver heard on my end.
“They’re good. We’re taking it slow, but he’s really good to me,” I smile to myself, thinking about how attentive he is to me and the way he always tweaks my nose when I laugh.
There’s a slight pause before she speaks. “Have you talked to Dillon lately?” I can hear the hesitance in her voice and sigh, wishing this topic would be forgotten.
“Not since we broke up,” I reply, remembering how confusing the last few weeks I dated Dillon were. Could I even call it that? Dating?
“Oh.” Still hesitant to pry, I see.
“Spit it out,” I demand, ready for her to get to the point.
“I just hope that the two of you can still be friends, at least. At some point.” I’m well aware of just how much she’s torn up over how things turned out with us, and it twists something inside me.
Releasing a sigh, I come to a sitting position and say, “I don’t hate him, Xan. I get it that he’s focusing on baseball, you know I do. Blain, my brother and your childhood best friend, was the same way, remember?”
“Yeah, he was,” she groans, no doubt recalling her own memories of my brother.
“It was his lack of communication and disregard for me and my feelings - however unintentional it was - that I just couldn’t put up with anymore. Ross, the ex, did that to me and I vowed to myself that I’d never let that happen again.” There’s a moment of semi-awkward silence between us before I’m ready to speak again. “I don’t blame him for anything. It happened and it’s over, but he’ll always be someone special to me. A friend.” There. I’ve said it. There may be a few lingering feelings, but we’re just not in the same place right now.
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay with it now. I was afraid you were avoiding hanging out with us because of it.” She would think that.
“Of course not. It is a little awkward, but I’ve just been busy with classes and spending time with Ty and Aaron.”
“We’ve missed you! So, you’ll come watch the games with us tomorrow? Please,” she stretches out causing me to laugh.
“Okay, okay! Calm down, woman. I’ll ask Tyler about it, but I’m not really sure we’ll go.” I try to appease her without making promises.
“Yay!” she squeals, enticing me to laugh even louder. “I know he may have some reservations, but I can still hope we get to see you.”
“Lawd, people’d think you just won the lottery with the way you’re being so dramatic,” I tease when I’ve composed myself enough to speak.
“Oh, shut up!”
“Sweetness,” I hear Noel call for her in the background.
“You’re being summoned,” I giggle, “so I’d better go.”
“Okay, but call me as soon as you know something so we can meet up.”
“Xan,” he says, his voice louder.
“Bye!” I end the call, only to have the phone ring in my hand.
“Hello?” I answer without looking to see who is calling.
“Hey.” Tyler.
“Do you have my room bugged? Xana and I were just talking about you.” Honestly, could his timing get any better?
My assumption makes him laugh. “I’m simply lucky. It was all good, I hope.” His rumbling chuckle sends a shiver down my torso like it always does. His good natured personality soothes me more often than not.
“Yeah, it was good. Why am I graced with a call this late? I just saw you not long ago,” I inquire, still amused at his cockiness.
“Just wanted to say goodnight and see if you had any plans for tomorrow.”
“Are you sure you didn’t bug my room somehow?”
“What are you talking about now?” The confused tone makes me giggle.
“Xana asked if we were going to watch any of the tournament tomorrow. She wants us to hang out and watch with them. Says everyone’s parents will be in town for it.” After Ty’s reaction to the fight Dillon and I had, I’m not so sure watching him play would be on the top of his list of fun things to do.
“I’m not sure I like that,” he admits. I can tell that he’s really torn, but doesn’t want to outright tell me no.
“I understand,” I reply, knowing where his concern lies. “You know you have nothing to worry about, right? Not with me and Dillon. There’s nothing there to interfere with us.”
“I know you feel that way, but he sure as hell wasn’t happy about your breaking up with him.”
“No, but he knew why we had to. It’s not like he’s tried anything since. We haven’t even talked.” Truth is, I’ve spent more time with Tyler and his friends so that it would be less awkward for us and our friends. I don’t want them to feel like they have to choose between the two of us.
“I get what you’re saying, but I’m still not very comfortable with it.” He sighs, mirroring my own stress from this topic of conversation. “I’m not trying to keep you from your friends.”
“I know that, and I understand your concerns. If you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. Xana’s the one who brought it up.” I really didn’t think my mentioning tomorrow’s game would bring about this conversation.
“Fuck, now I feel like an ass.”
“Stop. You’re completely within your rights to feel that way about going. Why did you call me anyway? You just left here thirty minutes ago.” Gotta get him to switch gears before things get more tense.
“I wanted to see if you’d like to go up to the lake tomorrow.”
“Oh, really now?”
“Yup,” he confirms, laughing this time. “Aaron and the guys were talking about going after lunch. That a good time?” That’s my typical Tyler, always thinking to include me in his plans with friends. He’s so thoughtful.
“It’s a date. Thank goodness y’all weren’t planning on going early,” I smile even though he can’t see me.
“No way. Not only do I know how you love to sleep in on the weekends, but this floor doesn’t wake up before ten in the morning... on Saturdays and Sundays, anyway.”
“Aww, the Princesses need their beauty sleep, too,” I joke, both of us amused at the thought.
“You’re awful,” he says, shaking his head at me, no doubt.
“You didn’t disagree, “ I point out. He’s rolling his eyes now, I’m positive.
“Yeah, yeah,” he shuffles the phone, a loud fumbling noise fills my ear. “Meet you in your lobby around eleven? They want to grab lunch before heading out.”
“You’re on. I have a load of laundry I need to do before we leave since everyone’ll be out at the ballfield.”
“Fine with me,” he agrees. “See you then. ‘Night, babe.”
“‘Night,” I softly reply, touched that he consistently calls to say goodnight.
Our call ends leaving me missing him and a little sad about not seeing my friends tomorrow.
Well, today seeing as it’s nearly twelve forty-five in the morning. They’re really good at the game, and I love watching those boys play baseball.
“That was an incredible game you played, son,” Dad cuffs my shoulder as I meet them outside the field when the game is over. We won 15 to 7.
“Yes, it was amazing to watch you play. You’ve certainly grown a lot since you’ve been playing here,” Mother adds, hugging me with a huge smile on her face. “We’re so proud of you,” she says quietly in my ear, firming up my hug in return. I’ve waited for years to hear those five words.
“Thanks, Mom,” I smile against her neck. She lifts her head away from my chest with a jerk and stares at me with shock in her eyes.
“Mom,” she repeats barely loud enough for me to understand. I’m glad she noticed. I haven’t called her that since I was in middle school. With a warm smile, I hug her tightly a second time and pull away to talk to Delilah.
“Great game, Dee,” she squeals when my attention is focused on her, her bare arms encircling me in a friendly embrace. “I knew you’d be good, but wow!” Her laughter is infectious, the rest of us joining her.
“Maybe next time when I tell you I’m the man, you’ll listen,” I wink, grinning like an idiot. Her slapping my chest is her only response, except for the roll of her eyes.
Before anything else can be said, Coach and a man I’ve never seen come to stand beside us. “Dillon. Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery,” he addresses us shaking my parents’ hands and nodding to Delilah. “This in Randall Craig. He’s a scout for the Houston Astros.” He motions to the man, stepping aside so he can greet us as well.
“That was an amazing game you just played. In fact, both games today were exceptional,” he says, leaving me near speechless.
“Thank you, sir. That means a lot coming from you.”
“I liked what I saw and am prepared to make you an offer.”
“That’s wonderful, Mr. Craig,” Mom says politely, but Dad’s stance stiffens as his arms cross in front of his chest, lawyer mode fully engaged.
“What are you proposing for Dillon?” he questions, his tone all business, his paternal role tucked neatly away. This is why he’s as successful as he is.
“We’d like,” he turns to me, “to fly you out to Houston to meet with the GM and manager. They’ll want to see you work out with the team,” He pauses to look at my parents. “If they like what they see and feel you’ll be a good fit, then we can sit down and iron out the details of joining the organization.”
Holy. Shit. The Astros. Want ME.
“That’s an amazing offer,” I reply, not sure if I’m dreaming. I mean, yeah, Coach said scouts were seriously interested, but to hear it out loud leaves me equal parts in shock and in awe.
It would seem that he’s heard many responses ike mine, or even worse, because he takes it in stride and claps me on the shoulder, “I’d like to take you all to dinner and discuss this further, if that’s alright,” he says to me, but looks toward my parents and Delilah for approval.
“I think that will work for us. How about you, son?” Dad asks, looking between me and Coach.
