Daddies Brat

Epilogue

Leslie

The spring semester was a flurry of classes, study sessions, and baseball games. I didn’t know how the season worked, but Riley explained that the games in the fall didn’t actually matter-they were just for practice, and to keep the players sharp.

Spring was the actual baseball season, and the stakes were a lot higher.

We were at one game in April, and I was shocked by the differences. At Riley’s fall games, there were maybe two or three dozen fans watching, and the concession stand didn’t have much to offer beyond soda and candy. The spring games, in contrast, took place on the Coastal California College baseball diamond-a field with enough bleachers and seats to hold at least two thousand fans.

Today was a sunny spring day, and those seats were mostly full. “Riley is the ace pitcher,” Harper explained while biting into a cheeseburger. “The crowd is always larger when he’s on the mound.”

“More fans, more pressure,” Avery muttered. He was tapping his foot nervously.

“I’m surprised you’re anxious,” I said, caressing the back of his neck where his brown hair ended. “Usually you don’t seem to care.”

Avery looked around like he was about to tell me a secret, then lowered his voice. “There are scouts here today.”

Harper jerked in his seat. “Scouts?”

“What are scouts?” I asked. “And why are we whispering?”

“The draft is three months away,” Avery explained. “Major League

Baseball teams send scouts to watch players they’re interested in drafting.

Look. Those two guys with clipboards.”

I gazed where he was pointing. Sure enough, there were two older gentlemen sitting in the front row behind home plate. One of them had a stopwatch hanging from a lanyard around his neck, and the other had what looked like a speed gun. When the opposing pitcher began his wind-up, the man clicked the stopwatch, then clicked it again when the ball smacked into the catcher’s mitt. He looked at the watch, then scribbled a note on his clipboard.

“Shit!” I said. “Does Riley know they’re here?” “Of course he does,” Avery said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because he’s the one who told me they would be here.”

The pitcher for the other team made another pitch, which was dribbled to the first baseman for an out. The opposing team jogged off the field, and the Three-C players jogged out to take the field for the start of the second inning. Riley was the only one who walked, stalking to the mound like a gladiator in the ring.

Riley threw a few warm-up pitches while the rest of the team tossed the ball around. The ump shouted something incomprehensible, and then the opposing batter stepped up to the plate.

“Now batting for Stanford,” the broadcaster boomed over the loudspeaker, “Kyle Martinez.”

The two scouts were leaning forward in their seats now, looking far more interested than when the other pitcher had thrown. Riley fired a fastball to the catcher, drawing a swing and a miss from the batter. The scout holding the speed gun twisted it to show his partner the result. They both nodded appreciatively.

“Just like that,” I whispered to myself. I was leaning forward too, now, squeezing my hands together like I was praying. “Keep it up, Riley.”

My roommate, my boyfriend, struck out the first two batters of the inning. But the third batter swung at a rainbow-shaped curve ball that was right over the middle of the plate. The bat made a CRACK like a gunshot, and then there was a SMACK similar to the sound the ball made when it hit the catcher’s mitt.

The crowd gasped, and Riley fell to his knees.

“What happened!” I demanded. “I blinked.”

“Fuuuuck,” Avery said. “Line drive hit him.”

“Where?”

“In the arm, I think,” Harper said, his face twisted with horror. “Oh, man. Not again.”

Before I knew what I was doing, I was squeezing along the aisle and running down toward the field, shoes banging on the metal bleachers. Harper and Avery called out to me from behind, but I ignored them. Riley was hurt. Riley was in trouble.

There was a chain-link fence separating the field from the crowd, but there was a gate on the side by the dugout. I ran to it, fully prepared to storm onto the field like a protective soccer mom, not caring that it would make Riley look like a child in front of all these fans-and the scouts.

But I stopped with my hand on the gate latch. Riley was standing up and shaking his arm, laughing about it with the trainer that was inspecting him. He stretched it out, testing whether it was okay. It was his left arm, I saw with relief. Not his pitching arm.

He shook the trainer off, then took the mound to make a few practice throws while everyone watched. After the second one, he nodded. The crowd gave a smattering of applause from the presumption that he was okay. That he wasn’t injured.

I was more worried about his confidence, however.

“Fucking today of all fucking days,” Coach Boothe growled in the dugout. I’d heard Riley talk about him enough that he was easily recognizable. “Right when it fucking matters, our fucking ace loses his fucking confidence.”

“Leslie!” I heard Harper calling from our seats. He was doing that thing where he shouted and whispered at the same time. “Leslie!”

I waved him off. I had no interest in going back to my seat until I knew Riley was okay. I stared at the man, willing him to look in my direction.

“Now batting for Stanford. Joshua Henderson.”

Riley circled the mound as the batter stepped up to the plate. His cheeks were flushed, and I knew his heart was probably racing. I continued staring at him, hoping that I could telepathically make him look at me.

And then, he did. My roommate, my boyfriend, turned and locked eyes with me like two magnets snapping together. His blue gaze was steady for a moment, and then he winked.

I love you, I sent toward him with my eyes. I love you, Riley.

I hadn’t said the words yet, but that was the moment I knew it.

Riley’s first pitch was awful-it soared five feet over the catcher’s head and hit the backstop. The runner on first jogged to second easily.

“Settle down, settle down,” Coach Boothe shouted. Then, under his breath, he muttered, “God fucking damnit. Today of all fucking days. Andrews! Tell Carter to start warming up in the pen.” Come on, Riley, I thought. You can do it.

Riley’s next pitch was a big rainbow curve ball like the one that was hit before. This time, the batter swung and missed. The next pitch was the same, except this time it landed in the dirt in front of the plate. But it fooled the batter, because he swung at it anyway.

The noise from the home crowd rose to a crescendo. One more strike. Riley took a deep breath, then let it out. He glanced back at the runner on second, then turned and made his pitch to the plate.

It was a fastball, too quick for me to see anything but a blur of white. It crossed the plate high, around the batter’s neck. But he swung at it anyway, the bat slicing through open air without making contact.

The crowd-me included-roared as the Three-C players jogged off the mound. All except Riley, who walked slowly. Pitchers were never in a hurry; they were the kings of the baseball diamond. Or, in Riley’s case, an ace. He never looked in my direction on the way back to the dugout, but he did smile.

I knew the smile was for me.

“You that girl?” a voice barked.

I flinched, and Coach Boothe was standing at the gate to the dugout. Staring at me.

“I… huh?” I replied.

“Are you that girl,” he said slower, “who’s with Riley?”

I realized how it looked, now. Riley had been hit by a line drive, and his girlfriend came running down to dote on him. He probably thought I was a distraction. He was probably right.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was just watching closer. I’ll go back to the bleachers…”

“Come here,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

I took a step closer to the fence. Riley had told me that his coach was a real hard-ass. The kind of man who chewed nails for fun and ridiculed anyone who wasn’t as tough as him. His entire presence exuded scorn, like the world didn’t live up to his standards.

I knew what was going to happen. He was going to tell me to go back to my seat. He was going to call me a distraction. He was going to yell at me, the way he yelled at his players. I steeled myself for what was to come.

“You’re the one who fixed his yips,” he said. A statement, not a question.

“Yips?” I asked.

“The yips,” he replied, as if I should know what he meant. “When a player suddenly forgets how to play. Riley had the yips last fall. Couldn’t throw a strike to save his life.”

“Oh,” I said. “I guess he was struggling, yes.” “How?” he barked.

“How?”

“How did you fix his yips? Riley told me you fixed it, but he refused to give me specifics. Fucking secretive boy.”

I pushed down a flare of anger. “I took him to the batting cage, made him stand on the plate, and shot baseballs at him.”

Coach Boothe blinked. “Is that so?”

I nodded, not sure what to expect. Was he going to tell me to butt out of his players’ affairs, and to leave the coaching to him?

“What’re you majoring in?” he asked.

“Psychology.”

He chuckled to himself. “Figures. It fucking figures. You ever want to go into sports psychology, you give my number a ring. There’s a market for keeping athletes’ heads from growing too fucking big. Good money in it, too.”

He turned and began shouting at one of his players to stop horsing around. I went back to my seat next to my other two boyfriends.

“What was that about?” Harper asked.

“Did he tear you a new asshole?” Avery asked. “Riley says he does that a lot.”

“To hear Riley talk about it, he’s got at least a dozen new assholes by this point,” Harper added.

“No,” I replied. My mind was racing. “He actually gave me something to think about.” *

Riley ended up pitching eight innings that day, giving up just one run. That was good enough for a win, giving him a dazzling 9 – 1 record on the season.

I told him I loved him that night. His face lit up like he had pitched a nohitter.

The team itself wasn’t spectacular, and they lost in the first round of their playoffs a few weeks later. But Riley shined bright, and wasn’t affected by the line drive that hit him.

Meanwhile, I was finding it surprisingly easy to juggle my studies and three boyfriends. Apparently, the majority of my struggles came from keeping my trio of relationships a secret from one another. When all of us were together, when we were comfortable just being, everything got easier. It turned out that life was simple when you found a way to prioritize what was important. And Riley, Avery, and Harper were becoming very important to me.

There was a lesson there, I knew. One I could apply to the rest of my life.

The four of us were extremely stressed about finals, though. Avery was more flustered than I had ever seen him before, and Harper was absolutely certain he was going to fail his Cosmic Anomalies class. Riley was quiet and reserved, which I had learned was his way of dealing with stress. Bottling it all up inside and pretending like it didn’t exist.

The two weeks leading up to finals, we didn’t party. We didn’t drink or indulge in edibles of the marijuana variety. We didn’t even have sex. We were too exhausted and stressed out for that.

But we were stressed together. In our house. We studied in groups on the couch, sometimes not speaking for hours at a time while we focused. We cuddled in bed, clinging to each other for the warmth and support of another body. That made everything easier to handle. Suffering together was better than suffering alone.

It was one of those nights, cuddling in bed with Avery, that I said the words to him. The lights were out, and I had been lying in bed for almost an hour. Thinking about life. About the men who were supporting me.

“I love you,” I breathed.

Once the words were out, I knew I meant them. I felt it deep within my soul. A rush of joy filled my body, and I turned to see Avery’s reaction.

He was snoring softly, mouth hanging open.

I gently poked him in the cheek. He didn’t rouse. I poked him a second time. Only when I finally flicked him in the nose did he gasp and flutter his eyes open.

“Huh?” he said, confused.

“I said I love you,” I replied, turning to face him in the darkness. “I love you, Avery.”

“Oh. That’s nice.”

And then he rolled over.

I held a grudge against him for three days until reminding him what I had said. He didn’t remember, because of course he didn’t-he was half asleep when I said it. But he did smile, take me in his arms, and say the words back to me.

“I love you, Leslie Grimes,” he said with as much confidence as Riley when he was on the mound. “I’ve never said that to anyone.”

I gave a start. “No one?”

“Nobody outside my family.” He chuckled to himself, as if surprised. “Huh. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Love is crazy,” I replied, and then he kissed me until I forgot all about being mad.

I was a nervous wreck that last week before my finals. I couldn’t have done it by myself. Sometimes, late at night when I was trying to fall asleep, I pictured myself going through all of this alone. Holed up in my room at Erin’s house, an island of a woman. I wouldn’t have survived, I knew.

But my worries were in vain, because I aced four of my finals-including my astronomy one, thanks to many a late night study session with Harper. There was one psychology class that I barely squeaked by in with a C, but I could accept that. I was officially done.

I was a college graduate.

The graduation ceremony was held outside on a cloudy May day, but the gloom couldn’t ruin my mood. The college had one big ceremony for all the graduating seniors on the campus lawn, and then we all broke off to go to our individual schools to receive our personalized diplomas. My parents had been at the first ceremony, although I couldn’t see or hear them in the huge crowd that was gathered, but at the smaller ceremony I heard their cheers. Even those from my butthead of a brother.

When the small ceremony was over, I wound my way through the crowd to reach my family. But on the way, I was intercepted by Harper.

“College of Science!” he said, grinning widely with his diploma in one hand.

“Way cooler than those other losers,” I replied.

My parents were pushing through the crowd to reach me, but Harper braced me by the arms and held me in place. “I’m really proud of you,

Leslie.”

“You’ve known me for less than a year,” I pointed out.

“Plenty of time to get to know someone,” he replied. “I really feel like I know you, Leslie. Every facet, good and bad.” “Bad?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You leave food out on the counter!” he replied. “Which is what led to a certain pot brownie incident.” He waved a hand. “We’re getting off topic.

The point I was trying to make is that I’ve known you long enough to be proud of you. Of everything you are. It’s why I love you.”

The words weren’t foreign to me at this point. Riley and Avery had said that to me plenty of times. But this was Harper’s first chance dropping the L-bomb, and I didn’t realize what was happening at first.

“Oh. Oh.”

“You don’t have to say it back,” he quickly added. “I said it because I feel

-”

I threw myself into his arms. “Of course I love you, you space nerd idiot! I’ve loved you since March!”

He blinked behind his glasses. “March?”

“That night we watched Austin Powers together. You made a joke that was so funny I almost choked on my beer. I knew it then.” “Why didn’t you say it then?” he asked.

“Why do you think? Because I didn’t want to scare you off!”

“Whatever is the opposite of scared, consider me that,” he replied, grinning widely. “I’m never going to be scared again.”

We dropped our diplomas onto the ground as we kissed, but neither of us cared.

My family met up with me, and then we collected Avery and Riley from their private ceremonies. Dad announced that he was taking everyone out to dinner to celebrate, and that he had a reservation at a nice restaurant a few blocks from campus.

We changed out of our robes, then drove to the address he sent us. But as Riley pulled into the parking lot, a sense of dread began to fill me.

“Oh no,” I said to Harper as we got out and began walking to the door. “I didn’t realize we would be eating here.”

“Why?” Harper asked, confused. “What’s wrong with this steakhouse?”

I almost laughed in his face. Of course he wouldn’t remember the location for one of the most embarrassing-and hilarious-nights of my life.

I tensed as we walked inside, but there was a different manager working tonight. I breathed a sigh of relief as we were escorted to a long table in the middle of the restaurant. It might have been the same one Harper had crashed when he was too high. Or it might have been my imagination.

But the server who waited on us was definitely the same one from that fateful night. He frowned at me and Harper as if trying to figure out where he knew us from.

“Is something wrong, son?” my dad asked him.

“I just had the strangest sense of deja-vu.” He shook himself off. “Our specials tonight include a creamy tomato soup…”

We ate steak, and drank an expensive bottle of wine that Mom ordered, and laughed as we discussed how our final year of college had gone. Eventually, the topic turned to what each of us was going to do next.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“I got a job as a Systems Administrator for Coke,” Erin exclaimed.

I gasped. “You heard back?”

“Got the email during the ceremony. I’m moving to Atlanta!”

As sad as that made me, I was excited for my best friend. And based on her reaction, she was excited, too.

“You’re waiting to see what happens in the draft this summer, right?” Dad asked.

Riley nodded. “I’m hoping to get drafted by the sixth round, but my coach says I could go as high as third.”

“Fingers crossed the Diamondbacks get you,” Dad replied. “But we’ll be proud as long as it’s not the Dodgers.”

I coughed into my napkin. “Dad.”

“Okay, fine. We’ll be proud even if you do get drafted by those cocky Los Angeles bastards.”

“What did you major in?” Mom asked him.

“Environmental Science. I would love to get a job working in conservation. Or maybe as a ranger for one of our National Parks. But I would need a master’s degree for that.” He shrugged. “Although, if I get a huge signing bonus during the draft, it would be tough to turn that down.” “There are more important things than money, son,” Dad said.

Riley raised his wine glass. “Cheers to that.”

“I’ve got a job lined up in corporate accounting,” Avery explained when it was his turn. “It’s a recession-proof job. Companies need accountants even when the economy is bad.”

“Maybe even especially when the economy sucks,” my brother added. “I work in finance for Fannie Mae.”

“No kidding?” Avery replied. “Let me pick your brain about the Fed’s current interest rates…”

“What about you, Harper?” my mom asked. “You studied space, is that right?”

“Astronomy, that’s right,” Harper replied.

“And what do you want to do for a living?”

Harper rested his hand on the back of my chair. “Originally, I wanted to get a job at NASA, working with their deep field telescopes. But I don’t think I want to do that anymore.”

I blinked at him. “You don’t?”

“I’ve given it a lot of thought lately,” he continued. “I love science, and space, and the wonders of the universe. But I don’t think I just want to study it. I want to help pass that knowledge along to the next generation. So I’ve decided to go back to get my master’s degree in education. That way I can get a job at the planetarium teaching kids about space.” “That’s wonderful!” I said. “What made you change your mind?” “You did,” he replied, as if it was obvious.

“Me?”

“Helping you study astronomy ignited something inside me, Leslie. It made me realize how fulfilling it is passing on knowledge. Helping other people understand-and appreciate-the universe the way I do. I’ve spent all semester thinking about it, and I’m certain now.” He grinned. “So, I suppose I should thank you.”

“Where are you getting your graduate degree?” Dad asked.

I tensed. I hadn’t thought about that.

“I’m staying put,” he replied. “Coastal California College has a solid program here. Not as good as some of the other schools I looked at, but I

have plenty of reasons to stay put.”

“Such as?” Riley asked with a sly smile.

“I have a standing job at the planetarium,” he explained. “Even on a bad day, I get to talk about Jupiter’s rings, or Titan’s methane oceans.”

My mom chuckled. “I don’t want to correct the astronomer, but Saturn is the planet with rings, not Jupiter.”

“Jupiter has rings too!” I chimed in. “That was a trick question I failed on one of my exams. Which led me to asking for help from Harper in the first place.”

“I seem to recall you refusing all help, until I practically forced you to let me help you study,” Harper replied.

“Details, details.”

“What a group of fine young men and women,” my mom beamed. “Such bright futures!”

“Leslie didn’t tell us what she wants to do,” my brother pointed out.

“Leslie’s figuring that out still,” Dad replied. “For now, she knows she’s getting her graduate degree in Psychology.”

I cleared my throat. “Actually, I think I’ve decided what I want to do.”

My dad almost dropped his glass of wine. “You’ve chosen a focus?”

“There’s no need to rush into anything,” Riley said. “If you need more time…”

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about it,” I replied. “In fact, I’ve done nothing but think about it since a baseball game in April. The game where you got hit by a line drive in the arm.”

Riley’s eyes widened. “I don’t understand.”

“You should,” I said with a grin. “You’re the one that helped me decide. You see…”

I spent the next few minutes explaining to my family how Riley had been hit by a line drive in the head over a year ago, and it rattled his confidence. I told them how he had the yips, as his coach described it, and was struggling so badly he couldn’t hit water if he fell out of a boat.

“The timing was perfect, because I had just learned about a therapy subject called active trauma engagement,” I explained. “When a patient is struggling with a mental block, it can be helpful to force them to face their fear. It doesn’t always work. If someone is arachnophobic, then dumping a bucket of spiders on them won’t work.” Harper shivered next to me.

“But in Riley’s case, I came up with a method of treatment that worked quite well. I took him to the batting cage and made him stand at the plate. Then I fed baseballs into the pitching machine.”

“You hit him with baseballs?” my brother asked, dumbfounded.

“I started at a slower speed,” I said defensively. “Then worked up to a speed similar to the exit velocity of a baseball. The point was to show Riley that even though getting hit with a baseball hurt, it wasn’t that bad. It was more mental than physical. Once he realized that, he stopped being afraid.”

“I never stopped being afraid,” Riley clarified. “But the fear became manageable.” He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “It changed everything. I wouldn’t have been able to pitch so well this season without it.”

“I don’t understand,” Mom blurted out. “You’re going to do what? Become a baseball coach?”

“I’m going to specialize in sports psychology,” I explained. “Athletes get paid millions of dollars per year. Sometimes tens of millions. Sports franchises have entire teams of trainers dedicated to making sure their players are in top physical form. And now, they’re starting to hire psychologists to make sure they’re in peak mental form, too.” “Like season two of Ted Lasso!” Avery said.

“Um, sure?” I replied. “I haven’t seen it.”

“WHAT!” Avery said, slamming his palm down on the table and rattling the silverware. “We need to binge it. I would totally watch it again with you. It’s especially applicable now that you’ve told us you…”

He trailed off. “I think I’m getting off topic.”

“You think?” Harper said. Avery rolled his eyes.

“Coach Boothe already hired me to work with his players during the summer league,” I said excitedly. “I’ve been waiting to tell you all when we were together. I start on Monday!”

I paused as my family and lovers showered me with excitement and praise. It was the exact reaction I needed from the people closest to me. Erin got up from her seat, came around the table, and wrapped me in a big hug. My brother was grinning, and for once didn’t have anything snarky to say.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetie,” Dad said.

“College teams are just the start,” I said. “Eventually, I might be able to get a job with one of the four major sports leagues. Baseball has a huge need for this, but so does hockey and basketball. Eventually I might work for the NFL.”

Dad wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I would, uh, be even more proud of you if you worked your way up to the professional leagues.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Although…”

“Tom,” my mom hissed. “Don’t.”

“I’m just saying. If Leslie has a choice, maybe she could find her way to work for the Arizona Cardinals.”

“Tom!”

“I wouldn’t disown you for working for the Chargers or Broncos,” Dad continued. “But I would be more proud if you came home and worked for a respectable team.”

I laughed to myself while my parents quietly argued.

When we got home, I said my goodbyes to my family-they were staying in a hotel until the morning, when they would drive back to Flagstaff. Erin gave me a long hug and a kiss on the cheek, and told me that we would need to spend a lot of time together before she moved to Atlanta next month. We both had tears in our eyes as she got in her car and drove away.

Then it was just me and my three boyfriends. Riley folded me into his arms and led me inside, while Harper held my hand.

“Okay,” Avery announced. “It’s time.”

“Time to go to bed,” Harper replied. “I’m exhausted.”

“No sir. You made a promise to me. You said you would finally smoke weed with me after you graduated.”

“After I graduated was the only promise I made. I never specified when. I have between now and the end of time to make good on that promise.”

Avery looked like a toddler who had found out Christmas was canceled.

“I’ll get high with you,” Riley announced. “The season is over, which means no more drug testing. At least, until I’m drafted.” “Me too!” I said.

We all turned toward Harper. He let out a long sigh.

“I have been wondering what it’s like,” he said.

“You’ve experienced it already!” I said. “At the exact same steakhouse where we ate tonight! It was a whole big thing. We got Taco Bell and everything.”

“And then demanded that I make you cake,” Avery added.

“Oh, cake!” I said. “We should order cake!”

Riley hopped in the car and drove to the grocery store to get a cake. A birthday cake, we realized when he got home. “What?” he asked while cutting into it. “We haven’t celebrated your birthday in four months.”

“My birthday is in November!”

“And your half-birthday is in two weeks,” Avery said. “Close enough.” “Close enough!” Harper shouted with a silly grin on his face.

“You guys already started without me, didn’t you?” Riley asked.

“I only had a single puff of the marijuanas,” Harper said, blinking eyes that were as red as a sunset.

“And a pot brownie,” I pointed out.

“That too.” Harper gasped. “Can we watch a space documentary?”

“Only if you refrain from adding your own commentary,” Riley replied.

“No promises.”

“Aww,” I said. “I love his nerdy commentary.”

The four of us squeezed into the couch together and dug into the chocolate birthday cake while watching a documentary. As the narrator began describing black holes, I thought about the first time I had stepped into this house. I had been expecting three women to be my roommates, not the three of them. I had almost turned and ran when I realized.

I’m glad I didn’t do that, I thought while leaning into Riley, then Avery. I reached over and took Harper’s hand in mine. I’m so glad I didn’t.

“What’re you thinking about?” Avery asked.

“About how I’m definitely a three marshmallow kind of girl.”

Avery furrowed his brow. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing.” I shared a private smile with Riley. “I was also thinking that I love you.”

“Funny,” Riley said while biting into a pot brownie. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“You guys are never going to believe this,” Harper said, deadly serious. “But I, also, was thinking about how much I love Leslie.”

The four of us devolved into a fit of giggles on the couch, happier than we ever thought four people could be.