The Change Up (25 page)

The sad thing was, it
was
enough. Before Sam had stood outside Rachel's office with the walls closing in on him, he couldn't have imagined a better way to spend the next five years than by playing baseball for the Arlington Aces—expect maybe if the next five years included Rachel, too. That thought grabbed hold of his heart even as it disgusted him.

“I don't know what to do,” Sam said, staring at his untouched beer.

“Well, normally I would pick up the tab and send an indecisive guy on his way with my blessing, but we go way back, don't we?” Benny said. “And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to watching you play another year. But nobody can guarantee us anything more than one season. You could get hurt. I could move on. The team could end up in Poughkeepsie. That's the nature of the beast. You either take the risk and go along for the ride, or you stay safe at home and wonder what might have been. Your choice, Sam. Just let us know what you decide by the start of practice on Monday.”

Sam left the bar shortly after that, deciding to sleep on the decision. Instead, he tossed and turned. He looked and felt like hell by the time he showed up for work Saturday morning.

His father was already in the equipment barn, tinkering with a gas-powered edger. He took one look at Sam and said, “Those bums cut you? Are you fucking kidding me? I'll never step foot inside that stadium.”

“I made the team, Dad.”

“Oh. Well, you look like hell, and you're late. Plus, you never called to give me the verdict last night, so it was an honest mistake. But if you made it, why the long face?”

“Because I'm thinking about quitting.”

Paul set his needle-nose pliers on the top of the toolbox and gave his son a good hard look. “Why?”

“It's a long story.”

“I've got time.” Paul leaned the edger against the workbench and grabbed an old white T-shirt out of his back pocket to wipe off his hands. “You want to talk here or in the house?”

Sam looked over his shoulder, down the long and winding gravel driveway, across the expanse of grass. Nobody was around. Everyone else was out working, including his crew, who were already at the stadium, getting the field ready for Monday's practice. “Here is fine.”

“What happened?”

Rachel Reed happened, but he didn't want to spend another minute of his life thinking about her and how she'd completely screwed him. It was bad enough he had to wash his sheets twice and endure the stench of way too much bleach in a wayward attempt at obliterating her memory.

“I found out the team is being sold,” Sam said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, trying to pull off healthy indifference. “There's a possibility it won't stay in Arlington.”

“And you're worried about the business.” His father sighed. “I never wanted it to be a noose around your neck. Luke and I will manage just fine.”

“No. That's not it.” Not completely. “I want to be here. I want to help. I'm not going to get dragged into moving around again. Being away from home. A two-week road trip is bad enough, you know? But at least with the team based in Arlington I know I'm always coming back here.”

“But you love baseball,” Paul said.

Sam couldn't deny it anymore even if he wanted to. “I do, and I can play sandlot.”

“Not much of a challenge.”

“Maybe not, but at least I'll still be playing. And I'll be home.” That was the most important part.

Paul's left eyebrow twitched.

Great,
Sam thought,
here comes the quivering upper lip.
Ever since he'd been a boy, his father had given telltale signs of his impending emotional breaks. Sometimes anger. Sometimes tears. Paul Sutter wasn't the kind of man who held things in.

Right on cue, Paul's lip quivered. “Your mother used to say home is where the heart is.”

Sam wasn't sure he'd ever heard her say that, but the mention of her had him steeling himself against an onslaught of emotion, too.

“
Your
heart is wherever baseball is, son,” Paul said.

Sam balked. “That's not true. I've been without baseball for ten years, and I've done just fine.”

“Fine isn't living. It's getting by. You deserve better than that.”

Sam wasn't so sure. Maybe this was his penance for turning his back on his mother when she'd needed him most. “I should've come home a long time ago,” he said, hating the way his voice broke but hopeless to stop it.

The next thing he knew, he was wrapped in his father's strong arms and surrounded by the scent of lawn-mower grease and freshly washed flannel. Childhood memories roared back at him. Travel games he'd blown. Grandparents he'd lost. Honor rolls he'd made. Records he'd broken. The same hug was exchanged. Comfort or congratulations. Except after his mother had died. There'd been anger, distance, and total devastation on Sam's part, and he'd pushed his father's open arms away, too guilt-ridden to accept comfort. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed this hug until now.

Holding on to his father, Sam let it all go. With each breath, he softened his muscles, settled his mind, and finally forgave himself.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I love you, son.”

The magnitude of the moment was chased away by the sound of tires crunching along the gravel driveway as Luke's truck barreled toward them.

Sam didn't want to rehash what had just happened with his brother, so he said a quick goodbye to his father and then headed to his truck. But he wasn't fast enough.

“Hey!” Luke said, hopping out of his vehicle and heading straight for him. “Did you make the team?”

“I did.”

“Congratulations?”

“Don't hurt yourself with all that enthusiasm.”

“No, man. I'm happy for you. I really am.” Luke raised his brow in suspicion. “I'm just wondering why you don't look happy.”

“I am happy.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “What did she do?”

“Nothing, man,” Sam snapped. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to protect Rachel after everything she'd done.

“Sorry. That wasn't cool. You're right. You're all grown up. Rachel is your business now. I knew her a long time ago. You know her better than I ever did.”

Yep, that's what Sam had thought, too.
Sucker.
He nodded and said, “Thanks, man. See you later.” And then he closed his door, knowing he'd protected her yet again. Wondering if maybe he'd been protecting himself, too.

It didn't matter. She was gone. Out of his life. And he had a choice to make.

As he backed up and pulled around, pointing his truck toward the main road, he realized the decision had been made in the midst of that hug.

His heart was with baseball. At least half of it was.

Hopefully, that would be enough.

“Richard sent these over,” Liv said, having walked into Rachel's Philadelphia office with a smile on her face. “They're the originals of the copies he emailed you last week when you were in Arlington. He wanted me to tell you he outdid himself this time. Whatever that means.”

“Thank you,” Rachel said, distracted by a text from Macy that detailed all the weekend dates Helen Anne had approved for a trip to Pittsburgh to see the Pirates play. “You can leave them on my desk.”

Liv set the fat stack of property disclosures on the corner and asked, “Are you feeling okay? No cracks about Richard today?”

Rachel opened her calendar and nodded. “I'm fine.”

“Really? I don't believe you. What's wrong? You haven't even mentioned his hair.”

Richard had changed his hair? Rachel looked up and shrugged. “I didn't notice anything.”

“He got highlights!”

“Good for him.”

“They look ridiculous.”

Well, Richard was ridiculous, but he knew this business inside and out, and he'd done one hell of a job keeping things together in her absence. Rachel's phone vibrated, and she looked down to find another text from Macy:

It was followed by six thumbs-up emojis and one with tears coming out of the eyes. Rachel could never figure out if that meant happy or sad. She was going with happy this time.

“Seriously. What is going on with you?” Liv asked.

“Nothing.” Rachel shook her head clear and put her phone facedown on her desk. “That was Macy. She's going to the Aces' home opener.”

Liv tilted her head. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Is your father going?”

“As long as he's feeling up to it. I talked to Helen Anne and my mother. They've agreed to take him.”

“If you want to go, I'll go with you.”

“I don't.” But she did. She'd been trolling the site for the last week, waiting for the roster to be posted, and sure enough, Sam Sutter's name was listed. Just to make sure it wasn't a mistake, she'd called Benny Bryant with some concocted excuse and asked him to send the final roster to her.

Thank God Sam was on there. At least she hadn't screwed up everything.

Liv sat, and Rachel shooed her away with one hand. “I don't have time for a girly chat.”

“Who said anything about a girly chat?”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

Liv chuckled. “Real quick. Have you talked to Sam?”

“No. Now get back to work.”

“Aren't you going to tell him about the trees?”

Rachel had tried once already. In his truck. She'd considered calling him and trying again after she'd finalized the details with the community college, but maybe it was better to leave things alone. “He'll figure it out soon enough.”

“Are the interested buyers pissed?” Liv asked in a lowered voice, as if Mike and his oddball clients could overhear her.

“Yes. But they're more upset we haven't seen a major spike in season ticket sales. Mike left me a message I still haven't returned. He wants to renegotiate the terms.”

“What if they back out?”

Rachel had thought about that a lot this week. Having substantial physical distance from her father, who no longer called daily for a breakdown of her accomplishments, gave her some much-needed perspective. “If they back out, they back out. I can't fake ticket sales.”

“True.” Liv waited a beat before she stood and said, “I guess I'll get back to work now.” But she hesitated. “I was sort of hoping you would go to the opening game, because I want to.”

Rachel smiled. “Go. Nothing is stopping you.”

“Well, you pretty much got that team up and running, but you're not going, which makes me wonder what's stopping you.”

Rachel eyeballed the printed roster she kept on her desk and scanned the names until she stopped on Sam. “It's Sam's day,” she said. “I don't want to ruin it for him.”

“You wouldn't.”

“He hates me. He has every right to hate me.”

“He said he couldn't believe he fell for you. Right?”

“In a forlorn sort of way,” Rachel reminded Liv.

“Because he was upset in that moment. But have you thought about exactly what he meant?”

“God, no,” Rachel said. Remembering the misery on his face, the misery she'd put there, was not something she wanted to relive.

“Well, usually when people say they fell, they mean they fell in love.”

Rachel choked out a laugh. “That's not what Sam meant. You can fall for someone without falling in love. It's just an expression.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. We weren't together long enough for that.”

“I just read a HuffPost article that said it doesn't take long for some people to fall in love, especially at your age,” Liv said with a glint of humor in her eyes.

“Well, it takes longer than ten weeks, even for a senior citizen like me.”

“So, you don't love him?”

“I”—her throat tightened up—“wouldn't know love if it hit me between the eyes,” she said flippantly. “Too subjective.”

Liv seemed to think about that, and just when Rachel thought she'd brought this crazy conversation to a successful end, Liv asked, “What's this?” She walked her fingers across Rachel's desk to where the roster laid.

“Nothing,” Rachel said, sliding other papers over it. “Just the list of players. For professional purposes.”

Liv rolled her eyes. “How often do you think about him during the day?”

Too often.
“You should go before I start questioning why I ever hired you.”

Liv backed away from the desk with a smile. “You should flip that piece of paper over and start keeping track with hash marks. Every time you think of him”—she sliced her hand through the air—“mark, mark, mark. I bet you fill up that page by the end of the day.”

“Goodbye, Liv. Tell Richard I said thank you.”

Liv was almost out the door when she added, “If you fill up the page, it's safe to say you love him.”

Rachel picked up her empty foam coffee cup and pretended she was going to throw it.

The door closed with a definitive click, and Rachel sat back to enjoy the peace and quiet. Only, the air in the room felt unsettled, and her brain whirred like a radio tuned to white noise. A single word broke through every now and then.
Contracts. Closings. Tickets. Trees.

Love.

She'd pulled back from every relationship that threatened to go too far. She never let herself love anyone aside from her family members, and even that love was twisted. That love had put her in this predicament. Making promises she was starting to wonder if she could keep. On the day not so long ago when her father had come to her and explained his desire to give her special power of attorney because of the disease, she'd felt crushed by the expectations, yet honored, determined to do him proud. It had always been that way. Prove to him he didn't need that son. Maybe forty years of living like that had finally taken its toll.