Inhaling through my nose, I back away in the water because we’re far too close and she’s seeing far too much.
“I know what it’s like to notice your parents’ absence,” I tell her. “The day I was drafted, Isaiah was the only one in the crowd for me, and it was the same thing when it was his turn. I was also the only one there for him when he got his driver’s license or when he had his heart broken for the first time. The last thing I’ll ever be is an absentee dad. I won’t miss the important stuff, and even more, I don’t want to miss the everyday, insignificant moments. I want them all.”
Silence falls over us as Miller kicks in the water, her foot brushing my leg.
Her typically confident demeanor turns soft. “Where were your parents?”
“My mom died.”
“So did mine.”
My eyes jerk to hers as she sits on the ledge.
“Cancer,” she says.
“Car accident.”
“And your dad?”
All right, that’s too much for tonight. “Long story.”
She seems to understand my need to change the subject. “You need to have a little fun in your life.”
A smile ticks up at the memories. “Trust me, my twenties were plenty fun. Once Isaiah was settled in the league, I lived it up. I was stupid and reckless, and I don’t need to go back to that now that I have a son to raise.”
“You don’t need to go back, but you could find a balance between then and now. Now, you’re all grumpy”—she lowers her voice, mimicking me—“ ‘I equally hate playing baseball and people who watch my kid.’ ”
“I don’t hate baseball. I love it, actually. I just hate that it takes me away from Max.”
“And the people who watch your kid?”
My mouth twitches. “To be determined.”
She laughs, smacking me in the chest with the back of her hand, but I catch it before she can pull away. “How old were you when your mom died?”
The tone in the air shifts again.
“Five.”
“Geez,” I exhale. “I didn’t realize Monty was so young when he lost his wife.”
“Oh, they were never married. Actually, they had only been seeing each other for about a year when my mom died.” Miller slips off the ledge, into the water between my body and the side of the pool. “He’s not my biological dad.”
What?
She swims away from me, but like she said, she’s not a great swimmer, so she doesn’t get far. She’s been chasing me in the pool all night, but for once, I’m the one determined to catch her.
“Keep talking,” I urge as she crests the water.
“He adopted me.” She wipes the water droplets from her face. “The day before she died, my mom asked him to adopt me. It was a ridiculous thing to ask of him. He was twenty-five years old, playing professional baseball. I was simply his girlfriend’s kid, but he did it anyway. My mom was a single mom, raised me on her own up until then. My biological father was a one-night thing. Monty adopted me, we changed my last name to his because she wanted us to. He left the league and took a college coaching job to take care of me because I didn’t have anyone else. It’s the most selfless thing anyone has ever done for me, and I feel terrible about it.”
I’m frozen in place, standing in the shallow end of the pool, stunned by the vulnerability Miller has never worn around me. She uses humor to dissipate tense situations, but she’s not right now because Monty deserves a moment of recognition. She wants me to understand how good he is. How important he is to her.
I fucking love that guy.
“He’s worried you’ll retire the same way he did,” she continues.
It’s something I think about daily. It would take away a lot of the stress I carry. Sure, I’d be giving up a career I love, but it’d be to do a job I love even more.
“Don’t,” she whispers. “Take it from the child of someone who gave up exactly what you’re thinking of giving up. Max will live with that guilt for the rest of his life.”
This is why she came back last week. This must be what Monty told her to give me another chance.
“Miller, I’m exhausted. All the fucking time.”
“Let me help you. Let me help you find the balance.”
She’s serious about this, about the guilt she carries. But why? I know Monty. I know the kind of man he is. He’d give up everything for his kid, the same way I would. How does she not get that? There’s a different kind of love that comes into your life when you have a child. Monty didn’t sacrifice his career, he simply changed directions because of how much he loved that little girl. So much so that he carries her softball photo to every away game so he can place it on his desk to see her.
Her eyes bounce between mine, pleading, but before I can answer, the blinding light from a flashlight roams over her face.
“Hey!” a security guard yells. “The pool is closed!”
Turning, I use my body to cover Miller’s, my back to her, partly to get the light off her face, but mostly because I feel real possessive seeing her in this little green bathing suit and I have no plans to share the view.
She falls into a fit of laughter behind me.
“Sorry about that!” I hold my hands up, out of the water. “We’ll go.”
Miller continues to giggle.
“I’m holding you responsible for this one, Montgomery. Here I am, spending one night with you and already getting in trouble.”
“Trust me,” she chuckles. “I have plans to get you in a whole lot more trouble than that.”
That’s exactly what I’m worried about.
Chapter 12
Kai
We’ve been on the road, making our rounds to play the Texas teams. We haven’t had a day off since we left Chicago, and I haven’t had a chance to speak to Monty alone. The boys are rowdy as they make their way down the tunnel, headed to the field, but as the team gets ready for warmups, I sneakily slip into the visiting coach’s office.
“Hey, Ace,” Monty says, barely looking up at me as he stands over his desk, rifling through scouting reports. “What can I help you with?”
Quietly closing the door behind me, I round his desk, and without saying a word, I pull him into a hug.
He stills for a moment with his hands full of papers, but I don’t let go. Eventually, he drops them on his desk and returns the embrace. “You okay?”
Yes. No. How do I tell him how impressed yet annoyed I am at the same time? How do I voice how grateful I am for what he did for Miller without sounding attached as fuck to his daughter?
Pulling away, I push him in the chest. “Fuck you.”
Monty laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m getting some real mixed signals here, man.”
“You talked me out of retiring when you did the exact same thing for the same fucking reason.”
Monty’s brown eyes soften, his chest moving in an exhale. “She told you.”
“Yes, she told me, and you should’ve too.”
“Take a seat.”
Annoyed, I do as he says, sliding into the chair on the other side of the desk.
Monty settles back in his seat, steepling his fingers under his chin. “I didn’t tell you because you and I are not the same.”
“We are exactly the same in that regard, Monty. You retired to take care of your kid. Why can’t I?”
“Because I wasn’t you, Ace. I didn’t have your level of talent. I wasn’t your age. I didn’t have the kind of help you have. Why do you think I’ve been so adamant about the organization making this work for you? I know how hard it is. Fuck, Kai, I know what you’re going through, but you’re not alone in this. I was.”
Shit.
“I didn’t tell you because you’re looking for a reason to retire,” he continues. “I wasn’t going to give you one. If you didn’t love playing anymore, I’d help you pack your bags right now, but I see it. The look you have on the nights you’re pitching. How much you love being with Isaiah again. You still love the game.”
“You do too. Clearly. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have coached for the past twenty years. So why did you leave if you loved it so much?”