Over the Fence: Lyssa Layne's Baseball Romances (76 page)

CHAPTER 11

We roll up to the hospital and the car hasn’t even stopped when Dickey flings open his door, jumping out while the car is still moving. I shake my head, not even trying to stop him because I know nothing will come between him and his wife that he adores. The glass doors slide open as Dickey runs through them and he’s greeted by his sons. Both of the boys are almost catching up to their dad in height. My heart clenches as I watch the three of them embrace in a quick, yet warm hug before Dickey races down the hallway to find their mother. I sigh and search for a place to park the car. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I answer the incoming call from Tate James.

“What’s up, brother?” I say into my phone as I shift the car into park.

“Hey, Benny. We saw the commotion in the bullpen on TV and wanted to make sure everything was alright.” It’s difficult to hear him over the noise of his own locker room. Being on the west coast, their game is just about to get started.

I open my car door and stroll inside. “Yeah, Tate, all is well. Dickey got the call that Laurel is in labor. We just got to the hospital.”

Tate’s voice is muffled as I hear him relay the message to someone. A few seconds later, a female voice comes through the phone. “Martinez? It’s Colie. Everything’s okay, right? No complications?” It’s Grant’s wife, Colie Adamson. Colie is also Dickey’s ex-girlfriend that he tried to exploit in an effort to cover his ass from his illegal gambling. It took a few years but the three of them are all on good terms today.

“As far as I know, all is well, Cole. I’ll keep you all updated.”

“What about the boys?” Colie yells into the phone as I’m about to hit ‘end.’

“I got ‘em,” I say with a laugh and hang up.

Walking into the hospital, I find Grey pacing the length of the waiting room while Sam sits on the couch, holding his knees to his chest. I search for the right words to say, something to break the silence, lighten the mood, but Grey beats me to it. He takes a seat beside his brother and puts his arm around his shoulders.

“It’s okay, Sam. Dad is here now, he’ll take care of Mom. Everything will be alright.”

Sam nods, still a little uncertain. The poor kid’s already lost his real mom and now his adoptive mom is here in the hospital. It doesn’t matter that it’s for a good reason, hospitals are still scary in the eyes of kids.

I take a spot on other side of Sam and pat his leg. “You guys ready to be big brothers?”

Both of the boys nod excitedly, taking me by a bit of surprise.

“Yeah, Dad’s told us all about how tiny the babies are going to be and how him and Mom will need our help,” Sam says, a smile coming to his face.

“Plus, Mom and Dad are really excited and happy for the girls to get here. And we’ve never had little sisters before so it should be cool,” Grey adds.

I smile. “Great attitude, boys. You’ll make awesome big brothers.”

I move to another chair and settle in for the wait as Grey and Sam do the same. I try to picture what Marcos’ reactions would’ve been like if Isabel and I had had another baby. I wonder why we never did. I mean, we were young enough when Marcos was born that we could’ve had a whole litter of children. I sigh and scratch my chin because I know exactly why we didn’t have more kids. It upset Isabel and her mother that we’d had Marcos out of wedlock. Both women assumed we’d get married and there were many times throughout the past decade or so that I’d planned on asking but I never did. There’s a slew of reasons why I never did, some Isa knows, others I haven’t even admitted to myself.

I glance over at the Richards’ boys and wonder if Marcos would have as much faith in me as these boys have in their father. Shaking my head, I chuckle to myself. Their father is Jace Richards, former MLB playboy that was once banned from ever playing in the league again, and now, here he is, the picture perfect father. I, on the other hand, am the biggest father failure who has done nothing but probably pass on the trait to my own son who is about to be a father himself.

“Grey!”

A teenage girl that almost looks like a young Laurel with the blonde hair and blue eyes runs across the waiting room, throwing her arms around Grey who returns the embrace. It’s an awkward few seconds as the teenagers try to figure out when to end the hug. Eventually, the two take a seat on the couch, the girl tenderly holding Grey’s hand. I smile as I recall the first time Marcos brought Janisa home. My smile is quickly replaced as the image of the last time I saw them together comes to mind. Surely Dickey’s done a better job telling his boys about the practices of safe sex than I have. Feeling a bit lost, I text Isabel to tell her what’s going on but I don’t get an immediate response.

I close my eyes, trying to remember happier times as I drift off to sleep. My dreams grant me the escape that I’m looking for until someone begins to shake me as they yell my name on repeat. I open my eyes and see Dickey staring down at me with a grin the size of Texas on his face.

“They’re here, Benny. My girls are here!”

I smile, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. “Congrats, brother!”

We shake hands and Dickey pulls me up, anxious for me to meet the newest members of the Richards’ family. I follow him into Laurel’s room and tears jump to my eyes. Grey is sitting in the bed beside his mother, holding one of the babies. Laurel holds the other baby girl while Sam stands beside her. The three of them have matching smiles to Dickey’s. It’s like a scene out of a movie how picture perfect it is, despite the fact that only a few of them are truly blood related. Jace stands behind Sam, urging him to hold his sister, but Sam shakes his head, too intimidated by the small child. Jace takes the baby from Laurel so she can wrap her arm around Sam who seems happy to be in his mother’s embrace.

I whip out my phone and capture the moment for them. I notice I have a text from Isabel that simply wishes the Richards’ family the best but mentions nothing of the groveling messages I’ve sent her. Sighing, I slip my phone in my pocket and hold up my hands.

“Laurel, Dickey, your family is beautiful.” I blow them kisses from across the room. “I’d love to stay but I have my own family to get home to.”

With a quick wave, I turn and exit the room. When I get to the parking lot, I take off in a sprint. My moment to save what I have with Isabel is slipping away faster than I can catch it.

CHAPTER 12

Huffing and puffing because I’ve run up the hot box of a staircase to my apartment, I fling open the door, out of breath and anxious to see my Isabel. I call out her name, taking only the few seconds needed to search the apartment for her but I don’t find her. Dropping to the couch, I set the bouquet of flowers on the coffee table and lean forward to catch my breath.

“Papa?”

I look up and see Marcos rubbing his eyes as he emerges from his bedroom.

“Where is your mother?”

Marcos’ shoulders rise and fall as he mutters, “I don’t know” before he disappears into the kitchen. He opens the fridge door, taking his time to decide what he wants to eat.

From the doorway, I scoff and nod in his direction. “You’re wasting electricity. Make your decision and close the door.”

My son looks at me sideways, trying not to let me see him roll his eyes but he fails. “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters as he grabs a soda and closes the door.

I take a deep breath. “Marcos, we need to talk. Man to man.”

The pop of his soda tab breaks the silence of the room and he stands there, shirtless in a pair of boxers without a care in the world. I sigh and motion to the table for us both to sit down. He guzzles down half the can then reluctantly takes a seat across from me.

“Marcos, let me start off by saying I’m sorry.”

His eyes go wide and I know I have his attention.

“I have failed you. I have failed your mother. I should’ve been around more, to teach you about women and life and baseball, but I wasn’t. I put those responsibilities on your mother and that wasn’t fair.”

Marcos laughs nervously. “Yeah, Mama doesn’t know the difference between a slider and a screwball.”

I smile, appreciating that he got my sense of humor. “You’re right, she doesn’t, but she tries. And no matter what you do, she will always support and love you, Marcos. And I will, too, if you’ll let me.”

He flips the tab on his can back and forth, not looking at me.

“You’re going to be a papa and I don’t want you to fail your child like I’ve done you.”

Marcos looks up quickly, obviously surprised that I know his news. “Are you mad?”

I reach out and take his hand, patting it once. “Only at myself. If I was around more, I could’ve taught you how to prevent pregnancy.”

He shakes his head. “Papa, I know about condoms—”

I cut him off. “I know, hijo, but it’s more than that. I should’ve taught you about the responsibilities of being a father, the consequences, the things you’ll have to give up. More than anything, I should’ve been around more to show you how a father
should
be.”

“You’ve been good, Papa. You provide for our family. The tickets to Finding Nolan were sweet, no one else’s father got them backstage passes.”

I drop my head, ashamed. “Marcos, that’s not being a good father. That’s just buying your love for everything I’ve missed out on. Be honest with yourself. Would you rather have me buy you gifts or be at your baseball games and have dinner with you every night?”

My son mimics me as his head lowers and his gaze moves away from mine. “I understand, Papa.”

I take his chin in my fingers and turn his face to look at me. “Good. Now, promise me you won’t be like that to your child, even when you make it to the MLB.”

Marcos’ face lights up. “You really think I’ll make it?”

I shrug. “I’ve watched every one of your games on video. You’ve got what it takes but it’s going to be hard now with the baby. Promise me you won’t slack on your parental duties just for baseball.”

“I promise, Papa.” Marcos looks at me and narrows his eyes. “You’ve really watched every one of my games?”

I nod. “We need to work on your change up but for a pitcher, you’re an excellent batter.”

We both laugh and Marcos takes me by surprise as he leans over and hugs me. I squeeze my son tightly, not wanting to let this moment go.

Marcos speaks softly in my ear. “Mama’s at work. Take the flowers and don’t take no for an answer.” He nods toward the now wilting flowers on the coffee table and the small box beside it.

I pat his back and stand up. “Wish me luck, hijo.”

“Buena suerte, Papa!”

Dashing back down the stairs, I hear my son and run a little faster. I only hope Isabel is as quick to forgive as our son.

CHAPTER 13