Chapter Twenty-Three

Dimitri

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound of a ninety-eight mile an hour fastball hitting a leather pocket will never get old.

Normally I wouldn't be practicing right now, usually taking my off-season time to relax and rest from the thousands of pitches I throw in a year. Ivan convinced me we should throw a few to keep my arm warm with the upcoming camp tomorrow. It's also the best time to get me to talk. After last night, I could use someone to play my thoughts off of.

I don't blame Rose or Adrian for the events of the last ten years. I don't blame him for falling for her and I can't blame her for clinging to him so much. They were each other's lifelines - in more than one way. But if we intended on building a new life - which is definitely my plan - we have to put a few barriers up. Or maybe break some down. Guess it depends on how you look at it. She has to learn to talk to me the same way I did. And Adrian has to understand that I'm not giving up this time around. I walked away once. I won't make that mistake again.

"So things are good then," he asks, tossing the ball back to me.

After telling him everything that happened while he was in Russia, he had plenty of questions. Saving the best for last, I guess. He didn't question or even react when I told him I have a nine-year-old son or the fact that my Mama was staying in the states. He brushed right over those. Though he did ask about my alcohol intake after finding out, which I proudly admitted was minimal. Not zero, but minimal. Baby steps.

I spin it in my hand, rubbing my index finger along the seams. "We have a few more things to talk about, but as of right now, yeah - things are good."

"Well, I'm glad you're talking to someone."

Me too. Being back with Rose, I feel my old self come back to life in so many ways. I lost myself - my identity - over the years. I slipped away from who I was and turned into...a meathead. A stereotypical professional athlete with too much money and not enough sense. Will I be back one-hundred percent in a week or two? No. But every day I get with her, Xander, and my family, I gain a little more ground.

I wind up and send a curve right into the corner of the box. "All thanks to you and Ash. You both forced me into it."

"You needed it, man. I know it hurt like a bitch at first, but you needed it. I can already tell your game is gonna improve a ton by next spring."

"I'm more concerned about my life improving, not my game." I send another curve, low and inside this time. That's going to be a strikeout every time.

"Don't let Coach hear that."

"In all honesty, I don't care if he does. Rose and Xander are all I care about now. I've saved more than enough to quit today and live comfortably for a long, long while."

He lifts his mask, letting it rest on the top of his head, and hits me with a level stare. "Not if you break your contract. You just signed five more years last season. Walking out on that will cost you millions and…."

"And what?"

He holds up both hands, "Don't shoot the messenger, but a little birdy told me that New York is scouting for closers, and a certain someone is on their radar."

I'd like to be surprised, but New York has been dying in the bullpen for a while now. It's cost them the last few years in the playoffs. It was only a matter of time before they started looking around. Last season's draft was a wash for most teams, the only thing left to save them is to trade.

"You don't think Tanner would really let that happen, do you?"

"I don't know, D. Did he say anything when you had your end of the year evaluation?"

"He told me my stats were crap and that if I didn't show myself by spring he would put me back down, but never mentioned a possible trade."

"Well, I wouldn't worry too much then." He throws the ball back, adding as he squats back down, "At least not yet."

Not yet.

Those two words stick in my mind. It's always been a possibility, it happens every year. I just never planned on it happening to me. Especially now. At the beginning of the season, I wouldn't have cared. Now though, it's not me I have to worry about. Rose just crossed the ocean for me, can I really ask her to cross the country too?

"Hey." Ivan lays his hand on my shoulder. I hadn't even seen him walk the ninety feet. "Don't stress until they say something. Who knows, my intel could be wrong."

"Right," I nod. "Let's head in. Mama's making dinner for all of us tonight and we need to rest up for tomorrow."

"I'm lowkey kind of excited for this."

We head back to our respective homes and he meets me at mine an hour later. Mama fixed a feast fit for an army of my favorites from home. Ivan was more than appreciative of the cuisine choice, though Ash and Eddie seemed a bit lost making plates. Rose helped them out, picking a little bit of everything for them to try, and walking them through their plates. We sat around the new table in my kitchen, laughing and telling stories. Ivan threw me under the bus about the outing our freshman year - where I confessed to him all about Rose. She found it endearing. Me, not so much. When I left Baia, she was the only one who knew my soft side. Now, they all do. Not that I need to keep up the manly, fierce protector - who never shows any emotions - persona with my family, but still, I'd rather they not know that little detail.

"How did everything go today," I ask Rose as we clean up after dinner.

I know meeting Lissa and breaking open those old wounds wasn't going to be easy for her, but the lack of red in her eyes when she got home says it wasn't all bad. Though she's had a lot of practice at hiding how much she's hurting inside.

"Not great, but not awful." She dries the last plate and stacks it in the cabinet.

"Care to elaborate, moya lyubov'?"

"She gave me the ring my father gave her and a chotki from my grandmother," she opens the fridges, grabs a Dr. Pepper, and pops the top, "with a note that basically said I need Jesus and my father is a cheapskate."

"Oh." What am I supposed to say? It's well known that her father isn't cheap by any means, so it's not worth a second thought on her mother's opinion, but the way she did it. And the chotki being a symbol of prayer and faith...Janine needed it more than anyone. "Wow."

"Yeah, that's what I said." She takes a quick drink and hops onto the counter. "Liss was even surprised by it. But apparently, after I stopped visiting, Janine and Eric both went downhill. Leaving them alone to go out and gamble or drink a lot."

"So I take it you two talked for a little while." I step between her legs, resting my hands on her hips.

"Just a little. We're not instant best friends or anything, but I'm not mad at her anymore." She reaches up, wrapping her arms around my neck, "I have you and Xander - my life is finally coming together. No need to let the past hold me back."

"I'm proud of you, Roza. So damn proud."

"Thanks, Comrade."

Her hips grind forward into mine and it's time to say good night to the family. The last few days have been full of emotions. Roller Coaster drops that throw your stomach into your throat. It's time we find our way back up. Into the high life of being with the person that your soul connects with. The one who sees you for who you are - knows your flaws and imperfections - and loves every bit of it. Spending hours, skin to skin, bare of all things other than the passion and adoration you hold for the other. We're not frenzied to prevent being caught anymore. It's not ripping, gripping, and rough removal of clothes - clashing teeth or hurried thrust. It's slow. Piece by piece. Kiss for a kiss. Satisfaction in pure form. Bare of lies - half-truths - and tortured past.

It's perfect.

There's just one more thing - well, two really - that would make this even better.

Soon. I whisper to myself as I fall asleep beside the only woman I've ever brought home.

"Good job, Easton. There you go, Jax." I praise each kid as they work down the line for grounding drills. Well, all except for one. "Keep your butt down, Xander."

Ivan, Granger - our first baseman - and I are sitting across from the rope ladder, rolling baseballs toward the kids. The goal is to sidestep through the ladder and stop the ball. It's a simple drill for teaching ground ball plays, but Xander is not having it today. We've done this numerous times at home, he caught on really quick. Why is he messing up now?

"Grab a drink, boys," Ivan hollers at the group and pulls me aside. "Hey, maybe lighten up a bit on the kid."

"If he did it right I wouldn't have to get onto him." I toss two balls back in the bucket.

"Maybe if you stopped picking on him alone he would do it right. You've barked at him during every drill, he's not gonna want to play if you keep nagging him."

"He's the only one I'm allowed to get on to."

He drops three into the bucket, "What?"

"Tanner said the kids and parents are reporting their thoughts at the end. If I get onto them, it will make them upset, then the parents, and end the end, Tanner."

He waves an arm toward the water station, "You seriously think that these kids haven't been yelled at by coaches before? Do you remember college?"

"Yeah, but we were adults. They're ten."

"Fewer cuss words then," he half laughs with a raise of one shoulder and claps me on the back. "Look, getting onto Xander alone is going to do nothing but make him hate the game. Treat everyone the same. These kids are here to learn. So teach them. Four of them in the last run missed balls and stepped out of the ladder."

"I know."

"So correct them." Turning me around, he gives me a push, "Now go, apologize to your son."

I look back and laugh, "Who are you?"

"The one trying to keep you from losing what you just got back."

I clap his shoulder and head to the bench where we have the water set up. Taking a seat next to Xander, I grab a quick drink and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "I'm sorry, Son."

He takes a drink and shrugs, "It's fine."

"No, it's not. I shouldn't have picked on you," wrapping my arm over his shoulder, I pull him in close, "But you have been off today. Anything you want to talk about?"

He takes a moment to respond, the question isn't one I expected. "Why don't you and Uncle Adrian get along?"

Grating my knuckles along my jaw, I take a deep breath. "That's not something I can answer simply."

"Is that why he's leaving?"

I lean back, "Who said he's leaving?"

He rises, standing in front of me, taller than my sitting form, and waves a hand in the air. "He did. He told me this morning that he's going to Arizona to see Sydney. He said he didn't know when he would come back."

This is news to me. Rose talked everything out with him the other night, said they were good and he was happy for her. For us. She never mentioned he planned on leaving. Or that he was going to meet Sydney.

"Did your Ma say anything?"

"No," he drops back onto the bench, "Just Uncle Adrian."

"Okay. I didn't know he was going anywhere, but I'm sure there is a good reason. And it won't be forever."

"Mama said nothing would change when we moved here," his head falls below his shoulders, "Everything has changed."

"I know it's a lot, Xander. I can only imagine how much you're dealing with after the move, but your Mama and I will do everything we can to make it as easy as possible."

"I don't care about moving. I never had any friends at home anyways. I thought I would be getting a real family, not losing one."

"You're not losing anyone, bud. I promise." I knock his knee with mine, "Let me talk to him and we'll figure everything out."

He nods and takes off toward a few of the other kids, tossing a ball round-robin style, and I take the break to text Adrian.

Dimitri: You're leaving?

Adrian: Rose didn't tell you?

Dimitri: No.

Adrian: Oh. Then yeah. Syd lives with her sister in Arizona. I'm going to fly over to see her for a little while.

Dimitri: Are you coming back?

Adrian: Awe. Are you going to miss me?

Dimitri: My son will.

Adrian: I know. And I am sorry for that. But I need to do this for myself. Rose came here to fix her family. To find her happiness. It's my turn to do the same. I have my own bridges to mend.

Dimitri: I get it. I do. I hope you find it. And come back to your nephew who needs you. Or at least call him.

Adrian: I could never leave him and Rose for good.

Dimitri: Good.

Adrian: Take care of them, Dimitri.

Dimitri: Take care of yourself, Adrian.

"Belikov, let's go. Time for pop-up drills," Granger yells from behind 'home plate' in the corner of our training space.

I pocket my phone, toss my cup in the trash, and jog toward my son. He is the perfect mix of Rose and me. My height and build, her hair, eyes, and lips, my jawline and cheekbones, still blows me away. Part of me still struggles with missing out on his earlier years, but I know that no amount of anger or regret will change what happened. We made our choices. The only thing we can do now is to make the most of the life we have been given. The chance we have now to be better. Do better. And that is a chance I am not going to waste.

Squatting down, I place one hand on Xander's shoulder, looking into his mother's eyes, "He promises to come back, okay. I know it's hard right now, but he needs some time."

"Why?"

I'm sure there is a statistic on that question - one showing that it is the most unanswered question in history. I wish more than anything I could give Xander the answer. Instead, I stand up, wrap my arm around him, and start walking toward the right-field where our next drill is set up.

"How was camp?" Rose asks, drying off her hair, "Did he do well?"

I just walked in from day one of Rider's Rookies and I'm exhausted. Nine - nail-biting - innings is nothing compared to chasing a dozen kids around a ballfield for six straight hours. But I will admit, it was fun.

"Of course," I laugh. "And he made a few new friends during lunch."

"That's great…" She tilts her head, sliding on her night shorts, "Why do I feel like you're leaving something out?"

"When were you going to tell me about Adrian?"

She stops, both eyebrows hiking up, "How did you find out?"

"Xander." I toss my shirt in the dirty basket and turn on the shower.

"He told him?" She pinches the bridge of her nose, "I should go talk to him."

"I already did."

"Oh…"

Her tone takes me by slight surprise. Like she's amazed almost that I talked to Xander about anything, let alone my cousin who just two days ago we were still on shaky terms. "Is that not okay?"

"No. No. Of course, it is. I'm just…"

The light clicks. "Not used to it."

"Yeah. I'm sorry. It's always been Adrian and I that he comes to."

"I know," I step in front of her, rubbing both hands up and down her arms, "But things are different now. I'm not going anywhere this time."

She dips her fingers into the waistband of my shorts, eyes dark with lust when they connect with mine. Rising on her toes, I bend to meet her halfway. Our lips a breath apart, she whispers, "I know."

The moment our lips connect, I flashback to the post-game interview at the end of the season.

Dimitri, you have just won the world series, what are you going to do now?

My answer is still the same but has a whole new meaning.

I'm going home.

I've said it before, but I can't say it enough. Home isn't the stone walls on the outside of this house. It's not the bare floors or the California king-size bed in my room. It's her lips on mine, our son playing in the backyard, and the laughter filling the once empty space around us. I used to spend every possible moment away from here. First to arrive at practice and the last to leave. Now I'm struggling to get there on time and I'm out the door as fast as I can once the whistle blows. I never want to waste another moment. Not just for Rose and Xander, but for myself. I have beaten myself black and blue over the last decade - it's time to close the inning. End the game. And I know just the way to do it.