We get some answers in this one.
Chapter 5
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"Seth, come on. We're going to be late," I yell up the stairs. We're actually not, but I want him to hurry up.
He pokes his head out of his doorway and yells back, "Where is my jock...and my other blue sock?"
"You know you don't have to wear a jock."
"I want to," he whines. He wants to be like the real players.
"Okay, but no cup," I say, relenting. I sigh and walk up the stairs because now I have to retrieve the jock strap which is probably behind the dresser or some other random place. Why is it that I have to find everything?
Five minutes later we're in the car on the way to the local field. Seth can't stop chattering about playing.
"...and I get a real uniform, and there's gonna be coaches...do you think my coach actually played baseball?" he asks excitedly.
I think about "grandpa" Emmett and the fact that he likely walks with a cane or something. "I'm sure he did, Seth. But probably a long time ago." I don't add that it was probably before the turn of the century. "Go easy on Coach today, Slugger. He probably needs to practice for a few days because he'll be rusty." Because all we need is for the coach to break a hip going after a grounder and scar these kids for life.
We pull into the lot and Seth is nearly vibrating with excitement. This is his first real organized baseball experience on a team, though he's been able to throw, catch, and hit since he was two years old. That talent is courtesy of Phil, probably the only thing he ever gave him.
We're early (because I always plan it that way), so there's only one guy there and he's raking the infield.
Holy crap. This guy is huge.
And I don't mean in the elastic pants, beer-belly way. He's huge in the "I drink protein shakes while benching small cars" way.
Seth grabs his glove and takes off running towards bigger-than-Thor, yelling, "Coach, coach, I'm ready!" I can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. He's talked about nothing other than this since I signed him up. I grab my backpack containing my notes out of the trunk, along with Seth's bag that he left behind in his excitement to get on the field.
"Hey Seth," I call out, but he's already on the field standing in front of the...coach? Wait, that can't be Emmett, because he certainly doesn't fit the mental image I've conjured in my head. I walk over to where Seth is shaking hands with this dude. This dude who is definitely not a grandpa. He's thirty at the most and model handsome.
"Hi, I'm Emmett," he says with a dimpled smile. "I was just talking to Seth. I'm going to be his coach. You must be Bella."
"Hi, Emmett," I say, and realize that my judgment where men is concerned is completely out of whack. This is what happens when you're basically a hermit.
Other players walk over and gather around him, so we don't continue our conversation. Emmett positions the kids to play catch to warm up, and I sit down and start studying. When I glance up, I notice that other parents are chatting to each other or on their phones. I feel a small victory as none of the dads are hot - just like I told Alice. Wait, lack of hot men is a victory?
When he starts running fielding drills, I see that he needs a hand to retrieve errant throws. None of the dads seem to be able to put down their phone long enough to help out, so I grab my glove out of Seth's bag and start shagging balls and tossing them to Emmett.
"Hey thanks, Bella. I appreciate your help."
"No problem. I'm used to doing this with Seth."
"My brother is supposed to be helping out, but he was held up tonight."
"I'm glad you have another coach, because I don't think those dads over there are going to be much help." I gesture to the bleachers, where one guy is watching a movie on his iPad and another is swearing loudly into his blue tooth.
He taps a grounder to Seth who fields it easily and throws a strike to me. "Seth is a natural. Does he get it from mom or dad?"
"Dad," I sigh. "He's a professional player."
"Majors?"
"Major douchebag," I joke. Emmett laughs. "Mostly minor league experience."
"I played a few seasons of minor league ball...maybe I know him."
"Phil Dwyer?"
"Fuck. He is a major douchebag."
I snort. "So you do know him."
"Does he come around?"
"He hasn't been around since he terminated his parental rights."
"Asshole. I can't imagine not being with your kid. Right now I'm fighting for my rights."
"Is your son supposed to be here? I wasn't sure."
"Yeah, his mom and I are separated, and she doesn't want him playing. I volunteered to coach months ago, before we broke up. I still hoped that we would come to an agreement about this, but I guess I'll be coaching everyone else's kids." Emmett looks heartbroken. I help him gather the equipment as the team takes a lap. "This was supposed to be a special activity for the two of us, you know, father and son."
His words are breaking my heart - not just for him, Seth too. He'll never get to play catch with his father.
"I'm sorry, Emmett. I only wish that Seth had another person besides me who cared about him as much as you love your son."
"Thanks, Bella. So, it's just you and Seth?"
"Yes. Our mother is dead," I say quietly. Emmett looks surprised.
"Now I'm sorry."
"It's fine, Emmett. I can handle it. It's actually been nice to talk to someone other than my best friend Alice."
"And it's nice to talk to a woman besides my mother who doesn't yell and complain all the time. And can catch too." He grins.
I giggle at his comment. "I can't believe you were a ball player." His wife must be blind and stupid because Emmett seems to be wonderful.
"Hey, I'm not that rusty!" he protests. He lines the kids up for base running and starts the next drill.
"No, not because of that. Let's just say I've held a grudge against them ever since Phil."
"Bella, I have to say that's pretty unreasonable. I'm a good guy - unless you ask my ex. My brother plays for ASU, and he's a great guy."
"Really? I go to ASU. What's his name?" Emmett doesn't answer because he's staring towards the parking lot.
"Riley," he breathes.
"Your brother's name is Riley?" Is that name common now? That's the second time this week I've heard it.
"My son is here. My brother brought him," Emmett says with pride before he jogs toward the parking lot. I look in that direction and see Emmett hugging a blond boy who must be his son. And standing next to the both of them is Edward.
As a scientist, my job is to test out a hypothesis. And right now, my evidence is telling me that I'm all wrong.
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A/N:
So, who was right?
Thanks for all your lovely reviews. I'm behind on review replies, but I'm going to try to catch up.
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