Caught Up (Windy City Series Book 3)

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?”

“Because Miller was five years old, and she had just lost her mom.”

My eyes dart to the framed picture on his desk. A pre-teen Miller in her yellow softball shirt with a giant number fourteen on her uniform. Knowing what I know of the woman now, my chest aches at what she went through at such a young age.

Taking off my hat, my thumb dusts the photo of Max I keep tucked in there.

Monty sighs with resignation. “She was in kindergarten and had lost the only parent she had ever known. She needed me.”

“Do you regret quitting? Is that why you don’t want me to do the same?”

“Not for a second. I needed her as much as she needed me, but it was different for Miller and me than it is for you and Max. I was looking for direction at that point in my life, and I’m a much better coach than I ever was a player.”

My eyes stay glued to her photo.

“You have the help I never had. You and Max have so many people behind you. Your brother, me, this entire team.”

Miller, I silently add.

I can see it from the weeks she’s been here how protective she is of Max, how much she cares for him already, but I won’t say that out loud for her father to hear.

“What is quitting going to do? Keep you home to make sure Max is happy? You know what makes a kid happy? Watching their parent fulfill their dreams. Baseball is still your dream, I know it is. Stop viewing it as the enemy and let yourself enjoy it. All of it—the team, the travel, the fans. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.”

Keeping my eyes on Miller’s photo, her words ring through my mind. How she doesn’t want Max to feel the guilt she does, how she wants to help me find a balance between the two loves in my life.

“Kai, look at me.”

I do so, finding Monty across the desk.

“I love both you and your son. You know that. You’re the best pitcher I’ve ever had on my roster, but I wouldn’t ask you to stay if I didn’t think it was the right thing for you both. I want you to have the opportunity I never had. You’ve got a hell of a lot of people in your corner.”

For someone who has always felt alone in my responsibilities, never having anyone else to rely on, it’s not easy for me to see the help around me. But it’s there. There’s not a single soul on this team or staff who wouldn’t go out of their way for me or my son. I tend to wallow in self-pity, telling myself I’m alone in this, but I’m not.

I nod. “Sometimes I forget to look.”

“Well, you spent a lot of years looking and coming up empty, so I don’t blame you, but that’s not the case anymore.”

Silence lingers between us.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He gestures towards the field. “Good. Go get your ass in the bullpen.”

Chuckling, I stand as he does the same. When he takes my hand to shake, he tugs on it, pulling me across the desk to throw his arms around me in a hug, but as I leave, he stops me.

“Ace, what was that hug for when you first came in?”

I hold his eye contact, making sure he hears my words. “For taking care of Miller when she needed it. You’re a good man, Monty.”

“Ah fuck,” he breathes out, chuckling under his breath. “You’re getting soft on me.”

“I can’t help it. Something weird happens to your emotions when you have a kid.”

“Tell me about it.” Monty shakes his head, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, trying to be discreet about it. “Get out of here. I need to get my shit together so I can go out there and pretend I’m a lot tougher than I actually am.”

“It’s hotter than Satan’s asshole,” my brother complains as he warms up his arm next to me, throwing down the foul line to Cody.

I do the same, stretching out my shoulder and throwing at twenty-five percent speed to one of the other starting pitchers who will be hanging out with me in the bullpen tonight.

“I don’t miss Texas for a lot of reasons,” I say. “But these bullshit temperatures are pretty high up there if not the number-one reason.”

Isaiah catches the ball, holding on to it as he turns to me. “Do you ever feel weird coming back here?”

I couldn’t care less about being back in my home state. Both Seattle and Chicago feel more like home than this place does. I spent my teen years grinding while I was here, trying to get my brother into college on a scholarship, figuring out a way for us to get to practice and school all while hoping to make him feel the love and support our dad couldn’t provide.

I keep my ball in my glove, facing him. “Nah. Do you?”

“Not weird, but I kind of miss it. I have some good memories growing up and playing ball here.”

I swear it’s that dad thing I was talking about, getting me all emotional, but there’s a flood of relief that flows through me knowing my little brother can look back at that time in our lives with nostalgia. I thought it would fuck him up. I thought me raising him would fuck him up, but he seems to be doing all right.

Leaving my spot, I throw an arm over his shoulder and palm the back of his head. “Yeah, man. We did have some good times here, huh?”

“Hey, Rhodes!” someone yells from the quickly-filling stands. “Your ass looks good in those baseball pants!”

Isaiah’s smile grows as he investigates the crowd behind me. Following his line of sight, I find the owner of that raspy voice wearing those cut-off overalls, sunglasses, and holding my son.

God, she looks good. In a sea of royal blue and red, she’s all denim and earth tones.

But what is she doing here? The game is about to start and she’s got Max situated in her overalls like some kind of kangaroo. When I look a bit closer I can see him wearing the mini version of my jersey the team bought for him with his arms and legs slathered in sunscreen.

My brother turns around to show off his butt, looking back at it. “This old thing?”

“Not you,” she shouts back, nodding in my direction. “I’m talking about the hot single dad over there! Number twenty-one.”

“Him?” Isaiah asks, throwing a thumb towards me. “He’s old as hell.”

“I’m two years older than you, you dick.”

“What can I say?” Miller yells to the field. “I’ve got a thing for older guys!” She punctuates that with an admiring whistle of her lips.

My smile is painfully big as it covers my face, partly because Miller calling me hot in front of my brother does something stupid to my ego, but mostly because Max is here and he’s never been to one of my games.

I jog over to them as they stand in the first row behind the barrier between the field and the fans.

“What are you guys doing here?” Max turns to look down as he sits in Miller’s overalls, his cute, chubby-cheeked smile finding me. “Hi, Bug!”

“I thought you might want to have Max nearby seeing as you’re in the bullpen today.”

My eyes dart to hers. “Where are you sitting?”

She points to a seat off the foul line, the first one on the side of the bullpen. A spot where I’d be able to see them both all game.

“How the hell did you score that seat?”

“I know somebody who works for the team.”

My head jerks to the field where Monty stands in front of the dugout, but he stares straight ahead, wearing his sunglasses and chewing his gum as if he wasn’t just looking over here.

Max reaches back for me. “Dadda!”

“Hi, little man! I missed you this morning.”

Miller unhooks one of her overall straps and pulls him out.

“You look like a kangaroo wearing him like that.”

“But like a hot kangaroo, yeah?”

She passes Max to me over the barrier as I stay silent, not answering her question that’ll get me in trouble. Because yes, her carrying my son around, even if she’s doing it in a weird Miller way, is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.

“There’s my guy.” I pop a couple kisses on his cheek. “Are you my little kangaroo?”

He giggles.

“Look at you in your jersey,” I say, running a soothing hand over his back where our last name is. “You’re ready for the game, huh?”

Max falls onto my shoulder, burying his head in the crook of my neck and knocking his tiny baseball hat off his head. I catch Miller watching him—us—with a soft smile.

“Max-a-million!” Isaiah exclaims. “Are you here to watch your uncle absolutely dominate on the field?”

My brother takes my son from me, running him to the infield and showing him off to the rest of the boys. Max smiles while my entire team dotes on him, as if we don’t have a professional game we need to focus on in less than an hour.

With my hands up on the barrier between the field and the stands, I watch as Isaiah holds his nephew on his hip, running him around the bases, only to be greeted by the rest of the team at home plate.

My heart physically aches, but it’s not from the time away or the missed moments with my son. It’s because for the first time since Max came into my life, I feel like I could have it all.

A small hand lands on mine as it sits on the padded barrier, and I look up to find Miller watching me.

“He’s never been to one of my games before,” I tell her, my voice a bit hoarse. “Thank you for bringing him, Mills.”

A single brow lifts. “Mills, huh?”

“Don’t try to ruin the moment with humor, Montgomery. I’ll call you whatever the hell I feel like.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

The woman next to her coughs into her fist, reminding us that she’s there.

“Baseball Daddy, I mean.”

I simply shake my head at her.

I’ve quickly learned that Miller isn’t great with sentimental moments, so instead of saying anything in that regard, she simply squeezes my hand. I squeeze back, the two of us having a silent conversation in the crowded stadium. Her telling me she’s backing up her promise to help me find balance in my life and me finally accepting some help.

“I’m going to go show him around the dugout.” I lean down, picking up Max’s hat, but as I walk backward, I keep my attention on her. “I don’t see you wearing number twenty-one. Where’s your jersey?”

“I’m more of a fourteen gal myself.”

Her softball number.

I keep my mouth shut to not let out that I’ve looked at that photo of her on her dad’s desk too many times and know the reference well.

“If you’re going to start coming to my games, I better see Rhodes on your back and I’m not talking about my brother.”

“Is this some athlete kink you got? Need to see a girl in your jersey?”

The old flirty side of me that I’ve kept hidden and locked down for the most part since Max came into my life is itching to break free.

I pop my shoulders. “I like to see pretty girls in my jersey. Like to take it off them too.”

Miller’s lips part, a shocked and satisfied grin lifting on the corners. “Well, with that kind of promise, I’ll be sure to wear it next time.”

My chest heaves in a laugh she can’t hear because I’m too far away now, and though Miller’s blatant comments are meant to rile me up and they hold no guarantees behind the words, I can’t deny that they make me feel like my old self, the one who was happy and light without the weight of more responsibilities than one person could handle alone.

Only, the best part of it all is that my son is here, and I still feel that way.

The training room is packed post-game because besides the flight home, we finally have the day off tomorrow. Most of the guys are getting their treatment done tonight so they don’t have to meet with a trainer or team doctor in the morning before the flight. I’m one of those guys, looking forward to sleeping in as much as my son will allow, so with an exercise band tied around a pole, I pull it away, giving my rotator cuff some light work.

Typically, I’d be rushing out of here, especially after a loss, hoping to get back to the hotel in time to put Max down for the night, but for the first time all season, I don’t feel the need to make up for those missing moments.

Because I got to see him all game.

Sitting on Miller’s lap, he’d wave at me in the bullpen every few minutes until he passed out in the third inning, sleeping against her chest. I’m fairly certain my kid was drooling all over her, but she didn’t seem fazed. She simply rubbed his back as he napped, reapplying sunscreen on his little body when the time came, and kept a mini fan on him for all nine innings.

I got to be there when he woke up, reacclimating to his surroundings, and when he looked up at the girl who had him in his arms, that sleepy smile bloomed.

He loves her. It’s obvious in the way he looks at her, in the way he reaches for her when she’s near. She brings him a comfort he was missing, and she equally brings me the same, knowing how well they get along.

“Kenny, please,” my brother begs, following his favorite trainer around, slipping between tables to stay on her heels.

“I’m not working on you.”

“It’s your literal job to work on me.”

Kennedy ignores him, wrapping ice around Cody’s knee.

“Kenny,” he whines like the child he tends to be.

“Sanderson is free. Hey, Sanderson!” she calls out. “Rhodes needs some work.”

“No—”

“What’s hurting?” he asks, stepping up.

My brother’s eyes widen. “Nothing.”

Kennedy falls into laughter behind him. “C’mon, Isaiah. Tell him what you wanted me to rub out.”

Sanderson holds his hands up. “I swear to God if you say your dick, I’m quitting on the spot.”

“Jesus Christ,” I huff, shaking my head because well, I’m fairly certain that’s exactly what my brother was about to say.

“No. God no. It’s my ass.”

“Your glutes,” Kennedy corrects.

“My glutes.”

“Hop up.” Sanderson pats his table. “Let’s take a look.”

Isaiah shoots Kennedy a death glare and holds her attention while he gets on Sanderson’s table, ass up.

She wears a satisfied smile when Sanderson starts working an elbow on my brother’s glutes, but when Isaiah starts giving the trainer genuine direction and making sounds of discomfort, Kennedy’s face falls.

“Isaiah, are you actually hurting?” I ask.

“Yeah. What did you think, I was asking Kenny to work on me just so she’d touch my butt?”

“Yes,” most of the room says in unison.

“You all suck, but no, I just think she’s good at her job.”

“Hey,” Sanderson scolds.

“You too, man.”

My brother stiffens on the table in pain, his entire body going rigid as Sanderson works an elbow into his glute muscle.

Kennedy watches from above him for a moment before putting a hand on the back of Isaiah’s shoulder, her teasing tone gone. “I got you next time, Rhodes.”

“Thank God because next time what I need rubbed out is my di—”

“You always make me regret it.”

He peeks his head out from the table, shooting her a cheeky smile.

A knock sounds on the training room door before Miller enters, eyes closed. “Everyone decent?” she asks before peeking one lid open to see the entire team somewhat dressed. “Dang it.”

She holds both of Max’s hands above his head, letting him use her for balance as he practices his wobbly steps into the giant open room.

“Look at those big steps!” Isaiah says, sitting up on the edge of the table.

“Nice work, Maxie!” Travis, my catcher, chimes in.

Hurrying to the door, I get on my haunches only a few feet away from him, holding out my hands. “Come on, Max. Let’s see it.”

I wait, hoping this is the time he finally gains the confidence to take his first steps.

When Miller releases him he pauses, wobbly as fuck, and when he tries to take that first solo step, he simply falls back on his butt, his diaper taking the brunt of the impact before he gets to his hands and knees, crawling to me equally as happy for himself as if he were to walk.

I chuckle, picking him up. “Good try, Bug. We’re getting there.”

Miller stands by the door, all warm and glistening from the sun she got, and suddenly an overwhelming urge to kiss her rolls over me. She’s so pretty and so ridiculous sometimes but seeing her with Max today, and knowing she brought him so I could have the two things I love in one place, has me feeling far too attached to the girl that only a couple of weeks ago I wanted gone.

“Meet in the lobby at eight,” Cody announces. “Monty, close your ears,” he adds, directing his words to my coach who just walked in. “We’re getting drunk tonight, boys. Maybe a few of you might even get lucky. We’re going dancing and we’re not going back to the hotel until the sun comes up.”

“I know nothing,” Monty says, plugging his ears before tossing a quick kiss on his daughter’s head and ducking into the adjoining office.

“Kenny, you coming?” Isaiah’s voice holds so much hope.

“No.”

“Cool. Cool.” He looks up to Miller. “Hot Nan—”

His eyes meet mine, and I don’t even have to say anything for him to know that if he finishes that sentence, I’ll kick his ass.

“Miller,” he corrects. “You in?”

Miller’s attention darts to me. “Are you going?”

I nod towards my son, letting that speak for me.

She turns back to my brother. “I think I’m going to stay back.”

I like the idea of that far too much, that she wants to stay in because we are. But she’s twenty-five years old and I’m sure this summer away from work is nothing like she had envisioned. The last thing I want is for her to resent us.

“You should go. All you’ve done this summer is chase around my fifteen-month-old.” I nod towards my brother. “This wouldn’t be much different.”

“Fuck you very much.” He adds two middle fingers for dramatic effect.

Max laughs at his uncle.

“Great,” I deadpan. “Can’t wait for him to add fuck to his limited vocabulary.”

“That’s okay. I’ll help you get Max down for the night,” Miller says.

“I got him. You should go.”

“Listen to Ace,” Travis pipes up. “You should come out with us, Miller.”

My head jerks in his direction, not liking the way he said her name, all soft and wistful like that. Travis is a good guy, a good teammate, but I don’t need him talking to Max’s nanny that way. I don’t need him looking at her like that either, as if she might be the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

She is, but he shouldn’t be noticing.

My attention then finds my brother, wearing the most devilish smile on his face.

What the hell is that look for?

Miller turns back to me. “You sure you don’t mind?”

Fuck.

I swallow down the regret. “Yeah.”

“Kennedy,” she says. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

Kennedy hesitates, which is surprising. She’s never once gone out with the team, not wanting to blur the lines between work and fun. Something not a single one of the men on staff has ever had to worry about.

“I’m going to pass,” she eventually decides. “Thanks for the invite though.”

Isaiah scoffs. “I always invite you and you never thank me for the offer.”

Kennedy completely ignores him.

“You’re going too, Ace,” Monty says, strolling out of his office. “I’ve been wanting to hang out with this little guy and tonight seems like the perfect opportunity.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I’m going to head back with him.”

Monty lifts his brows as if he were silently reminding me of the conversation we had earlier today.

Find the balance. Enjoy it while you still have it.

I look from him to his daughter.

There’s a naughty tilt to her lips. “You should come.”

I choke on my own saliva because Miller is fucking Miller and said that with so much innuendo, it’d be impossible not to pick up on the alternate meaning.

“Fucking gross,” Monty mutters.

“Let’s stop cussing in front of my kid.”

“Yeah, stop fucking cussing, Monty,” Isaiah calls out.

Monty shoots him a dangerous look.

“I mean . . . you should say whatever you’d like, sir.”

My coach takes my son from me. “I’m hanging out with Max tonight whether or not you go out and have some fun.”

Watching my kid fully content with the man who has adored him since he came into my life, I look back to Miller. Her green eyes are lifted and expectant, waiting for my answer.

For once, I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything because I got to have him nearby all day. I don’t feel guilty for wanting to go have fun with my teammates. The only guilt I have is due to my coach’s daughter occupying a bit too much of my brain space lately.

“Okay,” I say, looking right at her. “I’ll come.”

That sly smile lifts.

“Let’s go!” Cody pipes in. “Daddy is coming out! Fucking finally!”

There’s a shit ton of noise and cheers, being far too hyped for a team that just lost the final game of a road series, but I haven’t been out with the boys since last summer.

The energy in the training room is wild as the guys get their things together, wanting to get back to the hotel as soon as possible, but I keep my eyes on Miller, who stands there, infinitely proud of herself for getting me out for the night.