Behind the Plate (The Boys of Baseball #2) - J. Sterling Page 0,2

classes with ease like Mac and some of the others, but I wasn’t. And while I knew that an education was important, I really was only at Fullton State to play baseball, not to learn about things I’d never use later on in life.

“Really, you guys? You have to tell her all my personal business?” I asked both of them, not knowing who was to blame.

“She overhears everything,” my mom whispered toward me.

“I heard that,” Jacey announced from ten feet away.

“See?” My mom’s green eyes were wide. “It’s not natural.”

“Heard that too,” Jacey said in a singsong tone.

Shaking my head, I looked up toward the large clock in the terminal and glanced toward the line at security. “I need to get going,” I said, my tone sadder than I had intended. The last thing I wanted to do was upset my mom again and have her start crying.

“Did you hear about Coby?” my dad asked, almost hesitant, and I nodded.

“Yeah. Uncle Dean called me.”

Uncle Dean was my dad’s brother and my unofficial sports agent. Even though we weren’t allowed to sign any paperwork until after the season ended, it went without saying that he would be representing me. There was no way that I’d let anyone else handle my career. Not just because he was family, but also because he was respected across the industry and great at his job. I trusted my baseball future in his hands.

“And I talked to Coby this morning.”

My cousin, Coby, Uncle Dean’s son, was a baseball player too.

We had always talked about going to Fullton State together and playing on the same team in college. I thought it was our shared dream to continue some sort of Carter legacy, but instead of coming to school with me, he decided to play baseball out of state.

I was hurt at first when I found out, but after talking to Coby, I understood his reasoning. He knew that if he came to Fullton, he most likely wouldn’t be a starter for a couple years, if at all. He played infield and ours was already stacked. Coby’s best chance at actually playing and having a future in baseball was to go play somewhere else. I knew how hard the decision must have been for him to make, and I supported him a hundred percent. He’d sounded relieved when I congratulated him.

“I was really sad about it at first but mostly for selfish reasons. But I think it might be the best decision for him,” my mom said, always the logical one.

“It is. He’s doing the right thing,” I agreed as I sucked in a breath. “I really need to go,” I urged, hoping they’d let me walk away this time.

“Have a great season. We’ll come out soon,” my dad said with a grin, and I felt a little lighter.

I genuinely loved whenever they came to watch me play in the summer. It made baseball feel even more right, knowing they were all there, cheering me on.

There wasn’t a time when I remembered even playing baseball without my dad around, so summers always felt a little weird without him. You would think most kids would love the freedom, but I loved having my dad’s opinion, feedback, and help. He made me a better ball player.

My mom reached for me and hugged me hard. “You’re my favorite son.”

“I’m your only son.”

“So? You’re still my favorite,” she said with a small laugh.

“I’ll take it,” I said. Right when she was about to speak, I interrupted, already knowing what was coming next, “I know, Mom. Stay away from the girls who think I’m their meal ticket out of town.”

She shrugged. “You can’t blame me for being concerned.”

I could.

But I don’t.

She wasn’t wrong when it came to the way some of the girls acted. It seemed like not much had changed between my dad’s time playing baseball and mine. Girls chased me. They left their cell phone numbers on my Bronco windshield, stalked my social media profiles, sent me a million and one direct messages, pretended to run into me on campus, hung out with my teammates to get closer to me, befriended my little sister to get to me—that one pissed me off the most—and showed up at my place, uninvited.

One girl had even broken into my dorm room and waited naked for me in my bed until I got home from an away game my freshman year. All this shit sounded completely made up, and I wouldn’t have believed it if