Moving Forward: A Baseball Romance

  Prologue

  “That was awesome.” Tommy Adams clapped his hands together excitedly, bouncing on the edge of his heels as he stopped clapping long enough to lightly punch his father, Patrick Adams, on the shoulder. He used his other hand to wipe his palms on the back of his shorts as his shirt rode up his stomach. Tommy frowned as he tugged his shirt down, scowling at it as it rose back up again.

  “Did you see how they caught the ball, Dad?” Tommy asked, his eyes lighting up. “That was so sick.”

  Patrick grinned as he tugged on his collar. “Yes, that was a great game to watch, and I’m so glad I was able to get us those tickets.”

  “Seriously, Dad. You are cool.” Tommy’s eyes glinted gratefully. “I don’t think I know any other parents who are into baseball, let alone bother to take their sons to games.”

  Patrick pretended to pop his collar. “That’s just how I do, son. I’m groovy.”

  Tommy froze in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the people trickle past them, each on their way to something important. He smacked his hand across his forehead and groaned.

  “Dad,” Tommy complained. “We don’t say groovy anymore. I told you that already.”

  Patrick scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Are you sure? A word like that doesn’t go out of style.”

  “Trust me,” Tommy assured him. “I know what I’m talking about. I’m fifteen after all.”

  Tommy proudly puffed out his chest, catching the eye of a few girls on the other side of the street who giggled as they went on their way. The tips of Tommy’s ears turned pink, and he coughed to clear his throat.

  “Oh, you are, are you?” Patrick raised a dark eyebrow as he regarded his son with barely concealed amusement. “I hadn’t noticed, son.”

  “You should,” Tommy insisted. “Haven’t you noticed my beard?”

  Patrick peered at his son, and indeed saw a few fine hairs on top of the lips, and on his chin. He smiled proudly and leaned back, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  “Well, what do you know!,” Patrick agreed. His voice sounded gruff with emotion, so he cleared his throat and glanced around. “We’d better hurry home, or mom will worry.”

  Tommy inched closer to his father as the pavement started to look dirtier and became uneven. They were stepping into the rougher part of the neighborhood. Rumors swirled about this place, but it was the fastest way to get home, and Patrick firmly believed that people were innocent until proven guilty.

  That applied to neighborhoods too. He’d always taught Tommy to look past the exterior, to not judge a book by its cover; and places weren’t any different. The houses looked more run down here with faded paint jobs, and a couple of places were so run down, they looked as though they were about to fall apart.

  The people weren’t any different with their eyes sunken in their skulls and permanent scowls etched onto their faces. Their children had a haunted look that sent waves of pity coursing through Tommy. They didn’t run around and laugh like other kids. Instead, they sat on the outskirts of their houses staring at the streets with identical vacant expressions.

  Life was cruel to people here, and Tommy could never forget that. If you didn’t make it out of here alive, then you were likely to be stuck here for the rest of your life. Tommy straightened his back and added an extra swag to his walk, knowing that people here responded to that. If they felt like you were a big shot, they were likely to be afraid and stay away. It was just how it worked. They knew Tommy, but they hadn’t dealt with him since he’d gotten taller and filled out over the summer.

  “Hi, Mrs. Muller,” Patrick greeted as he raised his hand slightly. Mrs. Muller, a short stout woman with wisps of gray hair and a kind smiled lifted her head up and waved.

  “Hi, Tommy. Good game?” she called out as she gave him a thumbs up.

  He gave her one back. “Yes, it was great.”

  “Eh, who won?” Mr. Warren cupped his hand over his mouth and placed his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. Tommy spun on his heels and beamed. He loved talking to Mr. Warren who was as much a fan of baseball as he himself was. Back in the day, he was a serious contender and almost made it to the big league until an injury forced him to retire early. Mr. Warren ran his hands through his mop of white hair and then over his shirt to straighten it out.

  “The Chicago Coyotes,” Tommy informed him, pride ringing in his voice. “Of course. One day, I’m going to be a part of that team.”

  Mr. Warren’s mouth curled into a smile. “I’ve seen you play, boy. You’re good, so you have a good chance.”

  “I hope so, Mr. Warren.” Tommy shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”

  It was his dream, of course. To play for the Coyotes. He’d wanted to ever since he was old enough to understand baseball, and he was lucky enough to have parents who supported his dreams even though it was an unstable profession.

  “Hi, Carla.” Tommy greeted the five- year-old blonde who barreled into him. He righted her and ruffled her hair as she gave him a toothy grin. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

  “I’m going to show my friends my adult teeth,” she proclaimed as she kept her mouth open for inspection. Tommy took a quick look and nodded as he sent her on her way.

  It may be rough around the edges, but it was home, and they fit right in.

  “Tommy, your mother will kill me if we’re late for dinner,” Patrick complained, good naturedly. “Let’s go.”

  Tommy nodded. “Okay, okay. I hope she’s making something nice tonight.”

  “I’m sure it will be,” Patrick responded as they fell into subdued silence. “Are you going to try out for the baseball team at school?”

  Tommy hesitated.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was merely that he was afraid. Tommy didn’t fit the archetype of those who played baseball, and he came from the wrong side of the tracks. Sadly, for him, the school’s hierarchy was still very much in play especially when it came to sports. He may be good, but he wasn’t rich or popular. In fact, he was a bit of a nerd, and that further cemented his status as an outsider. As if his frayed clothes weren’t enough of an indication.

  Tommy hated it, but there wasn’t anything he could do. He definitely couldn’t alter his circumstances no matter how much he wanted to. If he could, things would be completely different.

  As it was, he had to make the most of what he had. Besides, if he wanted to try and claw his way out of the run-down neighborhood, baseball was the way to go. He could get a sports scholarship, and that would be his ticket out of it.

  But first, he needed to try out for the baseball team.

  He was getting ahead of himself as he tended to do when he was excited.

  “I’m a bit nervous, Dad,” Tommy admitted. “I’m not like the other people who will be trying out.”

  “By other, I’m guessing you mean rich?” Patrick sighed as he scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry about that, son, but you shouldn’t be ashamed of where you come from, and you are good. Forget about the status, the social pyramid and all that. Just focus on your game, okay?”

  Patrick clapped his son on the back. “I’ll be right there cheering for you at every game.”

  “Do you really think I can make it?” Tommy’s brows furrowed together as he tried to envision it in his head. The feeling of slipping on the uniform, the solid feel of the bat in his hands, and the hush that descended upon the crowd as they waited to see how everything would go.

  “Yes,” Patrick confirmed as they stopped outside the liquor store, and he gave his son an encouraging smile. “I think you can do anything you set your mind to.”

  Tommy blinked. “That’s kind of a clich�
�, Dad.”

  Patrick and Tommy stared at the car that was coming up the road, the black exhaust trailing behind it, and the sound of popping steadily following in its wake. Tommy shook his head as he gave the car an incredulous look.

  “He should get that fixed.”

  Patrick was looking at something intently, staring at a fixed spot behind Tommy’s back. His brows knitted together, and his mouth pressed into a thin line. Tommy frowned as he craned his neck to take a look, but Patrick placed his hand firmly on Tommy’s shoulder to keep him from looking.

  “No,” Patrick mouthed as he shook his head slowly. “Just keep walking, Tommy.”

  Tommy swallowed past the lump of fear that suddenly rose in his throat. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “They have guns. Don’t look at them”. Patrick whispered, his face going pale as his hands clenched into fists.

  “Should I call the cops?” Tommy’s hand hovered over his pockets where he could feel the solid weight of his phone.

  “They’ll see you,” Patrick said, fearfully. “Don’t risk it.”

  “We can’t just stand here,” Tommy argued. In the next instant, Patrick shot forward and tackled Tommy to the ground. Tommy grunted as the breath was knocked out of him, and he lay on the floor heaving, trying to get the air back into his lungs.

  Black spots danced in Tommy’s field of vision as he rapidly blinked and tried to focus on the shapes around him. All he could hear was shouting. It sounded loud and deafening, but he could hear it past the roaring in his ears.

  His heart pounded steadily as he brought his hands up to his head and winced. He had a bump on the back of his skull, most likely a concussion, and he tasted blood in the back of his mouth. He must’ve bitten his tongue on his way down.

  Speaking of down, where was his dad?

  The sound of shallow breathing drew his attention, and his eyes started to clear as the outline of his dad came into focus. Patrick was lying next to Tommy, breathing heavily as his hand stayed over a stomach wound, pressed tightly as blood gushed forth. Patrick opened his mouth, but Tommy could only hear gurgling.

  Tommy winced as a loud scream pierced the air, and he brought hands up to cover his ears. He had no idea what was happening, but he knew he needed to get his dad. For some reason, his body wasn’t responding as he lay there, helplessly waiting for the feeling to come back to his extremities.

  Patrick’s body writhed and convulsed next to him, and he turned his head to the side as he heard the police sirens from far away.

  “Dad,” Tommy croaked. “I’m coming, Dad. Just hang in there.”

  The shock began to wear off, and the adrenaline kicked in as Tommy kept his head down and crawled towards his father’s inert body. His hands were shaking as he placed them over the wound, gasping as he tried to get the air into his lungs.

  “Damn it,” he cursed. Why wasn’t his brain working faster? He needed it right now. The sound of chaos continued around him as Tommy frantically searched for a pulse.

  There was none.

  Tommy hung his head low as he realized his father was dead.

  Chapter 1

  “Jenny, Sally, wait up,” Aimee called out as she huffed and placed her hands on her thighs, taking in a ragged breath as she glared daggers at her friends. She wiped her hands on her sweatpants and straightened her back, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

  She never thought she’d make it to this day. Aimee Lincoln had dreamt about a lot of things in her life, like being a ballerina when she was younger, and at some point, being a pop rock princess, much like Avril Lavigne.

  Eventually, like all kids, she’d grown out of those dreams, but there was one that hadn’t changed. Her desire to leave Chicago. She just wanted to watch it fade into the distance in the rearview mirror as she reached the city limits and kept driving forward.

  Back then, it didn’t matter if she had a specific destination in mind because all she wanted was the open road ahead of her, and the wind blowing in her face. She’d realized after a while that she’d need a more practical plan to guarantee that she’d never come back crawling with her tail between her legs. Her parents would never let her live it down, especially her father.

  Yes, Aimee Lincoln had forgotten about most of her childhood dreams, but it was her ability to envision herself leaving that had kept her going this far. Finally, she was a senior in high school. The days had blended into each other until she couldn’t stop herself from tapping her foot against the floor, but she’d made it.

  Now, all that was left was to get her dad to ease up. He was always on her case, and it was frustrating her to no end. When she first expressed her wish to become a vet, her father had scoffed and instead directed her towards a career in medicine. Reluctantly, she’d accept in the hopes that she’d be able to change his mind someday.

  As of now, that day still didn’t exist, but she was hopeful. After all, she had all summer to change his mind. Right now, she was too busy cursing under her breath because her friends were in such a hurry to get out of school, they’d ditched her.

  Just wait till she got her hands on them.

  “Boo,” Jenny screamed as she popped up from behind a bush. Aimee’s hand flew to her chest as her heart started beating erratically, and she gave Jennifer a dirty look.

  “Seriously? Didn’t we grow out of that phase after elementary?”

  Jennifer Cole, her best friend since Kindergarten ran a finger through her blonde hair, raising an eyebrow. “When did you turn into such a stiff? Come on, Amy, lighten up.”

  Aimee cringed. “You know I hate it when people call me that.”

  “Why, Amy? Don’t you like it when people subscribe to misconceived notions about your name?” Jennifer sung as she jumped out of the way when Aimee tried to pinch her shoulder and ended up missing.

  “You missed!” Jennifer taunted. “Sally, would you get off your phone already?’

  Sally, Aimee’s other best friend, was a petite redhead who was a lot more introverted than the other two, so most people wondered how she fit into their group. The truth was, they’d been friends for so long, they couldn’t even remember how it all started, and they didn’t care. They’d stuck by each other through middle and high school unlike most girls in their class. A fact they were proud of.

  “Sorry guys. It’s just that Justin was checking,” Sally said, sheepishly as a blush stole across her cheeks. She bit down on her bottom lip before she hastily put her phone away and self-consciously reached out to touch the strands of her pixie cut. “I’m still not used to this height. I miss my old hair.”

  Jennifer swatted her hand away. “Yes, but it looks cute, so relax, and let’s go have a drink or two. We are legal adults now.”

  Jennifer tossed her head back and yelled at the top of her lungs. Sally rolled her eyes, and Aimee shook her head as they both shared a look, silently communicating about their friends’ antics.

  “Let’s go.” Aimee linked her arm through Jennifer’s on one side, and Sally on the other, leading them all to the bar that was a couple of blocks down the street. She hoisted her bag higher up on her shoulder, thankful for the fact that she’d decided to bring an extra change of clothes for their outing, given how sweaty she was.

  She wiped her hand across her brow as they rounded the corner and stood in front of the pulsing neon sign that read Eden. The title was cheesy, but in their town, it was the best bar around. Aimee steered the girls towards the bathroom, having snuck in a few times with her fake ID, and they all proceeded to change into their dresses.

  Jennifer had on a short dark green dress, Sally opted for pale pink, and Aimee had chosen a dark blue that was the same hue as her eyes. She fluffed her hair in the mirror, and they all walked towards the bar, feeling confident as they earned a few stares.

  Aimee confidently leaned over the bar and ordered three screw drivers.

  “Has your dad eased up yet?” Jennifer asked as she leaned her elbows against the counter and eyed Aimee sympathet
ically.

  Aimee sighed. “No, he just won’t ease up. He’s so serious all the time and doesn’t want me to have any fun because he thinks it’ll ruin my chances of getting into med school.”

  “You’re a shoe in, though,” Sally protested. “I don’t understand why you can’t let loose a little. Where does he think you are tonight, anyway?”

  “Ice cream parlor with you guys.” Aimee waggled her eyebrows. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right?”

  “I guess,” Sally said, dubiously. “But, won’t he get worried?”

  Aimee scoffed. “I doubt that. He deals in numbers and variables, not emotions.”

  “Hi,” a man interrupted, looking nervous as he stood there before he awkwardly shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Hi,” Aimee greeted, a flirty smile on the edge of her lips.

  “I saw you from over there, and I—well—” the man stuttered. Jennifer and Sally snickered, and Aimee elbowed them as she shot them a glare before she turned her attention back to the handsome stranger.

  “You were going to buy me a drink, right?” Aimee prompted, giving him a bright smile in response.

  The man stared. “Yes, Yes, I’d love to. What are you going to have?”

  “Dirty martini,” Aimee responded as she leaned over the counter, resting her elbows easily. “I’m Aimee.”

  “I’m Dustin,” he introduced as he held out his palms.

  “Dustin, you have very sexy hands,” Aimee said as she gave him a sexy grin. “Did anybody ever tell you that?”

  Dustin began to scratch the back of his head. “No, I can’t say that I’ve heard that before.”

  “Well, you do.” Aimee turned his hand over, so his palm was facing upward, and she used the tip of her finger to trace the lines there. “Just look at them.”

  Dustin cleared his throat and beamed. “I’ve never seen you around here before.”

  “It’s my first time,” Aimee spoke as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “What do you like about this place?”

  “Well, I—” the man began before a tall guy muscled his way in and shoved the guy to the side, rather unceremoniously. Aimee narrowed her eyes into slits, her easygoing smile fading as she took in the steroid pumped man salivating before her.