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.”