Behind the Plate (The Boys of Baseball #2) - J. Sterling Page 0,4

with only three days off the whole summer would do that to a person.

“Let’s get your shit and get you to your new house,” my dad directed as he slung an arm over my shoulders and walked us toward baggage claim.

We pulled into the driveway of the baseball house like we’d done it a thousand times before even though this was the first time we’d driven here together.

“I parked The Beast over there,” he said, pointing at the old Bronco.

It was my dad’s old car, and I fucking loved it. My mom had said there used to be a hole in the passenger floorboard or something like that, but my dad had had it fully restored at some point during my childhood after I told him I wanted it when I was bigger. I never remembered saying that, but I must have because he had given it to me on my sixteenth birthday, and I’d been driving it ever since. I loved that damn car.

“I’ve missed driving it.” I opened the passenger door, stepped out, and stretched, reaching my arms high into the air.

My dad popped the trunk before leaning out the driver’s window. “Come home for dinner soon. Before things get too crazy here.”

“I will,” I promised.

When I’d first moved out freshman year, we had tried to have family dinner with everyone once a week. I learned quickly that I wouldn’t be able to realistically make that happen. School and baseball were too time-consuming, so we had switched it to once a month. Sometimes, I made it, but most of the time, they happened without me, much to my mom’s disappointment. I hated making her sad, but I could only do so much.

“Now that Coby’s gone, me and your uncle are outnumbered,” he said with a shake of his head. “There’re five of them, Chance. Five!” he added, and I laughed before realizing that he was right.

The two Carter households had officially been taken over by females … not that they hadn’t always run the show in the first place.

“Maybe I’ll just stay here,” I teased, and my dad growled. He literally fucking growled.

“Just get your ass home. And call your mother,” he demanded, and I gave him a head nod as he drove away.

I pulled my travel baseball bag across the driveway toward the front door. Nudging it open, I was immediately hit with a rush of air, and I realized that the sliding back door must be open. Laughter and cheers filled the otherwise quiet space, and I knew that whoever was here was out in the backyard. I tried my best to sneak into my room without anyone noticing.

Cole had made sure that I got his old bedroom before he moved out last year. It had its own bathroom and a lock on the door. Two things I desperately needed if I wanted to ensure any kind of privacy. Which I did.

It was my draft year, and it was hard enough in general to keep the girls away, but living in the baseball house was going to be even more challenging. Cole had known that, and that was why he made sure that I was the one who got this particular room, even when a senior on the team said it should be his simply based on seniority. He was one hundred percent right, but he thankfully backed down once he heard the reasons why I wanted it, and it didn’t cause a problem between us. The last thing I’d needed was to fight with a guy on my team over a fucking room.

“Hey, man,” Mac’s voice rang out as he walked through my door, a big grin on his face.

I stopped pulling things from my bags long enough to greet him.

“Hey. Good to see you,” I said as we clapped each other on the backs. “I was just wondering if you were here or not.”

“Everyone’s out back. I just got in,” Mac said. He was from Arizona and was one of the few guys on the team from out of state. “How was your summer? I saw your stats. You were on fire.” He grinned like he was so full of pride that he might burst.

I’d had a great summer at the plate and behind it. “Yeah. Aside from the usual bullshit, it was really good.”

Mac plopped down on my bed and bit into an apple I hadn’t even seen him holding. I wondered for a second if he’d pulled it out of his pocket