Free The Catching Kind by Caitie Quinn Page B

his younger fans. Obviously, it was something Connor took care to work against.
    The dad smiled then, with a quick glance over toward his wife, he lowered his voice and asked, "Do you think we could get a picture? I'm sure Jeremy would love it and the guys at work would get a kick out of it. We're all huge fans. We were even rooting for you when that thing went down with Ackerman's girlfriend a few..."
    Jeremy’s dad glanced my way, suddenly realizing it probably wasn't the best topic of conversation.
    "Oh, sorry about that." Connor rose and came around the table as I stood to say hello. "Guys, this is Hailey. We'd just started seeing each other then. Obviously you can see the Ackerman thing got blown way out of proportion."
    "This is your girlfriend?" Jeremy eyed me like there was a chance I was an Imperial Stormtrooper.
    Connor laid a hand on my shoulder. "Yup." 
    Now Jeremy’s dad was eyeing me too.
    "Isn't she a little short?” Only a child could say something like that as a fact instead of an attack. “All those pictures have you with really tall, skinny girls."
    It took everything in me to not blurt out, I am not fat . But I held it in and gave myself mental permission to have dessert as a reward for being polite to a seven-year-old boy.
    "Well, a lot of them were. But then I met Hailey. She's smarter, funnier, and more fun than those other girls. Plus, I think she's really pretty."
    I grinned. Even knowing it wasn't the truth, it was nice to be upgraded to pretty.
    "Does she play ball?"
    "Nope. She tells stories."
    "Like lies?"
    I love children. He was on the younger side and I really did envy their ability—and willingness—to ask anything.
    "No. Like fairy tales...or horror stories. Depends on how you look at it." Connor winked at me, letting me in on the joke about my own happy, romance'y books.
    "Did you want me to take the picture?” I asked, trying to get the attention off me. “That way you can all be in it."
    The dad looked so excited he didn't have to figure out how to ask, that I thought he was going to hug me. Connor seemed a pro at this too. He angled everyone so they'd be tight in the picture and wouldn't look awkward with the height difference. Then he asked to take one just him and his buddy, Jeremy . 
    You would have thought by the time the father and son headed back to their table they'd been doing Connor a favor.
    I watched him over the candle flickering on our table, trying to add one more piece to the Connor puzzle.
    "You're really good at that."
    "At the pictures? My agent made me take a class."
    Oooookay, but no.
    "I actually meant the whole thing. The kid. The dad. Keeping them on track and comfortable and then sending them on their way. You let Jeremy teach you about how to be a catcher as if you were going to try it out in your next game."
    "Well, no matter what they tell you, baseball is about the fans. We make a ridiculous amount of money to get to do something we love. A team keeps you if you're really good or if you're good enough but their fans love you. You don't see a lot of guys get traded if they're hometown favorites." 
    That didn't sound like your typical jock reasoning.
    "Then why were you traded?"
    Oh. Wait. That didn’t come out right. 
    “Sorry. I meant…well, after seeing you in action, I’m surprised you were traded.”
    "Yeah.” He shook out his napkin, his gaze sliding away. “I was."
    I felt horrible. I’m not sure where I went wrong. He’s supposed to be one of the top players in the league, but… “I thought you were really good." 
    "I was young and stupid when I joined my last team. I burnt a lot of bridges. When I got hurt last season and the doctors reported I could be 100-percent or I could stay at half-power, management wasn’t willing to risk it."
    “How’d you get hurt?” I really didn’t want him to tell me he was doing something else reputation-damaging. But, any way you looked at it, hurt was hurt. And hurt was a career killer for