Comeback (The Holland Brothers Book 3)

Holland Brothers

The four of us travel to Chicago to watch Flynn. We file into the row to our seats before the game starts.

“There’s Flynn,” Knox says, pointing down by the dugout. He’s starting tonight. His first major league start.

I try to think back to my first game with the Mavericks. I was injured at the start of the season, so I stood on the sidelines for a while before I ever got to step onto the field during regulation.

But this is huge for Flynn. He’s the youngest starting pitcher in Twins history, and to be brought up during such a crucial time is any young player’s dream.

The weight of it has us all nervous as we sit down. Brogan is eating his feelings with two hot dogs, nachos, a pretzel, and a giant beer. Knox has a scowl on his face as he stares down at the field like he can control everything if he just stares hard enough. Hendrick is all smiles. I think it’s the distance from his own professional football career that lets him look back with rose-colored glasses. I don’t think he’s forgotten the nerves and pressure, but he’s far enough removed now that he remembers all the good things more.

We stand for the national anthem. The Twins are in Chicago tonight, so they don’t get the same applause as the White Sox, but at the bottom of the first inning, the four of us yell loud enough to make up for it when Flynn takes the mound.

“Oh fuck, I’m going to throw up,” Brogan says, holding his stomach.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Knox snorts, looking more like his usual self before the worried mask returns. He claps his hands together twice and says so quietly I barely hear it, “Let’s go, little brother.”

I sit forward in my seat and hold my breath as he winds up and throws the first pitch. The umpire calls the strike, and we are on our feet like he just hit a grand slam home run. We get more than a few looks of amusement, a couple of glares, but we ignore everything except Flynn down on the mound.

He throws two more strikes and the first batter heads back to the bench. We are on our feet again.

“Flynn the Flaaaaaame!” Brogan yells, then he turns to Knox. “You might be right. Flynn the Rocket?” He shakes his head without waiting for anyone else to chime in. “It’ll come to me.”

The people around us start to send us side-glances as Brogan starts trying out different names.

“That’s our little brother,” I tell them, then join in with Brogan, cupping my hands around my mouth and yelling, “Flynn Holland the Fastest Pitcher Allliiiive.”

“No,” Knox says and signs immediately.

After that, the crowd—at least the small group around us—is a little less hostile. A few people even join in. Flynn strikes out his first two batters, and the third hits a grounder that the second baseman easily scoops up and tosses him out at first.

The jumbotron follows Flynn as he jogs off the field to the dugout. He’s got this serious expression on his face that reminds me of Knox, but one of his teammates hits the bill of his cap and a hint of a grin appears, turning him back into my playful younger brother.

Hendrick and I breathe a sigh of relief, Knox’s face softens slightly, and Brogan stops eating.

The latter looks to me as we relax into our seats. “Fifty bucks says he ends the night giving up less than four runs.”

That would be a phenomenal game for any player, let alone a rookie. “You’re on.”

“No.” Hendrick frowns at us. So much for his relief. “You cannot bet on Flynn.”

“Oh, like he wouldn’t do it to all of us.” Knox cracks a small smile. “Seventy-five he only gives up one.”

For the next few innings, we are glued to the field every time Flynn takes the mound. He’s dialed in. Untouchable. Throwing at speeds that has even the home crowd rooting.

“Well, there goes my legacy as the most popular Holland.” Brogan throws a hand up like he’s annoyed, but he’s grinning.

“That was always debatable,” I say.

“Just because my sister likes you possibly more than me, doesn’t mean the rest of the world agrees.”

I hadn’t mentioned Sabrina to Knox or Hendrick yet, but they don’t miss a beat.

“You and the secret sister?” Knox asks first. Hendrick stares my way with interest too.

Flynn strikes out another batter and the inning ends with groans from the crowd.

“Atta boy, Flynn,” I yell, then take a sip of my beer. When I’m done, my brothers are still waiting for an answer.

“We’re hanging out,” I say.

“She’s your roommate. Of course you’re hanging out,” Knox says dryly, but then a hint of a smile tugs up one corner of his mouth.

I roll my eyes. “We’re hanging out at places that aren’t the apartment.”

“They’re fucking,” Brogan chirps.

I give him a side-eye glare.

“What?” He shrugs both shoulders. “You are.”

“Dude. She’s your sister,” Hendrick says to him. “Isn’t that weird to say?”

“Weirder to say out loud than I thought it would be.” He grimaces.

“That’s definitely payback for all the times you and London have made me glad I can’t hear shit,” I say to him.

Knox laughs. He’s relaxing a little more with each inning.

“Sabrina’s cool. We’ve gone out a few times and I like her.” I lean closer to Brogan. “And she definitely likes me better than you.”

“Fuck off.” Brogan pushes my shoulder.

“Good for you.” Knox tips his head to me. “Glad that the dry spell is over.”

“I was not in a dry spell.”

He and Brogan laugh. Fuckers.

“I hate to be that guy, but what if it doesn’t work out?” Hendrick cocks one brow. “Won’t it be awkward? She’s his sister and you two have been inseparable since middle school.”

“Then it doesn’t work out,” I say, though even just thinking about it makes me frown.

“You can’t be naïve to think it’d be that simple,” Hendrick adds.

Brogan considers it for a second. “Sabrina’s pretty chill. I don’t think she’ll hold it against me just because he fucked it up.”

Hendrick doesn’t look convinced, but he goes back to watching the game.

“I am not going to fuck it up,” I say to Brogan.

He laughs. “You really like her, huh?”

“Yeah. I really do. I told you that.” Sabrina and I went out twice this week. I took her out to dinner Tuesday night and we closed the place down. Last night she had to work at Lilac, so I stopped by the studio after practice, and we went to Home Depot to pick up some things she needed. I wouldn’t have called it a date, but Sabrina said it counted since we kissed in the middle of the trim aisle and in the truck. And in the studio.

“I know, but guys say crazy shit before they sleep with a girl. Especially when they’ve been going through a dry spell.”

I rub at my forehead with two fingers. “For the last time, I was not in a dry spell.”

“Good because I wanted to run something by you.”

“What’s that?” I ask, signing too because the music is pumping loudly. I think the White Sox’s media team is making a last-ditch effort to get the crowd riled up in hopes it boosts the players.

“You should bring her to the silent auction next week.”

“The fundraiser at Coach’s house?” I ask, making a face. I’m not an asshole. I don’t dislike the concept of fundraisers and community service, but the formal events are so boring. It’s a lot of polite conversation and handshaking and drinking beer out of a tall glass, so it seems more respectable.

The invite to Coach’s house was optional but highly recommended via Anthony, the Mavericks head of PR.

“It’ll be fun. London and I are going. She’s picked out a dress and shoes and…Just ask her. She’ll be into it, and I wanted to bring her, but I only got a plus one.”

I chuckle. “There it is.”

“What? Like you were going to ask anyone else.”

“I wasn’t going at all, so…”

One of Flynn’s teammates hits a grand slam and the crowd quiets as the Twins players file out to home plate to celebrate.

“Fuck. He might actually do it.” Hendrick leans forward.

Flynn glances up at the stands as he walks back to the dugout. I know he can’t see us, but I swear he looks right at us.

Hendrick is right. He could actually pull off a win for the Twins and give up less than two runs all on his first start. My chest swells with pride.

Flynn and I have always been close. Not in the same way as him and Knox. Knox was like a dad to him, always looking out for him and making sure he, and all the rest of us, had what we needed. I’m grateful for that because it let me have a relationship with him that’s just fun, teasing, all the things you’d expect from a big brother. He used to tag along behind me and Brogan, tossing the football around with us or playing video games. As he got older, he became more introverted and moody. Typical teenager things, I guess, but I’ve missed the hell out of him since he moved away.

When we were growing up, all under one small roof, I probably wished for more space and privacy, but those days were good despite everything with our mom passing and Dad flaking out on us. And as I glance around at myself, Brogan, Knox, and Hendrick sitting together watching Flynn play, it’s just like when we were all together watching Flynn play high school ball.

I’ve missed this. While I’m lost in my thoughts and feeling grateful, I spot a familiar face a section over, one row down. We make eye contact, and I just stare for a moment, thinking there’s no way I could be seeing right.

The man looks away and I nudge Brogan.

“Our dad is here.” I tip my head in that direction.

He finds him and then passes it along.

“I knew he was coming,” Knox says when Hendrick points him out. “He’s been at every single one of Flynn’s games the past two years.”

“He went to his college games?”

“Yeah.” Knox nods. “He was living there for a while and I guess when Flynn left, so did he.”

“Woah.” Brogan’s eyes go wide as he waits for my reaction. Judging by the look on Hendrick’s face, he already knew.

Knox must pick up on the tension because he looks right at me. “I wasn’t sure if Flynn had told you.”

“No. He never mentioned it.”

“He probably thought you’d give him some speech on not trusting Dad.”

“And you didn’t give him that speech?”

“I made peace with the fact Flynn wants a relationship with him.”

I bite back on my molars. He might have, but I haven’t. It’s not that I think our dad is all evil or something. He’s just a deadbeat. Has been my whole life. All our lives. And yeah, I guess I’m a little pissy that Dad seems to have gotten his act together for Flynn when he couldn’t do that for the rest of us.

After the game, we file down to the lower level to wait for Flynn. He told us to meet him here, but it’s been more than twenty minutes since he said he was on his way.

“Maybe he had to get on the bus,” Hendrick says, checking his watch again.

“He’ll be here,” Knox assures us.

A few seconds later, a group of women squeal in the distance and Flynn appears, parting them down the middle and giving them a quick nod of his head and a sly grin. He saunters toward us, cocky and all swagger.

“Fuck me sideways.” Brogan chuckles.

Flynn looks nothing like the shy kid I saw earlier this summer.

“Hey.” He drops his duffel to the ground.

We all just stare at him.

“Are you going to hug me or what?” Flynn asks. He holds his arms out to his sides and Knox steps forward.

Brogan is next.

“Baby Holland.” He ruffles his hair. “That’s better.”

“Flynn the Flame.” Hendrick hugs him tight and tries to pick him up off the ground, but Flynn’s now the tallest of us so it doesn’t really work like it did when he was younger.

When it’s my turn, I can barely believe my eyes. He looks like my baby brother, but he’s all grown up. He’s like some weird mash-up of Brogan’s playfulness with Knox’s arrogance and Hendrick’s height. He’s grown up. I still feel a protectiveness over him but maybe he doesn’t need it anymore.

“That was unbelievable,” I say as I embrace him. “You cost me seventy-five dollars.”

“Betting against me?” He squeezes the back of my neck with one hand and wraps the other one around me.

“Never.”

“Ahh. I’m so glad you guys were here.” His excitement is splashed all over his features. From his big, goofy smile to the way he keeps talking, when in the past he would have fallen silent instead. “I thought I could hear you at one point in the bottom of the third when I threw that change-up.”

“You were hearing Knox about to kick some Chicago fan’s ass for razzing you,” Brogan says.

“Eh. It doesn’t faze me. It means I’m doing my job. If the other team starts clapping for me, then I know I’m screwed.”

“Back to Minnesota for the next game, huh?” Hendrick asks.

“Yeah. I know you won’t be able to make it, but if we win it looks like we’ll be in Kansas City for the next series.”

“We’ll be there,” Knox says. He glances at the rest of us.

“Yeah.” I nod. “Unless we have a team conflict, Brogan and I are there.”

“Awesome. Well, I should get going before the bus leaves me behind.” Flynn steps forward and we all hug him at once.

As he walks off, we stare after him. When he gets about ten feet away, he turns back and lifts one hand in a wave.