I flip through my keys until I land on the silver square one and shove it into the lock on my wooden door. I glance around to make sure nobody has followed me before opening it. Two months ago the paparazzi found out where my new apartment building was located and they followed me into the building, but thankfully my building security stepped in and issued new rules, no longer allowing them access into the building. Still, it doesn't hurt to survey your surroundings.

I used to love the attention in college from media outlets, coaches, girls, and fans, but recently I've missed my privacy. I avoid looking my name up online because most of the 'news' is straight lies about my dating life, substance abuse, and how I'm playing. While I was honored to be the National League Rookie of the Year and the National League MVP the last two years, I don't like the publicity that comes with it.

I throw my baseball bag on the floor and roll my suitcase into the living room before taking in the view. My more than generous salary allowed me to purchase the penthouse overlooking the San Francisco Bay and the view is something that never gets old. Hardwood floors with a cherry oak stain cover the 1,700 square foot place complete with granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and grey walls. Adrianna swears the contemporary color scheme would soothe me during the grueling season as if I give a fuck if my walls matched the window panes.

I walk over to my refrigerator and peer inside, wondering if she stocked up on food for me while I was away and I'm met with with a variety of colors. Fruits and vegetables are overflowing the bottom drawers while my protein milk is on the top shelf next to a 12-pack of strawberry banana yogurt. Fresh chicken, waiting to be marinated, sits on the middle shelf next to a pack of turkey and mozzarella cheese.

Grinning, I grab a slice of mini cheesecake she pushed to the back and make my way to the couch.

Stretching out my legs across the couch, I flip on the TV looking for anything to take my mind off our upcoming series tonight. We're about a quarter of the way through the season, but the Dodgers series is always more personal since we're in-state rivals.

Glancing at my phone, I sigh seeing I only have about three hours until I have to be back at the stadium to catch the team flight again. I knew baseball was a grind but the majors is different from any other level. A severe thunderstorm in New York delayed our flight until the wee hours of this morning, making me jet lagged. My hitting coach is resting me tonight before our series against the Rockies, a division rival that actually matters.

I scroll through messages from my teammates, Adrianna, and my dad, before opening my mom's. Her standard "great game, I love watching you play. Travel safe" is waiting for me. Smiling I reply back to her that I'm home and can't wait to see her soon. She currently lives in Georgia with Frank, my step-dad, and her rambunctious German Shepard, Rocco.

I can't say my father was exactly thrilled when my mom reappeared in my life, but I was. It has been over ten years since I last spoke with her, let alone saw her, but I was willing to hear her out and give her another chance. Everyone deserves a second chance.

Her support of my career is different from my father's, it's all "you did your best," or "today wasn't your day but tomorrow can be." Positivity and reassurance was always her go to and it was a nice change from "what the fuck were you doing out there," or "nobody will want you in free agency for missing that ground ball".

I flip through a few shows settling on the sports channel to watch highlights of games around the league. Once I get bored of that after about twenty minutes, I change out my clothes from the suitcase and finish a few household chores. Before I know it, it's noon and I'm headed for the door again.

Only this time, I'm excited to hit the road. It's the same excitement and nerves I feel every time we're headed to LA.

I'll finally be in the same place as my heart.