Page 41 of Mom Ball

“Yes!” He smiles and hops on.

I knew that would encourage him to leave.

I climb on behind him and ignore how his hair matches his daddy’s and how Nate used to drive this thing. Nate takes a step toward us, and I nudge Timothy to drive ahead.

“Bye, Nate,” I say swiftly before he can continue a conversation.

Then we drive toward the apple trees and away from the forbidden fruit.

* * *

Nate

Morgan called me this morning about practice. I’d have much preferred Brooke call me, but we’re not there yet.

At least after Morgan’s rant about Jeffrey screwing her over again and then attempting to butter my ego about how much I helped, I got to ask something.

“Is Brooke involved with someone?”

She laughed until she was out of breath, then assured me that was a big NO.

That was all it took for me to agree to run practice here, however she wanted. Now I’m setting up stations and eagerly awaiting Brooke’s arrival.

I should say the team’s arrival, but who am I kidding?

I hear cars outside and open the large rolling door. I told Morgan everyone could park in my backyard instead of by the road.

A few days after we moved Mom’s trailer to the back of the property, I had a pathway graveled from the front of my house to hers. As much trouble as Jeffrey had moving the trailer down the hill, I knew I needed to do something.

The first person to get out is the woman who carries a golf bag. Her son follows with the bag. Next is the woman with twins and the kid who kept picking his nose.

I make it a point to learn some names tonight. If I’m going to continue helping these kids, I can’t call them Quidditch and Booger Boy.

Brooke’s car crawls down the new drive, and everything else disappears from my sight. I’m laser focused on her as if I’m staring at the batter from the pitcher’s mound. The crowd and noise around me no longer exist.

She parks and climbs out, and I savor the sight of her bare left ring finger.

“Charlie, cut it out!”

That noise breaks through my wall of focus. I turn to the woman with twins yelling toward the edge of my shop. One of her kids is peeing on an ant bed by the doorway.

I bite back a laugh and walk away.

It doesn’t take long for Morgan to find me. “Hey, Nate. I told the parents what kind of bats were legal for this age, so maybe they won’t show up with random crap today.” She cranes her neck, then looks back at me with a snarl. “Except for Reece wearing that stupid cape.”

“I have a plan to hopefully get him out of that.” I give Morgan a reassuring smile and commit the name Reece to memory.

“Oh, and Brooke’s looking nice tonight, huh?” Morgan elbows my bad arm and I let out a little grunt.

“I asked about her status to see if Timothy had a dad around.”

“We all know that’s an entirely different deal.” She winks. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

I open my mouth to refute her theory—even though it’s dead right—when someone taps my shoulder. I turn to the woman who goes with Quid—uh, Reece—standing behind me.

“I appreciate you letting our kids practice here. Reece is allergic to outside.”

My eyes widen, and Morgan snorts.

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