Page 112 of Mom Ball

“As usual when we practice here, I have some stations. When you’re at my station, we’ll work on what I think will help you most.” Nate points across the field. “Fly balls will be over there with the dads.”

Easton, Carlton, and Jim wave. I narrow my eyes to make sure I’m not seeing things. Nope. Jim is wearing a hard hat, and he doesn’t work at the mines. He’s a military recruiter. I hope the hat is in relation to recruiting for the army and not because he’s that cautious of fly balls.

Although, that would explain why his son ducks at anything flying overhead and why he wears a Harry Potter cape. Maybe I should suggest Reece join the homeschool co-op in Wisteria when our season ends. Some more outside influences besides his parents might do the boy good.

“Miss Brooke and Miss Aniston will help inside with the tee.” Nate hooks a thumb toward the building behind us. “Coach Morgan and Ethan will help toss grounders.” He emphasizes the word “toss” and gives Morgan a look.

She looks like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar. He’d mentioned last night he needed to talk to her about rolling the ball on purpose. I join Aniston across the yard and try not to laugh. Very few people attempt to correct Morgan, and even fewer people earn her allegiance to their ideas.

“Okay. You two go inside to Brooke and Aniston.” Nate taps Timothy and Carter on the arm. “I want Jack, Charlie, and Herrington with Morgan first.” They go to her. “Reece, you’ll start inside with me.” Nate tosses a ball back and forth in his hand. “The rest of you start with the Village People.”

The kids give him a blank stare. But the rest of us burst out laughing.

“Go to the dads.” Nate points to the field.

As the kids run that way, Easton lifts his hands as if asking why everyone is staring and laughing at them. He’s wearing a straw cowboy hat and boots while standing next to Jim. If only he knew, he’d rethink his grass-cutting wardrobe.

Nate turns to us. “I’ll have Morgan whistle when we want to swap stations.”

I’m not sure she heard him, since she’s still doubled over snorting at the Village People comment.

Aniston and I regain control more quickly and go inside to our station. We have our own kids first, for better or worse. I can’t decide as they correct us on how to put the ball on the tee. Both do pretty well, and Timothy announces what Nate told him to watch for with bad swing habits.

They’re pretty much practicing together. I honestly think we’re just warm bodies to keep the balls coming at a steady rate, which is fine by me.

Nate climbs in the other side of the batting cage with Reece. I listen as he holds a bat and explains how it works like Harry Potter’s wand. Weird, but when he tells Reece to cast a spell, the kid hits better than ever.

I’m in awe the rest of practice when Nate finds a way to personally motivate each kid on what he or she needs to work on. He even told Tami’s girls that if they do good on the field, he will get their mom to video them and make a TikTok. They liked that idea a little too much.

Thankfully, Timothy is more motivated by candy than the allure of becoming a social media star.

Practice runs smoothly with everyone rotating through each station and having their one-on-one time with Nate. Around six-twenty, we wrap things up with a quick prayer.

I hug and kiss Timothy, and he climbs in Aniston’s van. She was happy to let him spend the night so that Nate and I could stay out as long as we wanted. Then I hurry home to change into something a little nicer, and Nate does the same.

My hands are so shaky, I can barely touch up my mascara. Nate and I are going to eat in Tuscaloosa, just the two of us. So much of that makes me feel eighteen again.

And I love it. But not nearly as much as I love him.

CHAPTER 24

Nate

Typical for anyone living within an hour of a larger city, we spent half our drive to Tuscaloosa discussing where to eat. I suggested all the nicest restaurants I found on Google when I couldn’t sleep the other night.

Brooke never liked making final decisions, but she perked up when I mentioned Italian. I love that I can still read her expressions after all this time.

We ate at a nice little Italian place downtown, then walked to the coffee shop that opened not long after we graduated high school.

“It’s crowded tonight. Maybe we should go someplace else,” Brooke suggests.

I shake my head. “This is one of the few coffee places I like, and I have memories here with you.”

She smiles sweetly. I wrap my arm around her back and squeeze in line. I really am a sucker for nostalgia.

I scan the room, both surprised and content at how little it’s changed. There are a few extra photos on the wall, since Alabama has won several national championships since I’ve been here. They added a wall of coffee mugs and updated the card readers at the register. But that’s really all that’s changed.

I’d like to think the same for Brooke and me. We’re older and well into our careers, unlike before. She’s a mom, and I’m mulling over the decision to retire from ball every few months. More like every few hours since I reunited with her.

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