Page 113 of Mom Ball

Still, we’re the same people and have the same feelings for one another.

When we get to the register, the barista grins and wags a finger at me. I stare at his hand, wondering what I’ve done wrong.

“You’re Nate Miller, aren’t you?”

“I am.” I clear my throat. “You look familiar too.”

I’m not just making conversation. He does look familiar.

“I’ve worked here for almost nine years. Finally saved enough to buy the place.”

I turn to Brooke, and we smile.

“You want fries with that?” we say in unison.

I face him again, and he laughs, clearly not remembering.

“We don’t have fries, but we have some pastries.”

I chuckle. “Chocolate coffee is fine.”

Brooke orders a vanilla cold brew, as I assumed she would. She always favored vanilla over chocolate and got hooked on cold coffee our last summer together when it was so hot.

I take out my card, but he waves it away. “On the house, man. It’s rare we get to serve an MLB player.”

I try again, but he stops my hand and slides a card from his pocket to cover the cost.

“Thanks, that’s generous.” I nod, and we move aside for others to order.

It’s so crowded that we can’t find a table. But that forces us outside, and we take a stroll by the river. The sun is setting behind the trees, and the weather is just right.

I take Brooke’s free hand in mine and exhale. It doesn’t get much more relaxing than this. Why Ace prefers playing pool and dancing with random women over walking with someone like Brooke is insane.

“How crazy is it that ‘fries with that’ guy owns The Coffee Loft now?” Brooke’s eyes widen as she turns to me.

“I’m actually not that surprised.”

“Really?” She does that cute thing where she wrinkles her nose.

“Would you have ever thought I’d have started as a pitcher for the Braves?”

“Yes.” She smirks.

I kiss her on the cheek. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but aside from you and my mom, I’m not sure anyone else had that much faith in me.”

We walk in silence a moment. The sun lowers enough for streetlamps to glow faintly. We’re getting close to my truck, so I slow the pace. Brooke sips her drink, then speaks.

“I never questioned your talent or drive. That’s why I removed myself from the situation so you wouldn’t have anything holding you back. If you weren’t going to make it, it wouldn’t have been because of me.”

I chug my coffee, glad it’s no longer steaming hot. We talked briefly about the breakup on our first date. She mentioned how she didn’t want to hold me back. I managed to keep the conversation light and assure her that wouldn’t have happened, mainly through kisses. If she gets on a tangent again, I’ll have to kiss her right here on the walking trail.

I’m not a fan of rehashing the past. What good will that do?

“Brooke.” I squeeze her hand in mine. “Please stop saying you would hold me back. I don’t like it when you put that on me, making assumptions I would’ve quit ball if we stayed together. I never wanted to choose between you and ball.”

She stops walking, pulling me to a halt. We turn toward one another.

“I know,” she whispers.

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