Page 131 of Mom Ball

I jerk my head toward the open door. Timothy’s voice calls from downstairs, “Did you find it? We need to leave.”

“Yep, coming!” I yell back.

I shake my head to try and shake the shock and dash toward the dresser. A minute later, I’m jogging downstairs with the penny.

But all I can think about is the plate I gave him the last time we were together.

CHAPTER 28

Nate

“Miller, get off the phone. We need you to warm up.”

I shove my phone in my bag and out of the way. Easton promised to put the kids’ game on Game Changer for me.

This is Timothy’s final tournament for the park-ball championship. If I can’t be there, I at least want to keep up with it best I can.

“What’s going on?” my pitching coach asks.

“Nothing.”

I shrug off the questions and head toward the pen. My arm has been on fire this week—in a good way. I’ve been throwing sick pitches and it’s barely bothered my shoulder.

“Nate the Great!”

I turn toward the seats and find a little boy rushing toward the barrier. An older woman comes behind him, trying to keep up. He’s barely above the wall, but reaches a souvenir ball over. “Can you sign this?”

“Of course.” I take the ball and smile. “Uh, do you have a pen?”

“Here.” The woman hands a marker to me.

I scribble my signature. “What’s your name, son?”

“John.”

I write “To John” more legibly above my name. Then I blow on the ball to dry out the marker before handing it back.

“Thanks.” He lifts his head and smiles, showing a few missing teeth.

“Thank you so much.” The woman presses her lips together sweetly.

“You’re welcome, ma’am. I hope y’all enjoy the game.”

She nods and takes the kid’s arm as they walk away. Most likely to keep him from venturing off too far ahead.

I remove my cap and run my hand over my hair. Now that I know Timothy is mine, I can’t stop thinking about him, or missing him. I miss Brooke even more too, knowing we created this precious person together.

Aaron walks by, popping his knuckles. He bumps me slightly with his shoulder. I know it’s intentional. I choose not to say anything and let him keep walking. I’m starting, so nothing he can say matters much now.

He’s just as good as me, if not better. A small part of me wonders if the coaches aren’t rewarding me for coming back from an injury. Even worse, if they’re throwing me a bone since this might be my last time to shine above him.

I puff up my cheeks and blow into my hands. I’m starting in the opening game. I had to claw my way off the injured list.

But all I can think about is a Little League game. I stare at the time on the scoreboard. Timothy’s game is just starting. A lot of good that does me when my phone is out of reach.

I continue to the bullpen and begin warming up. I hear the announcer give out the starting lineups. My pulse ticks higher when my name is called and the crowd cheers, but I try to keep my focus. Fireworks shoot around us with every name announced.

I take a pause while the National Anthem is sung with a giant flag flying in the background. I hold my cap across my chest but only half hear the song. Everything is a blur against the adrenaline of soon taking the mound and everything waiting for me back in Apple Cart.

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