Page 3 of Mom Ball

The three of us walk toward the gate. Both boys climb the fence effortlessly, then wait as I take my time on each rung to avoid a wardrobe malfunction. I’m facing the field, stepping down, when I hear Andrew chattering wildly to the other boys.

“He got our ball, and he said he’d show me how to pitch.”

“Cool, could you help me with my curve?” Ethan asks.

“Sure. You look like you’ve got a strong arm, young man.”

I freeze on the bottom rail. That voice travels from my ears to my toes, making my entire body shake. I’d know it anywhere. It’s the same voice that promised me the world years earlier. The voice I haven’t heard in person since our last night together. The night I gained the child who would become my world.

* * *

Nate

“Are you stuck?” One of the boys turns back to the fence.

A woman in a bathrobe wiggles her foot but doesn’t answer.

I cross the gravel road and stand a few feet behind her. “Need help, ma’am?”

She bends at the waist, poking her butt toward me. I blink as she dislodges a flip-flop from the fence.

Not knowing what to say, I take a half step closer in case she falls. She straightens and spins around, then jumps when she notices me.

“Brooke?”

My heart speeds up and the blood drains from my face. I’m likely as pale as she is, wearing some kind of paint on her face. Even with that, I’d recognize her anywhere.

“You know my mom?”

I jerk my head to the kid who asked if she was stuck. “That’s your mother?”

A million questions race through my mind as I turn back to Brooke in slow motion. Most importantly, why wouldn’t anyone mention to me that my ex-girlfriend has a kid?

Does she also have a husband? Does she still live here, or is she visiting family?

Granted, I never asked Mom about Brooke after she ghosted me in college. Still, you’d think her name might come up in conversation. I have a bad habit of glazing over when she spills useless Apple Cart gossip. However, Brooke’s name would’ve caught—and held—my attention.

“Hi.” Her voice is low and strained.

“Hey,” I manage to say. “Let’s get you out of the weeds.”

Without thinking, I take her hand. Her fingers curl, but start to loosen as I lead her across the tall grass. By the time we reach my side of the road, her grip is relaxed in mine.

The smallness and soft touch of her hand against my larger calloused one sends a rush of warmth through my body. It’s way too familiar and brings up emotions I’m not ready to battle.

I drop her hand like a bad habit.

A habit I’d love to pick back up.

It’s hard to tell with all that paste on her face, but I think she’s blushing.

“Thanks,” she half whispers. She dips her head, then turns to her son.

Her son. I’m still in shock that nobody told me. That’s possibly the first secret ever kept in this county.

“Ready to go back home?” she asks.

The boy stares at me a few seconds. “This man said he would help us with baseball.”

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