Page 50 of Mom Ball

I grit my teeth.

“I understand you don’t want to show pain, but if you go back to normal too soon, it could make matters worse.”

I nod. “Good point. I’ll talk with him.”

“Be smart and safe, and I’m confident you’ll make a full recovery.” He extends a hand, and I shake it.

The words “full recovery” are music to my ear. However, I can’t get the kids’ game out of my mind. As soon as I’m in my truck, I pull out my phone. When I unlock the screen, it’s still on Facebook. As suspected, nothing about the game.

I toss my phone on the dash of my truck. My stomach sours at the memory of Brooke riding with me when I first moved to Atlanta. It’s a miracle my old truck made it here. Even more of a miracle that it survived my spontaneous trip to visit her on a bad tank of gas.

That was the last time I saw her in person while we were still together.

We’d talked and texted and video chatted plenty the next few weeks. Each time, she acted a little more distant. I assumed it was because she was busy adjusting to college and new classes. Add to that a weird roommate with a very fast lizard, and I’d feel out of whack too.

What I didn’t expect was when I wanted to plan a weekend together and she broke up with me instead. All I could get out of her was how our lives were going in different directions and it was for the best. I could hear her crying on the phone.

All I wanted was to hold her and assure her we could make it work. I never got the chance.

* * *

Brooke

The pastor asks everyone to stand for the invitational song. I turn my head to hide a yawn and spot Nate across the church. He grins at me. I straighten and turn toward the front. It was an innocent grin. Definitely one fit for church.

But it didn’t keep my mind in a churchy spot.

I’m daydreaming about everyone but us disappearing and him dipping me over a pew for the best kiss of my life. Nothing more, just a great kiss.

Still, not the best idea in a Baptist church during Sunday service.

“The Old Rugged Cross” plays in the background. I focus on that, which helps. No romantic vibes there.

Soon the song ends and the preacher closes us in prayer. I bow my head and keep my eyes closed until the final “amen.”

I barely have my head raised when Timothy plunges past me, smooshing my legs against the pew. “Watch out, son.”

I turn around to Mama shaking her head. She was on the other side of him before he darted away.

“Where’s he going?” I ask. Craning my neck while in chunky sandals still doesn’t give me a good view of him as he meanders through adults.

“Don’t worry, he went to Nate.”

Of course he did.

Not that it’s a bad thing for him to be with Nate. But it means I will have to be with Nate to retrieve him. God, please don’t let him give me that grin again.

That’s probably the most sincere silent prayer I’ve lifted up in this church.

We take our time shuffling into the bottlenecked aisle. Daddy gets lost in the crowd when someone engages him in a tractor conversation. Mama slows down next when someone asks her about pies.

I continue alone, wishing for once my brothers still sat on the family pew. Facing Nate with no allies makes me even more vulnerable to his attack.

Timothy has him cornered by the wall.

“Hey,” Nate says when I make it to them.

Timothy turns around to acknowledge my presence for a split second before continuing to blab to Nate. We make eye contact for a moment over his head.

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