Page 76 of A Whole New Play

She pats my shoulder. “You need to hear it, Carter. It’s called tough love.”

“Well thank God I have you,” I deadpan.

She nods seriously. “I agree.”

Before I can come up with a retort to take her down a peg or two, Morgan shuffles past me and slides down the front row, past Dad and the twins, settling between my mom and sister. Carlee’s knees bounce up and down with nervous energy as she waits to see if her boyfriend’s team will have what it takes to win the game this evening and become world champions.

I’m shaking my head at the ball-buster brunette’s remarks and my sister’s anxious display when I feel someone’s gaze on me. My eyes shift and see Valerie’s deep green eyes locked on me from where she sits in the second row. For the tenth time today, I silently admire how pretty she looks in the Lonestars’ royal blue t-shirt. Not as pretty as when she wears Rough Rider red, but it’s still an attractive color. I smile softly at her.

Instead of returning my smile, Valerie’s eyes dart away. Her lips are pressed in a firm line.

Weird.

I school my features and retake my seat beside her, shivering as a crisp breeze blows by.

“Here you go, Andy.” I lean forward and hand my son his drink.

“Thanks, Dad!” He beams. He slurps the drink aggressively, earning an eye roll from his sister who delicately sips from her water bottle.

Abby and Andy wear matching baseball jerseys gifted to them by Corey. My childhood best friend has always been a sort of uncle figure to them, at least in stories, but since he’s moved back to Texas, he become a consistent figure in their lives.

And while Corey isn’t one to openly share his emotions, it’s obvious he loves my kids. I’m glad they have their Uncle Corey around. And I strongly suspect he’ll be a legit uncle soon enough.

“Excited for the game?” I ask Valerie innocuously, all too aware that though a chattering crowd surrounds us, our conversation will be easily overheard by those seated nearby.

“Yes.”

I wait for her to say more—or to at least look at me—but Valerie keeps her attention on the players warming up on the baseball field without saying another word.

I frown. She seems upset, but I can’t think of a reason why. I’ve hardly spoken to her since we left Dallas.

In my experience, giving a woman space is the safest course of action when you don’t know why she is upset. It was certainly the best way to avoid being on the receiving end of my sister’s anger whenever she wasn’t in a good mood when we were kids.

Abby’s laughter draws my attention to the row in front of me. She and Andy are sandwiched between Mom and Dad, babbling excitedly about school. They have a science fair coming up, and Abby is sharing different ideas for her project.

I’m not sure where Abby got her love for learning. I wasn’t the worst student in school, but I cared about athletics more than my classes. And from what I witnessed of Laura’s collegiate career, academics weren’t her specialty, either. It’s fun to see my daughter so excited about a school event at her age. I didn’t even know science fairs were a thing in elementary school, let alone that a kid of mine would be interested in participating.

“Those ideas all sound cool, Abby,” Carlee leans over and joins in the kids’ conversation with their grandparents. “Which one is your favorite?”

Abby pinches her lips together, looking serious as she mulls over her aunt’s question. “I saw a potato power a flashlight on a cartoon the other morning. I think I’d want to do that.”

Is that even real? I thought it was a joke.

I make a note to search the internet to see if potato electricity is possible. If Abby asks me to help with her project, I want to be prepared.

“You go girl,” Morgan jumps into the conversation too, holding out her fist to my daughter. “Show those Rose Hill teachers that a Jones kid can excel in school when they put their mind to it.”

“Hey!”

“Yeah, hey!” I second Carlee’s protest.

Abby chuckles as she fist-bumps Morgan. My parents, also, laugh.

“Sorry guys,” Morgan replies, not sounding apologetic at all. “I love you both, but neither of you were in the running for valedictorian.”

“I was a great student,” Carlee clips.

“And I was adequate,” I add with a rueful grin.

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