Page 38 of Stealing Home

Griffin squeezes in the office, with his phone to his ear. He holds a hand out to Liam, encouraging him to back off.

“Yes, Mr. Montgomery,” he says into the phone.

My jaw drops open. I look at Wren and mouth, “He knows the mayor?”

She nods, her eyes still watching the door behind the cop. I feel sick that me being here has brought this drama to them. Their kids could have been here. Fifteen or twenty minutes later and they would have been. Which reminds me that they’re waiting alone at school right now, because of me.

“Wren, the kids—“

She shakes her head. “I already texted my aunt Hattie. She’s going to get them and bring them home with her. It’s okay. We all have each other’s backs in this family, and that includes you.”

I bob my head slowly. My eyes fill with tears, making everything swim in front of me, but I quickly blink them away.

“Of course Mayor, sign us up for a table. Thank you for listening about… Officer Dietrich,” he says, making a big display of looking at the cop’s name tag.

The radio on his shoulder starts squawking. He angrily grabs the handset at his shoulder and responds. As he turns to leave, Griffin speaks up. “You might think that intimidating a woman will be overlooked, even praised, because her husband has some celebrity status in this town, but don’t underestimate the pull others might have. Like, restoring a vintage mustang that the mayor used to work on with his father for example. Now get the fuck out of my garage and take that human shit stain with you. And if you ever try and intimidate a member of my family again, I’ll be using my seat at that table to fill the mayor in on the need to overhaul our Police Department.”

Officer Dietrich clenches his jaw, but he does guide Nando out of the garage.

By the time he leaves I’m trembling so hard my teeth are chattering. I’m too much, caring about me, being around me, it’s too much. They’ll see it, and I’ll be alone again.

Voices buzz around me, but they fade into the background. My head swims, and I think maybe if I close my eyes everything will stop. The pain, the hopelessness, it will all just go away. Maybe this tightness in my chest will ease, and I’ll be able to breathe.

14

Scott

I takethe mound to throw some practice pitches to Taylor while some of the other guys run other drills. It’s the usual set up, until a bike messenger rolls up to the field and pulls a large manilla envelope out of his backpack. Coach still hasn’t joined us, and I see one of the assistant coaches point in the direction of the locker room where his office is located.

No one else senses that something big is about to go down, but then again, no one else knows the coach is about to get served with divorce papers.

“Are you just going to stand there watching the locker room, or are you going to bring the heat? Those pitches felt off man. My hand doesn’t sting at all,” Taylor busts my balls.

A few minutes later there’s shouting coming from where the messenger disappeared to. Coach comes barreling out of the building, keys in hand, and peels out of the parking lot. There’s probably a quarter inch of rubber left on the pavement from his tires.

I want to call and give Harlow a heads up like before, but my phone is in my locker, and I’ll get my ass handed to me by the pitching coach if I walk off the field. At least she is at the garage. I know they are looking out for her.

After the first hour of practice, Coach still hasn’t returned. I can tell the rest of the coaching staff is wondering what is going on, and practice starts to devolve into a bunch of guys lazily tossing a ball back and forth and bullshitting.

Coach Tucker blows his whistle. “Coach Rivera had something come up, and since he wanted to work on some new plays, we’re going to go ahead and release you all early today.”

The guys whoop and start running for the locker room. Normally, I’d bitch about their work ethic. We’re here to play a fucking game, and sometimes these assholes act like they’re being asked to write out calculus equations. Considering I want to go and check on Harlow, I can’t really say anything.

I rush through a shower and get dressed before I check my phone. There’s no missed calls or texts waiting for me, but I still can’t shake the feeling that something is off. I throw my stuff in my bag and hurry out to the truck.

“Wait up, man. Damn, where’s the fire?” Taylor complains as he runs after me.

Right, I drove us here. I force myself to stop and wait for him to catch up.

“What is going on with you lately? First with bitching at me about the parties, then these disappearing acts you’ve been pulling. It’s not like you to be so moody,” he grumbles.

“I’ve just got a lot going on. Hurry up, because I’ve got a stop to make,” I tell him.

“You’re not coming back to the house? The guys were going to watch tape and order a pizza.”

I give him a scathing look. “It’s no wonder we’re fucking slow out there. Our bodies need the right kind of fuel to be in peak performance, and you guys keep shoveling in pizza and booze.”

He holds his hands up. “You know what, I’m going to get a ride from Ortiz. Figure your shit out man.”

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