Page 13 of The Foul Out

“It’s okay,” Hannah assured me, hurrying after her. “Everyone gets excited to see the signed balls.”

With Sam in my arms, I struggled to keep up. At almost fifty pounds, he was really getting too big to be carried like this. But I couldn’t deny him. It often felt like he’d gotten the short end of the stick. While Piper required a great deal of attention, Sam was a go-with-the-flow kind of kid. Unfortunately, that meant he didn’t always get the attention he deserved. So if he wanted to be carried, then I’d do it for as long as I could.

Piper stopped toward the end of the wall and pressed one little finger to the glass.

“Kyle Bosco, number 29. Ball number 857.”

“We saw these yesterday,” Sam mumbled, giving me a small frown.

“We had to come back because Mom ruined the game. She has to say she’s sorry to the team.” Piper didn’t even look at us.

That wasn’t at all what I’d told her, but she refused to believe a word I’d said about not ruining the game. So I’d finally just sighed and let it go.

Hannah’s eyes narrowed, but I waved her off. I didn’t want a fight.

“How many balls are there on this wall?” I asked.

Piper moved to the row where the last two were placed. “Asher Price, number 5. Ball 869. Jasper Quinn, number 18. Ball 870.”

“You might be better at Revs trivia than anyone I’ve ever met.” Hannah smiled at my daughter.

Piper blinked at the glass and shifted back two rows of balls to number 857. “Kyle Bosco’s favorite game is trivia.”

Hannah nodded. “Want to go down and meet him?”

Piper turned and tilted her head up. Rather than focusing on Hannah’s face, she looked at a spot somewhere near the neckline of her black fitted dress. “Yes.”

Rather than gushing with excitement at the idea of meeting their favorite athlete like many kids would, my daughter responded with a single succinct word.

Hannah lifted a brow, as if in anticipation of that excitement. But after a moment, she gave Piper a nod and led us toward a heavy door that opened to a set of stairs. At the bottom was another hallway. We walked in silence down the long cinderblock tunnel that took us deep into the heart of the stadium. Clearly, Hannah had given up on making small talk with my daughter.

A set of double doors stood open, leading to a bright room. The space was filled with couches and tables and close to twenty people. Most were adults, but I spotted a child here and there. The group was milling about, and a few people hovered around the table filled with muffins, bagels, fruits, and other pastries.

“Can I have strawberries?” Sam straightened in my arms, his eyes locked on the massive bowl of his favorite fruit.

“One second,” I assured him.

Patience wearing thin, he squirmed in my arms, so I set him down at the threshold, then stepped into the room.

Multiple sets of eyes landed on us as the noise in the room quieted to a hush.

“We’ve all been expecting Harper. There’s no reason to make the poor woman more uncomfortable than Kyle already has.” A light voice cut through the silence, the woman’s British accent slight. She was petite, and a young boy kept close to her side as she moved my way. “I’m Zara Price, and this is my son Greyson.” She gave Sam a small smile. “Greyson also loves strawberries.”

“Unless they’re mixed with bananas.” Greyson yanked on Sam’s arm playfully. “Don’t call me Greyson. Just Grey. Let’s go eat the strawberries before Dad and his friends take them all.”

Sam tilted his head back, looking up at me, eyes wide.

I nodded. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ll be able to see me from the table.”

Hesitantly looking over his shoulder twice, he allowed Greyson to drag him toward the food setup.

“Sorry, Grey is his father’s son. There isn’t a shy bone in his body. He tends to forget some people are nervous in new places.” As much as she claimed her husband was outgoing, it was clear she was as well. “We’re all glad you’re here.”

“I’m going to make sure everything is set on the field,” Hannah said, taking a step away from us. “And deal with Jasper. I’ll be back.”

Over at the table, Greyson scooped up the bowl of strawberries. Then he disappeared under the tablecloth. A moment later, with one more look at me, Sam joined him.

My heart clenched. I’d love for him to find a friend. Although we’d never see these people again after today. Hannah had invited us for breakfast and mentioned a few photos on the grass with some of the players. She’d promised that the team wouldmake a statement, and with any luck, it would deflect the wrath of Boston. Then my kids and I could live in peace again.

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