Page 70 of Love in the Outfield

I stubbornly shake my head. “Nope. I’ll see him in court.”

Ava’s eyes widen. “You mean you’re not going to let him see August until then?”

“You heard right.”

“Cruella,” Ava says.

“I’m scared to see him again. He’s got some sort of power over me and I can’t trust him. I have to protect myself. I’m afraid he’ll talk me into something I’ll regret.”

“Give yourself some credit. He didn’t convince you about the vacation. You’re not some shrinking violet.”

“I know but I’m weak with him.”

Mama’s expression softens and her eyes are overly-bright. “Because you love him.”

I cover my face with my hands. Muffled I say, “God help me, I do.”

I start crying until Auggie says, “Mama cry?” That snaps me out of it.

“Mama’s fine, baby boy.” He waddles over and pats my thigh like he’s comforting a child, and I laugh. “Could you be any more adorable my little snuggle bunny?” I say picking him up to sit on my lap. We finish our tea as August entertains us and brings joy back to the table.

32

CADE

“Strike!” The umpire calls as the home team crowd roars. I struck out again. I want to throw my helmet in frustration. I’m letting my team down. I’m not seeing the ball right now. My bat has gone cold. I walk dejectedly into the dugout. A few of the guys pat my back in empathy. We’ve all been there. Hitting streaks are just that, streaks. It sucks to go cold.

I thought I’d learned how to navigate compartmentalizing my life two years ago. Guess not. Georgia won’t answer my calls. I haven’t talked to her in five days. Straight to voicemail… Déjà vu. The only difference… this time I’m not giving up.

I grab an iPad and watch a replay of my last at-bat. Man, I’m swinging at shit! The batting coach approaches and sits down beside me. He points out a few biomechanical errors I need to adjust and talks to me about my pitch selections.

“Remember this pitcher loves to mix it up. He usually likes to throw it up and in to crowd you, but this time he got you chasing the lower outside corner. He’s got his slider working for him today.”

“You can say that again. I’m just not seeing it today.”

“Shake it off. Focus on your next at-bat. Try to stay relaxed. Tension can mess up your timing. Be patient. Let a few pitches go by. Remember what we worked on in practice today. Keep your weight balanced during your swing.”

“Thanks, coach. At least we’re a few runs ahead.”

He stands, offering an encouraging smile. “We’ve got a nice little lead.” Coach leaves me with my iPad and heads over to watch the next batter.

After the game, I shower and change then head straight back to my hotel. After settling in, I call Georgia again. She’s probably at work but I try anyway. I’m shocked when she answers.

“Georgia?”

“Who were you expectin’?”

“Um… I just… I didn’t think you’d ever talk to me again.”

“That would be kinda hard.”

“Yeah, right… you know what I meant.”

Silence.

“Um… well… have you thought about what I said?” I say carefully.

“It’s practically all I’ve thought about.”

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