Page 26 of Love Her

Chapter 13

Connor

I’m a sucker. A sucker for a good whiskey and a long pair of legs but more importantly for new friends who call in a favor. Owen’s first plea for help to coach Little Leaguers went unaddressed because of a fist to my face but he pulled out the big guns last week when he asked again. And by big guns I mean his pregnant wife.

Minnie appeared at my door one day, a huge smile on her face and a box of donuts in her hand. She lured me into her trap with baked goods and pleasant conversation. Yet, as much as I tried to decline, I can’t seem to muster an ounce of regret as I stand here in a pizzeria wearing a red baseball cap and a T-shirt with “assistant coach” in bright white letters across my back.

Owen wanted to have our first team meeting in a casual setting where the players and parents would have the opportunity to meet one another. He explained with small-town sports it often takes a village to get the players to practice and games. This casual meeting over pizza and root beer will allow parents who don’t know one another an opportunity to meet others who they may need in a pinch for carpooling.

Looking over the list of players, I read over the notes Owen has made from prior seasons. Only two of the players are new to the sport which means I’ll likely spend most of my time working with them on fundamentals. A thought occurs to me and I approach Minnie, who is chattering away with her sister, Dakota.

“Ladies,” I say in greeting.

“Connor, look at you all official. I bet there’s a single mom here wondering if she can get you to blow a whistle at her.”

Barking a laugh, I shake my head at Dakota’s comment. “I don’t have a whistle.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the single mom part that you should focus on.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Where’s Cap?”

Dakota smiles widely at the mention of her new husband. “He’s at home with Cali. A little daddy time while Min and I take Ari for pedicures.”

“Gotcha. Is she still pissed you wouldn’t let her sign up for baseball?”

Nodding she says, “She tried negotiating with me again last week but I’m not running all over creation for activities. One at a time and this year it’s dance. We should probably get going.”

“Before you do, would you mind taking a picture of me? My mom will get a kick out of me coaching.”

Dakota extends her hand and takes my phone, pulling up the camera. I turn my back to her, and once she’s done, I say my goodbyes and shoot the photo to my mom and sister. They’re both quick to respond. Heart emojis from my mom and laughing from Meg.

My dad was a coach for me when I was young and this kind of feels like a little full circle. I scan the room for Owen. He’s standing with his arms crossed, listening to a trio of animated parents. One mother is pointing to a boy I assume is her son while a father is mimicking a player at bat. His stance could use a little work.

While I wait for the meeting to start, I grab a cup from the stack and fill it with root beer. Lifting it to my lips I allow the fizzy bubbles to pop in my mouth. Before I can take a second drink, a hand slams onto my shoulder, jarring me enough that I have to push my arm out so not to spill on myself.

“Shit, sorry. I hate to do this, but I have to leave.” Glaring at Owen I wait for him to elaborate. “Jameson just called me about a possible vandalism at one of the job sites. He’s out of town and needs me to meet the police.”

As much as I don’t want to run this meeting, that is a valid reason to bail. “Fine. You owe me.”

“Here’s the checklist. Biggest thing is to go over the basic guidelines, remind everyone to get a cup, and see if you can sweet talk someone into being team parent.”

Slamming his clipboard into my chest, I grip it and stand here like a lost lamb as he walks out the door. Well, that’s just great. Placing my cup on the table, I begin skimming the list when one of the boys from the team hops up on the bench and tries to reach for a cup himself. The potential for this to go awry is obvious so I help him out.

“Hey buddy, let me help you with that. What’s your name?”

“Kyle. What’s yours?” He scrunches his nose in what I think is an effort to look tough.

“My name is Connor, but I think you can call me Coach.”

“Hi Coa—Jacob!” Halfway through his greeting he switches gears and jumps off the bench, shaking the table as he goes. Okay then. I guess no root beer for him.

I remember the name Jacob from the list and turn to face our newest arrival. Only, it isn’t the player my eyes fall on, it’s his mother. Eyes wide and her mouth in the form of an “O” she looks just as shocked as I am.

“Connor.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Mom, can I go with Kyle?” the little guy with a messy head of dark brown hair asks.

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