Page 50 of Sometimes You Fall

Chase sighs. “Look, you may be friends with my mom, but we don’t have to be friends, okay? I’m sorry I broke into your garage and smashed your car, but beyond working to repay you for that, we don’t need to talk.”

I cross my arms over my chest as the sky around us grows completely dark. “Don’t forget I’m your coach too.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” he mutters, running the tool through one more weed before standing up tall. “Am I done out here?”

I groan, realizing that the person I may need to work on my relationship with the most is the boy standing right in front of me. He’s not my kid, but he’s Scottie’s son, and the older brother of our child. I refuse to fight with him. There has to be a way we can figure this out.

“Yeah. Come on. I have another job for you.”

“Joy.”

Chase follows me into the garage and over to the steel sink where we scrub engine parts. I found a bucket of odd parts and ends, stuff that I’m sure I don’t even need anymore, but the point is to get this kid’s hands dirty. Mr. Rogers used to save this job for me when I worked here after school. I didn’t understand the point of it back then, but now I do, and maybe Chase will figure it out too.

“Steel pads are in the bucket,” I say, pointing to a small container beside him. “Soap is above you, and I highly recommend wearing an apron.”

“You want me to clean these?” His eyes survey the grease-covered pieces of steel. “Is it even possible for these to get clean?”

“Yup. It’s possible.” I pat him on the shoulder and start to walk away, but before I can stop myself, more words spill out. “You know, I used to do the same thing.”

“What are you talking about?” Chase replies, still staring down into the sink full of engine parts.

“Practice my pitching without the ball.” Our eyes meet, and though he’s acting like he doesn’t care about what I have to say, his eyes show curiosity. “How often do you do that?”

He swallows visibly. “More than I should probably admit.”

I nod once. “I can tell. That’s what sets you apart, Chase. That’s why I told Coach Carter you should be the starting pitcher, not Max or Nathan.”

“I don’t need you doing me any favors,” he snaps.

“Believe me, the last place I would do you a favor is on the baseball field.” I walk back over to him and point in the sink. “This favor is for your mom, just so you know. But on the field? There’s no room for error, no place for players who don’t earn their spot.”

“Well, now the whole team hates me, so thanks for that.”

I lower my voice and continue, “It’s easy for people to be jealous ofwhatyou’ve got, but nothowyou got it.” His eyes bore into mine. “It comes down to hard work, Chase. If they put in the same effort, they could have your talent. Believe me, I know what you’re going through.”

For a moment, I see a flicker of understanding in his eyes, a realization that we have more in common than not. His face softens, and his scowl begins to fade. But then he clears his throat, grabs an apron from the sink, and reaches for a steel pad, running it under the water. “No, you don’t.”

A small part of me wants to argue with him, but the adult part of my brain tells me tonight isn’t the time. We have a long road ahead, and there will be moments to bridge the gaps that separate us.

At least, I hope so.

“I’ll be in the office if you need me,” I say as I walk away. As I settle behind the counter, waiting for Scottie to return to pick him up, there’s a dull ache in my chest that won’t subside. It’s half for the woman I want, and the other half for her son who has his own challenges to face, some I’m now responsible for as well.

***

“How’d it go?” Scottie asks as soon as she walks through the front door nearly an hour later. She’s changed from her dress into casual pants and a plain white t-shirt, but she still looks strikingly beautiful.

I rise from my chair, pulling up my jeans. “Well, do you want the truth?”

Her face falls. “What did he do?”

“Nothing horrible,” I say, brushing a hand through my hair. My shirt rides up a little, flashing a sliver of my abs, and Scottie’s eyes focus on the sight. I wait for her gaze to return to mine, smirking in her direction.

Her glare is icy, probably because I caught her staring. “Continue, please.”

“He’s just pissed, Scottie.”

“Well, he has no one to be pissed at but himself.” She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts together. And maybe I’m just imagining things, but her boobs look bigger than they were earlier today.

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