Page 47 of Scoring Position

“It’s nice to meet you, Charlie,” I say, returning the gesture.

She leans into him, whispering loud enough for me to hear. “Is she your girlfriend?”

He looks at me for a moment before cupping his mouth as if he’s about to tell her a secret. “I really want her to be. What do you think? Should I ask?”

“Yeah,” she says with another laugh. “She’s pretty.”

“I think so too,” he replies, tickling her neck and making her squirm in his arms before setting her back on her feet. “Why don’t you go finish coloring your picture, and I’ll come see it in a little bit?”

She runs off, settling back at the table and focusing all her attention on the paper in front of her. Taking a green crayon, she pokes her little tongue out in concentration as she works to stay inside the lines.

“What is this?” I ask quietly, my eyes bouncing around the room as kids of all ages, from toddlers to teenagers, enjoy various activities.

“I came here once a month when I was young. The connections I made had such a huge impact on my life that I try to stop by and visit whenever I can. It’s similar to a support group for kids who’ve been left behind by their parents. A lot of these guys live with other family members like I did, but a handful bounce around from foster home to foster home, so this gives them something to look forward to. For some of them, it’s the only sense of belonging they have.”

I hold back the tears that are threatening to fill my eyes. I’m so grateful that Ace had a grandmother who bent over backward to make sure he was cared for, but I can’t even begin to imagine how lost he must have felt sometimes without parents—and never truly knowing where he came from.

“There’s our star!” a masculine voice says, bringing me back to the present. I look up to see an older man walking toward us with a bright smile on his face.

“Hey, Doctor Bosworth,” Ace replies, reaching out for a handshake before pulling me close. “I brought someone special with me today. This is Lark Dawson. She’s on the path to becoming a therapist too.” He looks down at me proudly as the man reaches out, and I slide my palm against his.

“Wow!” he replies. “Welcome to our little practice. You’re in for a treat today with all the kids. Generally, we let them roam around and pick their own activities. The older ones usually hog the video game consoles, and we have a few other therapists available in case they have anything going on they want to talk about. We find that not forcing them to meet with us makes them feel more comfortable. Unless you’re this guy,” he says, lifting his chin at Ace and winking. “It was like pulling teeth to get answers out of him.”

“I was a teenage boy,” he replies, rolling his eyes playfully. “I thought I knew everything.”

“Not much has changed,” I joke, earning a pinch to the side that makes me giggle.

Doctor Bosworth points at me. “I like her. Keep her around.”

“I plan to,” Ace replies, looking down at me with adoration before glancing around the room. “Where’s Dallas?”

“Out back, by himself,” the doctor replies, turning toward the window, where a boy—maybe sixteen or seventeen years old—tosses a baseball into the air before catching it in his glove. “His Aunt Rachel’s cancer came back, and she isn’t doing well. She’s starting treatments next week, so we’re trying to remain hopeful. He doesn’t have anyone else to take him in, which means he’ll be in the foster system until he turns eighteen if anything happens to her.”

“You okay in here for a while?” Ace asks. “I just want to go talk to him. I’ll be quick.”

I shake my head rapidly. “Take all the time you need. I’ll go color with my new friend over there.”

“Thank you, baby,” he replies, kissing my forehead before disappearing through the door. I walk over to the corner table, where Charlie works to finish her project.

“Can I join you?” I ask, and she looks up, sliding a second coloring sheet and the box of crayons my way. I pull out the small chair, lowering myself down with a grateful smile as I settle the page in front of me and get to work.

“Ace likes you,” she says matter-of-factly. “Do you like him too?”

I nod. “I do. I like him a lot.”

“Hmmm,” she replies, studying my expression as if she’s trying to gauge whether or not I’m being honest. She must find what she’s looking for, because she sits forward as seriousnessblankets her tiny face. “I was going to ask him to be my boyfriend, but you can take him. I have a few others.”

I bark a laugh. “Well, thank you, Charlie,” I reply as she smirks back at me. “That’s very generous of you to share.”

She points an accusing crayon my way, eyeing me cautiously. “Don’t hurt him. He’s the best.”

I look toward the window, where he plays catch with a now-smiling Dallas. The boy looks happy as he talks animatedly to Ace, as if he understands him in ways nobody else can—which I’m sure is true. He’s been through so much, and the fact that he’s still here, being a constant in the lives of these kids who don’t get much of that in the outside world, just goes to show the kind of loving, caring man he is.

“I promise I’ll take good care of him.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

ACE

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