Page 19 of Wes
“She uses Reece to get to his dad. There’s something off about her. If she’s there tonight, you’ll see what I mean.”
I nod and notice my time’s up for more on this topic. “Let’s go before we’re late.”
Our ride is quiet, and I spend it thinking about Wes’s ex. I know the chances of not dealing with an ex-wife is only becoming smaller as I age. Learning from not only Wes but my son that she’s going to be a challenge isn’t appealing at all. For a moment, I debate whether I should walk away.
“Mom?” Jeremy calls when we near the front of his school.
“Yeah, honey?”
“This is kind of weird, and I’ll do my best to be okay with it, but if you like him, date him. If you’re happy, I’ll be happy.” Jeremy leans across and kisses my cheek. Before I can reply, he’s out the door and jogging toward a group of boys.
***
I’m grateful when they shove me out the door so I won’t miss Jeremy’s game. My eyes shift between the road and the clock on my dash, calculating how late I’ll be. As a single mom, being late beats not attending.
When I get home, I dash to my room, stripping out of my scrubs along the way. Losing my balance at the door, I teeter on one foot when things get tangled. “Ugh!” I grumble and toss what’s in my hands into the hamper in the corner.
Ten minutes later, I brush one final coat of mascara over my lashes and run back through my house, grabbing my purse by the door, and lock up. My heart races by the time I’m in my car, and I take a few deep breaths.
Thankfully, the school isn’t far. I find the lot near the baseball field and park. I adjust my jeans and blouse before looking at my reflection. “It’s a high school baseball game,” I chide myself.
But I’ll see Wes.
I still haven’t texted him today. After Jeremy’s words, I wanted to think on things, and before I knew it, Jenna was shoving me down the hall to leave.
My stomach is in knots. I’m not sure if I’ll even have a chance to talk to Wes tonight. I’m here to see Jeremy, which is exciting in itself.
Bleachers line the sides behind each team. I’m surprised by the number of parents and friends in attendance. Jeremy’s team returns to the bench, and the away team runs to their positions in the field. Hurrying my steps, I search for a place to sit.
“Natalia!”
Seeing my mother and father, I change directions and sit on the end next to Mom. “I forgot to tell you I’d be here.”
“I’m glad you could make it. You should have seen Jeremy’s face telling us you were coming. He’s playing really well tonight,” Mom says before spouting baseball terms I should know but don’t thanks to my missed games.
Most of what she says I tune out. Not only because I don’t understand it, but because when they called my name, Wes also heard it. His gaze is on mine, but I can’t read his expression before he turns away.
I smile when Jeremy grins at me. It reminds me of him as a toddler. The loud pop of the ball hitting the bat grabs his attention, and I watch my boy do what he loves. I search the players until I find Wes’s son.
Baseball is slow.
I don’t know if it’s the game or my eagerness to speak to Wes, but this game is dragging. The boys are winning, which is fantastic, and I’m shocked to see how well Jeremy moves. He’s faster and more agile than I anticipated.
“Wow,” I mutter to myself.
“Jeremy’s good,” Dad tells me, leaning across Mom.
“I see that!” I grin at him, and we share a proud smile.
“No! He’s in!” a woman near the front yells.
Turning toward the game, I search the players, trying to figure out what just happened. The woman gets louder as she repeats herself.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
Mom shakes her head. “Her son got tagged on his way across the plate, but she doesn’t want to accept it.”
The woman looks toward us, turning her anger in our direction. “What’d you say, bitch?”
