Chapter 10

Ten

Nick

S unday was our first practice. It was the first time I’d ever coached a team, and I was nervous.

Hunter arrived first, putting his things in the dugout and coming to the mound to warm up. I walked him through the bullpen routine I wanted him to do each time he warmed up.

Abby was with a blonde woman and a man with a little girl. The man and the girl lobbed a baseball back and forth on the practice mound on the outside of the fence. The two women set up camp chairs facing the field. They looked like a family. Were they sisters?

I pulled my gaze from their group just outside the fence. I needed to focus on the team and not what Abby was doing or who she was with.

When the other kids arrived, I sent them to throw a ball in the outfield with Norm, who’d volunteered to assistant coach.

So far, no one mentioned who my brother or Brody’s dad was. I was worried they’d put it together and pull their kids from the team.

In school and after graduation, I’d always been Austin’s brother, even though he was younger than me. His reputation preceded him and tainted our family’s reputation.

Instead of resenting him, I tried to smooth things over as best I could, cleaning up his messes and being as good as I could be to not cause any more waves. He always caused enough for everyone.

My parents moved away after retirement. They said it was to travel, but I suspected it was to get space from him. They saw him as a lost cause.

After Hunter was done warming up, I said, “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I grabbed my wooden bat standing in the batter’s box on the left side of the catcher. Most of the batters in the league would be righties. My strike zone was higher than the boys’ would be, but I just wanted to get a feel for his speed.

Hunter concentrated on Brody’s glove and threw a fastball down the middle.

“That looked great. You can throw that all day.” I got into position again as he threw one fastball after another.

A few dads were resting their forearms on the top of the fence watching. Everyone wanted their kid to be the lead pitcher. Some of the moms were talking and watching younger siblings play in the dirt.

Hunter threw the next pitch sidearm. It was much slower than the others and flew outside. Brody had to run to contain it.

I set my bat on the ground. “What was that?”

Hunter looked like a deer caught in headlights.

I tended to be loud and intimidating when I got excited about something. I moved closer to him and lowered my voice. “What did you throw?”

When he still looked uncertain, I said, “You’re not in trouble. I just don’t want you to get hurt throwing sidearm. We need to get a pitching coach in here to train you with proper form before you attempt other pitches.”

Finally, he said, “It was my slider.”

I liked how he owned it and said my slider , not a slider.

I gave him a pointed look. “I just want to see fastballs right now.”

Hunter nodded reluctantly.

“How many pitches do you throw?” I had a feeling there was more in his arsenal.

“A knuckle curve, slider, change-up, knuckleball, cutter.”

Excitement coursed through me. The kid had the drive. “That’s impressive. A knuckle curve is the hardest pitch.”

“I watched videos to learn how to do them.”

I admired his dedication. “Only fastballs for now, though. Got it?”

Hunter nodded, and I smiled. “Good job pitching. Grab some water, and head out to the outfield to throw with your team.”

Hunter took off.

“Hey, Coach,” a man asked from the fence.

I moved closer wondering what he wanted. “There a problem with his pitches?” he asked.

It was the man Abby had arrived with. Was this the father or her boyfriend? Abby moved closer to stand next to him.

Abby gave me an apologetic look. “Nick, this is Ben, my sister’s fiancé.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. She wasn’t dating him. Then I tried to remember his question. “I want him to train with a pitching coach before he starts throwing other pitches. Besides, the kids in this league will have a tough time hitting his fastball. He throws hard.”

Ben nodded, seemingly appeased. “He’s eager to learn.”

“I can tell. He did good. Anything else?” I asked.

Ben smiled easily. “We’re good.”

Ben wasn’t angry, just curious. I wondered if he practiced with Hunter at all. Or if Abby did. I liked the idea of Abby practicing with her son. It was a nice image.

I jogged to the outfield and asked the team to take a knee so we could talk. I went over the expectations for practice, arriving early, putting their stuff away, and what they’d do for warm-up. I wanted it to be a routine. I made a point to call them young men and insisted their eyes were on mine. I was teaching them respect and responsibility as much as the fundamentals of baseball.

We worked on fielding and base running. I’d leave batting for another day. We had a lot to learn. The kids were still a little raw when it came to situational decisions on the field and bases.

Once we’d gotten into practice, I’d focused on the kids, noting who was best at throwing to first, who got down and blocked the ball from going into the outfield, who hit their cutoffs, who needed more work.

I blocked out the other parents entirely. The nerves dissipated at some point, and I got into the groove. I liked teaching the kids baseball. When practice was over, I dismissed the kids, telling them to watch one major league game this week and come prepared with a question about it for the next practice. I packed up the bases, prepared to rake the field before I left.

When I loaded everything into my truck, I noticed Hunter’s family was on the smaller ball field, playing.

I headed over with Brody.

Hunter stood on first, so I asked him, “You didn’t get enough in practice?”

Hunter grinned. “Somewhere the other kid is practicing, and when I meet him—”

“He’ll win.” I knew he’d watched the movie, but I loved that he’d retained it enough to take the lesson to heart.

I could feel Ben’s gaze on us.

Did he know I had a thing for Abby? Did he see right through me? I’d be interested in any of the kids, but not like that. Something drew me to Abby and Hunter. Something more than him being another kid on my team.

“You’re practicing a lot, huh?” I asked him.

“All the time,” Hunter said.

He reminded me of myself at his age. I loved baseball. I threw a ball or swung a bat whenever I could. It drove my mom crazy because I’d do it in the house until she kicked me out.

Abby smiled from her spot on the sideline. “I have to remind him to eat.”

I refocused on Hunter, telling myself I was the coach, not someone interested in his mother. “Eating, sleeping, and giving your muscles rest is just as important as practice.”

“Yeah, okay,” Hunter said as he dug his toe in the dirt.

I wasn’t sure if he was listening, but I knew Abby was. I moved over to stand next to her.

“Can I play?” Brody asked, and I waved for him to go in the field. He took his face mask and glove to play catcher. I should have insisted he put his full catcher’s gear on, but the little girl was on the mound. I didn’t think she’d be throwing any fastballs I’d need to worry about. Abby’s sister stood at short.

Abby pointed to everyone. “That’s Cammie, Ben’s daughter, and my sister, Brooke.”

I nodded, appreciating her telling me who everyone was.

“How he’d do in practice?” Abby asked as Cammie lobbed a ball to Brody, her tongue between her lips as she concentrated.

“Great.” He’d looked even better today than in the tryouts. “I can tell he’s practicing.”

She smiled at me, and it felt like we were the only two on the field. “He soaked up everything you said in tryouts and has been applying it at home.”

“Some coaches just observe at tryouts, but if I could give a few tips, I thought it would help.”

Cammie pitched another ball to Ben. Hunter was watching, his foot on first.

“You’re very patient with them.”

I felt Abby’s gaze on the side of my face, but I kept my attention on the pickup game. Occasionally, I saw Ben shoot us a look. I couldn’t tell if it was a warning or just checking to make sure Abby was okay.

“I know we have a lot of work to do. I’m going to teach them the fundamentals, and we’ll get better.” I could break it down in my head, every small thing we needed to get before spring. I wasn’t worried. We’d get there.

She bumped her shoulder with mine. “You’re a great coach.”

The touch sent a tingle down my arm.

I chuckled, finding that hard to believe since I’d never done it before. “You can tell that from one practice?”

“There was a tryout, a team meeting, and a practice,” Abby said with a smile. “And when you’ve had a bad coach, you know how to spot the good ones.”

“Hunter’s had a bad coach?” That time, I focused on Abby’s face. I didn’t like it. One bad coach had the power to make a kid lose his love for the sport. Or burn out young and never realize their potential.

Abby’s face pinched. “He had one who wouldn’t let him play a base or pitch.”

“Why?” I couldn’t imagine Hunter wasn’t showing potential even at a young age.

“He’d said they had to pay attention one hundred percent of the time, or they couldn’t play a base. They were six.”

“You’re kidding.” I couldn’t take my eyes from hers, wondering if she was telling me the truth.

“Nope. His son always pitched, though.”

“Ah. One of those. Everyone wants their kid to pitch. During the season, the two pitchers will be Hunter and Jackson.”

“You already know?” Abby asked, curious.

“I’m going to be honest with you. Right now, Hunter’s the best. I picked him for the team solely because of his arm.”

“You don’t think he can bat—”

I held up a hand to stop her. “He continually impresses me with his potential in everything he does. But I put him on the team because he can pitch. Batting will come with time.”

We’d moved closer when I lowered my voice. I didn’t want Hunter or Brody to hear me talking about the kids on the team.

Her lips twisted. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but he didn’t make the other travel team in the area.”

That didn’t necessarily surprise me. Most kids got on the team because their dads volunteered to coach. Hunter was at a disadvantage if his father wasn’t in the picture.

“He was devastated.”

“I bet.” Hunter loved baseball. He’d want to be on the best team and would take any rejection hard. I would have.

Abby shook her head. “I don’t understand it because he seemed good enough.”

“There’s so many politics with this stuff. Did the head coach know the other kids’ parents? Are they neighbors? Are you willing to assistant coach?”

“Exactly.” Abby laughed, and I relaxed even further. “Thank you. That makes me feel better. I think Hunter’s good, but I don’t know much about baseball.”

I took a deep breath before I asked, “Did his father teach him?”

Abby tensed. “No. We were just playing in the backyard one day, and he was good. So I asked him why he was playing soccer and not baseball. We never even thought about it. You just start with soccer. Sometimes I wonder if we’d started earlier, if he’d had a father who’d taught him when he was young, he’d be further along.”

“Hunter has potential. With time, he’s going to learn what it takes to be a great ball player. Those other kids that made the travel team might have had more experience, but that doesn’t mean they were more talented.”

Her eyes searched mine before she said, “Thank you for saying that.”

“I’m not just saying things to make you feel better. I’m telling you how it is.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” She fell silent for a few seconds before continuing, “The fact is—you’re a better coach. The other team’s schedule wasn’t doable for me.”

“Do you mind me asking where his father is?”

She shot me a look I couldn’t read. “He’s not very involved. This is a lot for him.”

I wanted to ask so many questions. How involved was he? Did she mean practice was too much for him, or something else? I loved being involved in Brody’s life, and he was only my nephew.

“Are you two going to join us? We need more fielders,” Ben said from the mound where he was pitching to Cammie.

The expression on his face could only be described as one of a concerned brother. I wonder if Ben felt protective of her because of her situation.

“Let me grab my glove.” I enjoyed talking to Abby, but we’d gotten a little too personal, and I wondered if Ben sensed it.

I headed to center field.

I was surprised when Abby grabbed a glove and took third. She said she didn’t know much about baseball. But I wondered if she’d learned because of Hunter.

A couple of weeks ago, I was living alone in a home I rented, working on my computer, in a town where I didn’t know a lot of people. My days were solitary.

On some level, I must have always known it was temporary. That I’d need to pick up and help Brody at any time. I moved here because I wanted to give Brody stability. Now, I had him, the team, and their parents. Already, Annapolis was feeling more like a home than it had when I grew up here.

I shouldn’t get used to it. There was always a possibility Austin might get out of the charges. He’d take Brody back, and I’d be left with nothing. I rubbed my chest with my free hand.

“You ready?” Ben asked from the mound.

I looked at Cammie, who held her bat in good position in the batter’s box. “I’m ready.”

But I wasn’t expecting her to hit a line drive at my head. I barely got my glove up to block it in time, and then it bounced out of my glove. I’d been distracted and not really expecting a young girl to hit it that hard.

Impressed, I picked the ball off the ground and threw it to Ben. It would take longer for my pride to recover.

“Coach, what was that?” Hunter asked from second, his hands on his hips.

Cammie smiled wide, clearly pleased with her at-bat. Abby jogged over to her and high-fived her.

I cleared my throat. “I wasn’t ready.”

“Obviously,” Brody mumbled from his spot at catcher before pulling his face mask down.

Ben raised a brow. “You ready now?”

“Yup.” I cleared my throat, which was dry from the dust I’d kicked up grabbing the ball.

Abby touched my shoulder with a smile as she jogged by on her way to third. “You got this?”

“I got it,” I grumbled, not wanting to appear amused by her teasing. I was very aware that Ben had his eye on me. The last thing I needed was anyone suspecting something had happened between us. I knew Abby wanted to keep it quiet, and I was positive she wouldn’t want her future brother-in-law figuring it out.

“Who’s up?” Ben asked.

Brody stood up. “Can I bat?”

“I’ll catch for you,” I said, jogging to home plate.

Ben was just throwing from his shoulder, not using a full extension, so I didn’t need any gear. It was just a low-key pick-up game. We let the kids bat, and we fielded. I held back on giving any critiques. It was purely for fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d hung out with anyone doing what I loved.

At my old home, I’d played ball in a league. It was the one time I was able to get out and be around people. I never got particularly close to anyone, though. Hanging out with Hunter’s family felt different. They’d easily accepted me, and I enjoyed their ribbing and teasing.

When we finally called it a night, I felt a warmth in my chest. Like a gold ball of light pulsing with energy, making me feel like anything was possible. As if maybe, if I was patient, Abby might come around to the idea of something happening between us. But I wasn’t naive enough to think we had a future.

“You ready to get out of here?” I asked Brody while he was showing Hunter his baseball cards he always kept in his bag.

Brody looked up from the cards. “I’m starving. Can we get pizza?”

“That’s what where we’re headed. To Giovanni’s . Have you eaten there yet?” Brooke asked.

“We ordered takeout at the parents’ baseball meeting, but I don’t think I grabbed a slice.” I’d been too preoccupied.

“I love Giovanni’s,” Brody said.

I didn’t tell people that Brody was my nephew and not my son. I assumed some people in town knew our situation, but it was possible Abby didn’t.

“Want to meet us there?” Ben asked.

“Please,” Brody pleaded.

“Why not?” I appreciated that Ben was asking. It meant he trusted me. It was only as Hunter’s coach, but it was something.

We gathered our things and got into our cars. No one else was practicing that late on Sunday.

Pulling out of the lot, I asked, “How was practice?”

“It was good.” Brody’s gaze was on the view outside the window.

“You didn’t think it was uncomfortable that I was your coach?”

“No. Why would I?” He gave a look like he thought I was weird for asking.

“Did you feel like I was harder on you?”

“No.” Brody was quiet for a minute, so I let it go.

I turned on the radio to baseball walk-up songs so we could debate the best one. It was something we’d done since we moved in together.

After a few, Brody said, “I’d still choose ‘Nothing Can Stop Us.’”

“That’s a good one.” One I never got sick of.

“They played it during the Little League World Series.”

“You watched it?” I asked, eager to know anything about his life with Austin.

Brody nodded. “That was when Dad wasn’t around as much.”

I hated that he was left to fend for himself, sometimes scrounging up food or getting himself to school. “You know you could have called me if you needed me.”

“I know.” His lips set in a straight line.

He was a lot like me. Stubborn. He wanted to take care of himself, but he was eight. He could be left home alone, but not for entire days without anyone ensuring he ate or took a shower. I tried to settle my guilty conscience because I was there now, and I’d make sure he had everything he needed.

It was deeply satisfying to provide for him. To be there for him. For so many years, I worried about him from afar. Offering my help but knowing Austin would only call when things were really bad, and he had no other choice.

I couldn’t screw things up by sleeping with the mom of one of his teammates. It was wrong on so many levels.