Chapter 15

Fifteen

Abby

W ell, tonight, you have me.

His words played on repeat in my head while he uncorked the bottle and poured the red wine into two coffee mugs.

I smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t have wineglasses. Nothing fancy here.”

I held up my glass. “Just you. But you’re not fancy. Just beautiful.”

I took a sip to cover my pleasure at his words. He was a sweet talker. I didn’t care that he tried to deny it; he was good with words. Almost too good. It made me wonder if he was that smooth with all the women.

“Did you leave someone back home?” I almost winced at my question. Why was I asking him about girlfriends? He’d think I’d want more with him.

“I never would’ve been with you that night if I was involved with someone,” he said with conviction.

“I know that. I just wondered if you’d met someone since. Not because I want to know. I was just curious if you had to leave someone you cared about to move here.” I forced myself to stop rambling because I was making it sound like I did care if he was seeing anyone.

His face was drawn. “There was no one. I think I kept things surface level because I always knew this day would come. Austin would get himself into something he couldn’t get out of. I was always ready to step in.”

“That’s good for Brody, but no way to live your life.” I felt for him. Living that way had to be difficult.

“I don’t know that I knew that was what I was doing. It was easy for me to end my month-to-month lease and move everything here.”

“Yet you didn’t buy one when it was just you?”

“I knew Brody would need me one day. Not just for me to step into the uncle role, but for me to step in for Austin.”

Nick had lived his life knowing he’d need to pick up at any minute to take care of Brody. He was there because it was better for Brody to live somewhere familiar. “With Austin’s track record, I can see why you thought that.”

“I would have kept him in the same house if it had been decent, but Austin didn’t care about providing a safe home for Brody.”

“I hate that for him.” Hunter missed out on a father, but I’d always provided him with what he needed: a home, clothing, and activities.

“Brody behaves for me. He’s almost too good. Like he’s afraid to mess up because he thinks I’ll walk away.”

“Hunter and Brody go to the same school, but his name hadn’t come up before.”

“The administration was after Austin to get him to school. He was either late or not there at all. At least until Brody realized if he wanted to keep up, he needed to get himself to school.”

“An eight-year-old shouldn’t have to be responsible. Sure, I want Hunter to do some chores, remember he has homework, and do it. But I can’t imagine him being responsible for getting himself to school.”

“I feel bad I wasn’t more involved.”

“You couldn’t have known how bad it was, and you wanted to give Austin the benefit of the doubt.”

“Brody didn’t want to tell me what was going on.”

“Maybe he was embarrassed.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“He might’ve been proud. He didn’t want to admit how bad his father was. Maybe he was afraid he’d end up in foster care. That you wouldn’t take him in.”

“I don’t know why he’d think that. I’ve always been there for him.”

I reached over to cover his knuckles with my hand. “People don’t always have rational thoughts. Especially kids. They don’t understand how the world works. The one person who was supposed to be there for him let him down again and again.”

“He was doing the best he could.”

“The important thing is that he’s in a good place right now.”

From everything I’d seen, Nick was doing a great job. “You rented a home in town; you’re consulting with the counselor; you’re coaching his baseball team. All of it is to give Brody a sense of security and safety. But the most important thing is that you love him. Brody needs that desperately. He needs someone to put him first.”

Brody rushed inside. A gust of chilly wind followed him. “Hey, can you be on first?”

“Absolutely. Let me grab my glove.” Nick stood, then asked me, “You want to play too?”

“I have an extra glove if you need one,” Nick said on his way to the bag he’d left in the foyer.

“I have my old softball glove.”

“You played?” Nick asked when he returned with his glove. Mine sat on the counter by the door. Hunter always wanted to practice or play catch. If I wasn’t working, I obliged.

“A little. My coach was nothing like you,” I said as we headed outside.

“Oh yeah, how’s that?” Nick asked as we made our way to first base. Hunter had flat bases he used for first, second, and third, but a more substantial home plate that fit into the ground, so it didn’t slide.

I paused by first, where Nick was supposed to be positioned. “Our coach didn’t break things down like you do, teaching every rule and fundamental. It was very basic.”

Nick smiled slowly and winked. “I can teach you now.”

His wink made every inch of my body heat up. I already knew he was skilled in the bedroom, but he made me think he had plans for other very dirty things.

I shook my head and moved to the outfield.

Hunter was pitching to Brody. A large net was behind him to catch the thrown balls since we didn’t have anyone playing catcher.

Brody ground out to first. Then they switched places. Nick paused to give pointers, but it was more relaxed than in practice. When we paused to get some water, Nick sat in one of the rocking chairs on the back porch. He looked so natural there, like he belonged, and my heart squeezed.

“What happens if the ball is tipped but the ball is caught by the catcher?” Hunter asked Nick.

Hunter stood in front of Nick, his water bottle in his hand, his gaze intent on him. Hunter was so serious about baseball. He watched the games and asked me questions I couldn’t answer.

“A foul tip?” Nick asked.

“Yeah.”

“If it goes straight back, it’s a foul ball. If it goes above the batter, then it’s an out.” Nick demonstrated the trajectory of the ball with his hand.

“What if it’s a foul ball, and there’s a runner on third? Can he tag up and run home?” Hunter continued.

I placed a hand on his shoulder, tempted to tell him to give Nick a break. It wasn’t practice.

“These are great questions, buddy. It shows you’re really thinking about the game. If there’s a runner on third, I’ll tell you to let it drop. We don’t want the runner to tag and run home.”

“He’s always asking questions I can’t answer.”

“Save them up and ask when I see you next. I don’t mind. It’s how you learn. Baseball is a thinking man’s game.”

Nick was so patient with the boys.

I moved to sit next to him when the boys left their bottles on the porch and grabbed their gloves and a ball to throw. “The other parents were complaining that practice is during football games.”

“I don’t care about football.”

I laughed. “That’s what one of the dads said. It’s refreshing because everyone around here seems to. If you go to the grocery store when Baltimore’s playing, it’s a ghost town.”

“I’ve never been into it.”

“I like how you’re different.” It was a small thing, but it showed Nick knew who he was, and he wasn’t ashamed to be that person. He didn’t cover the parts of himself that others wouldn’t like. He might have lived his life like it was going to be uprooted at any second, but he was true to himself. Maybe he hadn’t found anyone he wanted to be in a relationship with.

I cradled the cold water bottle in my hands, wondering why I liked that idea so much.

“Our first scrimmage is coming up on Sunday. Can you make it?”

“Sundays are my off day. I don’t have events, and I’ll save the administrative work for when he’s at school. So the schedule works out great for those days.”

“I’m glad you’ll be there.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Not just because it was Hunter’s first game, but I wanted to see Nick in action.

“I can’t wait to see how it goes. I know there’ll be mistakes. We’re still learning. There’s a lot of situational stuff, base running, where to throw, that kids just don’t know yet.”

“Are we playing a good team?”

“They’re new like us. A solid B team.”

“Just don’t tell Hunter and Brody they’re on a B team. They’re convinced they’re going to win every game.”

“That’s a great attitude to have. It’s all about confidence.”

“You never got your shot at the majors?”

“I left before my number was called.”

“Why would you do that?” I felt like all the air had been sucked from my lungs. Everything was telling me playing in the majors had been Nick’s dream. His muscles were tense, his knuckles white as he gripped the water bottle, and his expression sad.

“Austin got a girl pregnant. She was in and out of his life. He had the baby. He was in no position to raise Brody.”

“You helped him out when he was a baby?” Something about that admission pierced my heart.

“My parents did too, but I felt like it was where I was needed. My parents were older. Too old to be on call to take a baby at a moment’s notice. If Austin felt like partying, he’d drop Brody off. As he got older, he was better about taking care of him, or at least hiding that he wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry you gave up your dream, but I understand why you did.”

“Baseball’s competitive. In the county, I was one of the best, but when you get out there, you’re competing with the best of the best.”

“You think you would have made it, don’t you?” I asked him softly. It was in the way he seemed to hold the hurt separate from his words. Like he was creating distance.

“I know I would have. But Austin needed me, and it was what I was used to.”

“You were used to cleaning up Austin’s messes.” Because that was exactly what it was. Austin had a baby but wanted to party, Nick stepped in. Austin committed a crime and went to jail, Nick took over.

“This time, I hope to keep Brody with me. He’s better off.”

“I think so too, but—” I wondered if that was what Nick did. He had some savior complex. He swooped in and saved the day. But he didn’t know how to have a lasting committed relationship. He was the white knight. Always on call, but not there for the long term.

“If things don’t work out—”

“What do you mean, don’t work out?”

“If kids start picking on Brody at school or at baseball, I’ll protect him.”

“So, you’ll what? Move?”

“It’s what I thought about in the beginning, but the counselor told me to keep him here. To wait and see.”

He was waiting for something bad to happen, and he had a contingency plan for when it did. “That’s no way to live your life. Always waiting for something to happen so you’ll pick up and leave.”

Suddenly, Nick looked exhausted.

I wanted to let it go to process it. Instead of pursuing the conversation further, I stood and clapped my hands. “Boys, are you ready for s’mores?”

“Yeah,” they said, dropping their gloves and coming toward us.

“Get what we need from the pantry, and I’ll grab the logs for the fire.”

“You need help?” Nick asked.

“I’ve got it.” I didn’t need him to do things for me. If I let him in, I’d trigger his savior complex. I was a single mom. He’d want to swoop in and save me. I didn’t want that. I wanted a partner. Someone equal.

I grabbed the logs and sticks to roast marshmallows from the side of the house and dropped them inside the makeshift pit. I lit it as I waited for the boys to come out with the supplies we needed.

The boys grabbed the marshmallows and slid them onto the sticks I’d set aside for them. They jostled each other to get into position around the pit.

“Boys, no roughhousing around the fire,” Nick said, his voice firm.

The boys talked about how charred they liked their marshmallows. Hunter liked his burned, and Brody said he liked them partially black.

It was nice to have the two boys there and someone to help. I would have wanted more kids had I been in a committed relationship.

If I’d wanted him to, Nick would have gotten the fire ready. It would be so easy to want that all the time. That was why Nick was dangerous. He’d lure me into a makeshift family. I’d fall in love, and then he’d be gone.

His gaze met mine over the fire, and I wondered if he was having the same thoughts. The boys ate several marshmallows before finally making s’mores.

Nick took the sticks from them, made two more s’mores, and offered one to me. “Thank you.”

When they were finished, they washed their hands and went back to throwing a ball around.

“Are you going to let me look at your books?” Nick said as he popped the last bite of s’more into his mouth.

I was trying to eat mine without making a mess, but it was impossible. Marshmallow stuck to my fingers, my lips, and my pants. “I guess.”

“Could we meet this week?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something too.” I wanted to talk about a physical relationship. I just had to stress that we couldn’t get involved emotionally. Neither of us was looking for something permanent.

He gave me a questioning look, but Brody called him over to pitch to them. We only had a few more minutes of light, so I let him go.