Chapter 5

Five

Abby

I backed my car out of the lot, trying not to admire Nick’s muscles as he picked up the heavy bases and walked them to the storage shed.

I loved how confident Hunter was that he’d thought he’d made the team, but I worried the other parents would think he was bragging. I was very aware I was the rare single mom at baseball. A few others were divorced, but the father was still in the picture. They helped with practices and games.

When my ex, Seth, and I brought Hunter home from the hospital, he’d said he couldn’t handle it. At the time, I wasn’t sure I could handle it either. But I realized quickly Seth was saying he wouldn’t stay and try. He moved out and had been minimally involved in Hunter’s life since.

The most difficult thing to understand was that we’d gone through the stress of fertility treatments, but once our baby was there, he couldn’t handle it. It was hard for me to understand.

He came around occasionally, but I didn’t press him. He wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t handle the responsibilities of being a parent. I knew he had a rough relationship with his own father, but I never thought it would stop him from parenting his own.

“Did you see me pitch?” Hunter asked for the umpteenth time.

I smiled. “You were great.”

“Coach asked me if I liked to pitch.” There was reverence in Hunter’s voice when he spoke about Nick.

“I heard.” I couldn’t get over that his potential coach was my Nick. The one I thought I’d never see again. I thought he was safely inside this memory in my head. That night with him was my one indiscretion. He was supposed to be Ethan’s cousin who lived out of town. Not my son’s baseball coach.

Hunter continued to ramble on about the tryouts, every perceived mistake, and everything he’d done well. I was happy he was so into baseball, but sometimes, I worried he was obsessed.

When he didn’t get onto the first travel team he tried out for, he was devastated. I wanted my child to be happy, and I knew he had potential. He wanted to play year-round and improve. I wasn’t sure what went wrong.

That tryout was markedly different than today’s. There were ten coaches with clipboards assessing each mistake the kids made. It was stressful. Hunter hadn’t felt great about it after he’d walked off the field.

Today, Nick was quick to ask the kids their names, what their experience was, and even if they liked the positions. He was attentive and understanding. He even interrupted the tryouts to give instruction.

“I don’t know why I didn’t get picked for the other team.”

“I told you things happen for a reason. Maybe you didn’t make the other team because there was a better one out there for you.” A better coach. The only thing was that none of the parents seemed to know who Nick was. Where he’d come from or if he’d coached before.

I told myself I wanted to know for my son’s sake, not because I wanted to know everything about my one-night stand.

“Yeah, maybe.”

It still hurt Hunter that he wasn’t chosen for the other team. But there could have been another reason besides he wasn’t good enough. It was obvious the coaches’ kids made the team, and maybe friends of theirs had, too. That was the harsh reality kids didn’t understand yet. Sometimes it wasn’t your ability, but who you knew that mattered.

“Some of those kids had played the year before.” We didn’t know we were supposed to try out for travel the year earlier. Even so, Hunter hadn’t been ready then, and I probably wouldn’t have considered it. I knew it was expensive and time-consuming. I was only considering it now because he was showing potential, and he was eager to learn more.

But I was still worried about how I’d pay for it and swing the schedule. If he got in, I’d need to ask those questions. I hated feeling like I couldn’t provide for my child. I wanted to give him everything. Whether it was a new glove or bat or placing him on the best team. But the reality was, my business wasn’t at that point yet. I needed to reinvest most of my earnings back into the business.

“Hopefully, I get a spot on this team. I liked the coach.”

“I think you have a good shot.” The problem was—I liked Nick. I hadn’t forgotten that night. I replayed it in my mind when I had a quiet moment or was alone in my bed. One night was supposed to be enough, but I longed for more. I’d never wanted to stay in someone’s bed like I had the night he’d asked me to stay. But I wasn’t looking for a relationship or another guy who had the potential to walk away. I couldn’t handle that, and neither could Hunter.

The attractive thing about our night together was that I’d never see him again, and I was free to remember every tantalizing detail. But now that he might be Hunter’s baseball coach, it created a whole host of issues. Would we ignore what happened between us? The only conclusion I came to was that we’d have to.

I couldn’t even say he was a jerk because he’d asked me to stay, and I’d been the one to sneak out.

I drove Hunter to the pizzeria, Giovanni’s, and got a pie to go. Then I drove us home. I was proud of the small house with a yard I’d bought for us with the money from my divorce settlement. Hunter enjoyed playing baseball and camping in a tent in the backyard. It was sufficient, but it could be bigger. Our neighbors probably hated all the balls that ended up in their yard.

But I had to remind myself it was good enough for now. I tried not to give in to the single mom guilt that I wasn’t giving him enough. That I couldn’t be the mom and the dad. I was enough. I had to be because there wasn’t another option.

After we ate, I cleaned up and Hunter searched for the movie Nick recommended. Hunter said it was their homework, so I couldn’t possibly refuse.

When I walked into the living room, Hunter said, “I told Coach I’d already watched The Sandlot movies, so he told me to watch this one.”

We’d searched for every baseball movie we could find, but we hadn’t seen this one. Hunter had even watched A League of Their Own.

My phone rang with an unidentified number, and I wondered if it was a potential client. I had my work number forward to my cell since I was always on the go.

“Hello?” I asked as I moved out of the living room.

“Abby?”

“Nick?” My heart rate picked up.

“I’m calling to offer Hunter a spot on the team.”

It took a few seconds for his words to register. He wasn’t calling for me. He was calling for my son. “Are you serious?”

We’d waited weeks to hear from the other travel team, only to get the “Sorry you weren’t picked” email.

“He’s got talent. I was really impressed with his skills and his attitude today.”

Thinking about how devastated he was not to be picked last time, I said, “He just wants to play baseball.”

Nick was silent for a few seconds before responding, “Not everyone gets to do that. Only a lucky few.”

And I assumed he meant playing in the majors. Hunter wanted that, too, and I had no idea if that was a feasible dream for him. “I know.”

“I’m hoping Hunter thinks this will be a good fit because I’m excited to coach him.”

“I need to talk to him about it. I think he’ll accept, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable accepting on his behalf.”

“Of course. I understand. Call me when you know.”

He’d said to call, not email or text. I would have felt more comfortable limiting our phone conversations. Even though the topic was baseball and Hunter, it felt far too intimate.

Before he hung up, I rushed to add, “I have a few questions. I wasn’t sure what the schedule would be like, the cost …” The coaches from the other travel team told us to expect a payment of two thousand dollars, a commitment to three practices a week, and numerous out-of-state tournaments. I’d figure it out if I had to, but I was hoping for something a little less intense.

“This is a spring team. That means our main season is in the spring, but we still practice two to three times a week. We can schedule scrimmages and tournaments. We get a break in November and December. Then we’ll start up again in January with indoor practices. During our regular season, we’ll have two games a week, Wednesday and Sunday. No doubleheaders.”

“Okay. That sounds doable.” I breathed out a sigh of relief. Most of my events were Friday and Saturday, so I’d be free on Sundays.

“Kids can play a second sport if they’d like, they just can’t play on a second baseball team in the spring.”

I laughed softly. “I can’t even imagine how I’d swing two teams. One is enough for us.”

Nick fell silent as if waiting for me to ask another question.

My stomach twisted because I hated to ask about the money, but I had to know. “How much do you think it will cost?”

“Five hundred to one thousand. It depends how much we fundraise. My mom is active with community groups and loves to fundraise. We’ll have a parents’ meeting once I’ve heard back from all the players, and we can talk more about it then.”

That wasn’t too bad. I could probably swing it.

“If money is an issue, we can talk about it. I wouldn’t want to lose Hunter—”

“No, no. Of course, it’s not an issue. I just like to know so I can plan.” I cringed, hating that I’d made him think I was money conscious. I was, but I didn’t like anyone knowing my business.

“Good.” But his tone sounded like he wasn’t convinced.

Eager to get off the phone, I said, “Thanks for the information. Let me talk to Hunter.”

I hung up without waiting for his response, then startled when I realized Hunter was standing in the doorway to my office.

“I made the team?” His facial expression was so earnest, tears stung my eyes.

“That was Coach Nick calling to offer you a position. He said he’s very excited to coach you.”

Hunter raised his fist. “Yes. I knew it.”

I took a step closer to him. “I’m so proud of you. You picked yourself up and tried again.”

Hunter shook his head. “It was all you, Mom.”

Frowning, I asked, “What are you talking about?”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who gave me that speech about how every pro athlete was told no at least once. That the sign of a good athlete is his or her ability to pick themselves back up and try again.”

“That was a pretty good speech.” I wasn’t sure where it came from except I’d been told I wouldn’t make it as a photographer. Seth had always been against me opening a business, saying it was too risky.

Hunter gave me a look. “And you found this team.”

I waved him off. “A friend mentioned this league. It was a simple internet search.”

“Thanks, Mom. You’re always there for me.”

I hugged him, so he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to escape. “I just want you to be happy.” After I pulled myself together, I drew back and asked, “Should I call him back and tell him you said yes?”

“Say yes,” Hunter said before disappearing into the living room.

I pulled up his number and added him to my contacts as Hunter’s Baseball Coach, not Nick. It seemed like an important distinction. Then I dialed his number, my heart racing like I was calling a boy in high school to ask him out.

“Abby?” Nick answered, sounding slightly out of breath.

What was he doing before he answered the phone? Then a thought entered my mind that I hadn’t considered before. Was he married when we were together? He had a child. I swallowed over the lump in my throat. “Hunter’s excited to be part of your team.”

There was a slight pause before he answered, “That’s great.”

Did he like the idea of us being forced to spend more time together, or was he regretting his decision? I wanted to thank him for not letting our past get in the way, but I didn’t think he’d appreciate it after his reaction earlier.

“What positions has he played?” The deep timbre of his voice rumbled in my chest.

“He played shortstop, center field, and pitcher. Sometimes catcher, but I don’t think he wants to do that anymore.”

“I have a few kids who could play short and outfield. He said he’s played first, but those are specialized positions. I need him for pitcher.”

“How does he compare with the other pitchers?” I asked, not able to help myself.

“He’s right up there.” He paused as if he wasn’t sure he’d should say anything else. “He’s in the mix.”

I thought he’d been about to say something else, like he was the best, but he hadn’t. And I didn’t blame him—though I was curious. If Hunter was talented, I should let him pursue baseball despite the time commitment and cost. That was what a two-parent family would do.

And it was better to ask about his thoughts on baseball than how he was in bed or if he ever thought about me. Why had Nick come? Why couldn’t he have stayed away? Then I’d be able to use the one-night stand memories whenever I wanted. Now, I needed to keep those errant thoughts and fantasies in check. The answers to those questions wouldn’t get me anywhere.

“The league we’re in is all about teaching kids the sport while teaching responsibility.”

“That sounds good.” Hunter needed more male figures in his life. He had my father and Brooke’s boyfriend, Ben, but it wasn’t the same as a father figure.

I wanted to ask if we could keep our one night to ourselves, but it didn’t feel right with Hunter in the other room.

“I’ll schedule a parent meeting as soon as I pick the rest of the team.”

“You know, I was surprised to hear from you so soon. You’d said midweek.”

“That gives me more time to hear back from my first picks.”

Hunter would be pleased that after not making the first team, he was the first pick on Nick’s. I’d made the right decision in researching other options for Hunter. It was good to feel wanted, and the overall program sounded like it could be good for him.

“You know, this means we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

I was very aware of that fact, and I’d need to get my attraction to him under control. “Hunter wants to play baseball. I won’t screw this up for him.”

There were many times I wondered if it was my fault that Seth left, but over the years, he’d assured me it was all him.

Nick let out a breath. I don’t know what he’d been hoping for, but I couldn’t date Hunter’s coach. That would be the worst thing I could do.

Nick cleared his throat. “I have a few other calls to make.”

“Thank you,” I said, encapsulating our night together, wanting Hunter on his team, and respecting my wishes in my appreciation. I wish my life was different, but longing for things I couldn’t have never got me anywhere.

Ever since Hunter was born and Seth walked out, I’d had to be realistic. Seth wasn’t coming back, stepping up and being the father Hunter needed. I would be the only parent Hunter could count on. It was exhausting at times, but it was what he needed. And it was a good situation for Hunter. I’d meant what I’d said to Nick; I wouldn’t do anything to mess it up.

“Welcome to the team,” Nick said before hanging up.

They weren’t the words I wanted to hear, but they were what Hunter needed to hear and that’s what mattered.

I set my phone aside and settled on the couch next to Hunter.

“What did Coach say?”

“He said he needs you at pitcher.”

Hunter nodded like it’s what he wanted to hear. “I love pitching.”

“He has players who can play shortstop and outfield.”

Hunter grinned. “He hasn’t seen me yet.”

“You tried out for him.” I didn’t want him to be overly cocky.

“You can’t see everything in two hours.”

“Are you saying you’re better than your other teammates?” I asked, wanting to keep him in check. Confidence was good, but comparing yourself to teammates wasn’t.

Hunter shifted on the couch. “I’m good, Mom.”

I ruffled his hair. “You’re part of a team now.”

He pointed at the TV. “In the movie, the dad said if you aren’t practicing, someone else is. And if you meet them on the field, they’ll beat you.”

I raised a brow. That sounded a little intense.

“Will you catch with me? I need to practice.”

“You already played for hours at the tryouts. And when you came home, you threw against the pitch back.”

“I want to get better.”

I should encourage his attitude. It was the same one I tapped into when he had homework he needed to do. “I’ll get my glove.”

It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy baseball or playing with him, but at times, I wished there was another adult or even a sibling to help out. I always had photos to edit and dinner to cook. There was never anyone else to step in to lighten my load.

I sighed, letting any irritation slip away. It was just Hunter and me. That had been our truth for eight years, and it wasn’t going to change. Besides, I liked being the person he counted on.