Chapter 8

Eight

Nick

I worked from home as an actuary for an insurance company and did bookkeeping and taxes on the side to keep my brain active. When I worked, I quickly lost track of time, immersing myself in the numbers, charts, and graphs.

I loved my job. But I’d almost forgotten that in a few minutes eleven children, their siblings, and their parents would descend on my home.

Brody arrived home a short while ago and was outside throwing against the pitch back. I was renting the home because it had a pool, a basketball court with lights, and plenty of yard for Brody to play baseball.

I think I was trying to make up for where his father currently resided. It wouldn’t fix his wounds, but I hoped it would help ease his transition. And the other kids on the team should have fun while I spoke to the parents.

I closed out my work and switched over to the agenda I’d written for the team meeting. It was seven pages typed. I’d probably gone overboard but I wanted to be a good coach. It was my chance to prove I could provide stability for Brody.

The slider opened in the kitchen, and Brody asked, “Where are the snacks?”

“There’s food in the pantry,” I absentmindedly responded while reviewing through my list.

“You were supposed to provide food for the meeting.”

I paused and looked over at him. I had promised that, hadn’t I? “I forgot to go to the store.”

“No shit.”

I gave him a sharp look. “Brody. Language.”

He rolled his eyes at me.

Standing, I said, “I don’t care what the rules were when you lived with your dad. It’s different with me.”

His lips pursed. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” The last thing I needed was him swearing in front of the other parents and them questioning my fitness to be a good role model and coach. So far, no one had put together that Brody’s father was in jail, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Brody opened the pantry door. “But what are we going to do about snacks?”

“I’m sure we have something.” I pulled out a container of muffins I’d bought from the store and some fruit. I hadn’t gone shopping for the week, so the options were slim.

I set the food on the dining room table. It didn’t look like much.

Brody shook his head. “That’s not enough.”

“Should I order pizza?” I asked.

Brody nodded. “Get Giovanni’s.”

I had no idea what Giovanni’s was, but hopefully, it was a pizzeria that delivered. I scrolled on my phone to find the online menu and quickly ordered five large pizzas with two-liter containers of sodas. That should be enough.

As soon as I finalized the order, the doorbell rang.

Brody let the first family in and led them to the backyard. As I hoped, the kids quickly took off for the basketball court. The pool had a safety fence around it, but I’d need to keep an eye on it.

After introducing myself to the parents, I grabbed the food. “Let’s go outside.”

There were enough chairs and tables we could meet on the patio, and I could still see what the kids were doing. It was a warm night, so I didn’t need to worry about the weather.

“We should hire a sitter to watch the siblings during games,” Chase’s dad said as he watched the kids run around the backyard.

“That’s not a bad idea.” Could I make small talk with the kids’ parents, knowing they would put two and two together and realize Brody’s dad was no good? I’d left this town because people tended to think I was the same as him.

I tried to shake off the uneasy feeling when I heard the doorbell again and went to welcome more parents. For the next twenty minutes, there was an influx of families arriving. I couldn’t help but notice that Abby and Hunter hadn’t arrived. I hoped she hadn’t changed her mind. Not only was Hunter a vital part of the team, but I wanted an excuse to see her.

I shot off a quick text asking if everything was okay and told myself it was what any good coach would do, but I wasn’t sure that was true. I was hyperaware of Abby. No one on the team could find out or else they’d accuse me of playing favorites.

Hopefully, after watching Hunter practice a few times, they’d see he was talented and would have made the team regardless of who his mother was.

I grabbed my laptop and set up on the outside table. “It looks most of us are here. Let’s get started.”

The first point on my agenda was my qualifications to coach and my plan for the season. I focused on the words in front of me and pushed out my concern for Abby and Hunter. She was probably just running late.

“I’m Coach Nick. I’ve been playing baseball since I was a kid.” I went through my history, then added, “I’m going to teach your kids the fundamentals. We have the fall and winter season to learn them before games start.”

The doorbell rang faintly inside. I rolled back my shoulders and stood. “Let me get that.”

Opening the door, I let out a breath of relief. It was Hunter and Abby. “Oh, good. You’re here.”

Hunter came inside first.

“Good to see you again, Hunter. You been practicing?”

His eyes lit up. “Every chance I get.”

Abby smiled sheepishly. “He watched that movie you suggested. Twelve , or something like that?”

“That’s right.” I was pleased Hunter had taken my advice.

Hunter paused and looked at me. “There’s that line in there about your competition practicing when you’re not.”

I knew that quote well. I’d repeated it to myself when I was in school. But I knew my obsession with baseball, pushed by my father, wasn’t healthy. I didn’t want Hunter to burn out. “Practice is good, but so is rest and eating the right foods to fuel your body.”

“And drinking water,” Abby added. “He gets so into whatever he’s doing, he forgets to eat or drink.”

“That sounds like me,” I said. “Why don’t you join the kids in the backyard. I have a basketball court.”

Hunter paused at the slider. “I thought the email said you had wiffle ball set up.”

“I do. Go see if you can convince the rest of the kids to join in.” It figured Hunter didn’t care about the pool or the basketball court.

Hunter stood there, hesitant for a minute. Brody must have seen him in the window because he ran over and opened the door for him. “Want to play?”

Hunter nodded and followed Brody to the field to grab the bat and balls.

Abby held up her phone, so I could see the screen. “Sorry I didn’t respond to your text. I was driving.”

I waved her off. “I figured. Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you already start?”

“We’re outside. You just missed my introduction, which I already gave you on the phone the other day.

She tensed, and I figured she was wondering if she was getting special treatment.

“Don’t worry. I’m treating you like any other parent.” I kept my voice low in case someone came in from outside and overheard us talking.

Her shoulders lowered. “Sorry. I’m probably overthinking this.”

I wanted to know if she was thinking about our night as much as I was. If she couldn’t stop thinking about it. If she wanted a repeat.

We stood there for a beat too long staring at each other. I was very conscious of the rising of her chest with her breathing. Was it more erratic than normal? Was she as affected by my presence as I was by hers?

“I should get back to the meeting.”

Outside, Abby said, “Oh, I didn’t bring a suit for Hunter.”

“The water’s too cold for swimming anyway. There’s enough for them to do that they won’t miss it,” I said as we walked outside.

I rubbed the back of my neck as I returned to my seat to alleviate the tingle I got whenever she was near.

“There’s drinks and snacks. The pizza’s on its way.”

The table looked empty with my meager offerings.

I waited for Abby to sit in the empty seat toward the back of the group before continuing. I went through our options for uniforms, showing pictures of the colors and materials. There was a lengthy discussion of the issues of color piping when kids bought their own pants. Due to the cost and in the interest of uniformity, we finally concluded each player would purchase their own gray and black pants without piping so everyone would look the same.

Then I went over the schedule for fall, winter, and the spring seasons, including the locations for practice and games.

When I’d gotten through half of my list, the doorbell rang. Another parent offered to get it when I said it was most likely the pizza. We breaked so that everyone could grab a plate and a few slices before getting back into it.

I asked the parents questions about what the hoped to get from the season. How serious they were about tournaments, scrimmages, and traveling. After I noted everyone’s comments, I talked about my intentions for the team. The reality that we were a solid B team. My job was to teach them the fundamentals and build them into a better team. So that in a year or two, they’d be an A team.

When I finished my itinerary for the meeting, a parent asked, “There’s no crying in baseball, isn’t that right?”

“That’s a tough question to answer. I might cry if Brody gets a homer or something else impressive.” I was a softie when it came to that kid, and I loved baseball. I might tear up if he did something spectacular. I couldn’t rule it out.

The other parents chuckled at my response.

My gaze met Abby’s surprised one. Was that not the answer she was expecting?

I needed to refocus on the agenda. “Our first practice is this Sunday at two. We’ll practice on Wednesdays and Sundays through the end of October. If it rains, I’ll move it inside at the batting cages.”

Abby looked tense, but she didn’t ask any questions. I wondered if she was worried about making the practices. I’d have to mention helping her out again. It looked like she was the only single parent on the team. She wouldn’t want me to single her out, so I’d have to ask her when we were by ourselves.

When I was finished talking, the parents broke off into groups to introduce themselves. A couple of parents had questions for me. Norm was more interested in bragging about the progress Jackson was having with the pitching coach he’d hired for his son than asking any questions about how the season would go.

It was late, and the next day was a school day, so parents started to gather their children and say their good-byes. For the most part, the parents seemed excited to start the season. I was encouraged by the positive energy of the group.

Abby stood by herself at the edge of the deck watching Hunter play wiffle ball. “Did you have any questions?”

She sucked in a breath as if she was startled by my question. “I don’t think so.”

“Are you still worried about the time commitment?”

She relaxed slightly. “A little, yeah. I don’t always know my schedule ahead of time. I have family I can ask for help, but I don’t like to abuse that.”

“I’m sure your family doesn’t mind, and I’m always willing to help.” My heart clenched at the idea of her pulling Hunter from the team. He was a great player, and I saw his potential. He was determined like me. But it wasn’t him I felt the loss of—it was her.

I never thought I’d see her again, and now, I’d be seeing her a couple of times a week. Sure, I’d be busy with the kids, but I was looking forward to getting to know her better.

“I’ll manage.”

She didn’t tack it on at the end of her sentence, but I heard the words she left unsaid: I always do . She was used to relying on herself. Whether it was by necessity or a strong sense of independence. I admired that about her.

“Just know you have help.”

One of the other dads, Neil, who mentioned during the meeting he was an umpire for his older son’s league, stepped closer to us. “I think we live close if you need anyone to help with Hunter.”

Abby smiled. “That’s so kind. Thank you.”

I watched while they exchanged numbers, uncomfortable with the idea of some other guy helping her. He was married, but I wanted to be the one who helped her.

“I’ll gather everyone’s information and share it in case anyone could use similar help,” I said.

“That’s a great idea,” Abby said.

Neil drifted away and into another conversation.

Abby stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Whatever you do—please don’t require snacks at games.”

“Huh?” I wasn’t versed in the usual goings-on at games since this was my first foray with it.

She smiled like she held a secret. “There’s always one parent who insists on a snack sign-up.”

“I don’t get it. Why do kids need someone to bring snacks? Can’t their parents feed their kids?” I asked.

Abby rolled her eyes. “There was even one who insisted the kids needed snacks at practice.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I was enjoying this private moment with her. She stood close and had lowered her voice, and it felt like we were sharing something more intimate than we were.

“Just please, don’t give in if someone mentions it. I’m lucky I can get Hunter to practice with his gear. I don’t need the extra responsibility of providing snacks for the whole team.”

My heart clenched at her admission. “Consider it done. No snacks.”

She laughed. “Thank you. It’s a little thing, but—”

We exchanged a smile, and it felt good to bond over something as mundane as snacks. A warmth rushed through me.

Abby stepped back. “Well, I should get going.”

It was getting dark. There were only a couple of parents left.

Abby called Hunter over, and I walked the rest of the group out of the house and to the front sidewalk.

“My car’s farther away,” Abby said as the rest of the parents herded their kids into their vehicles.

The houses in my neighborhood were farther away from each other, and there weren’t any streetlights.

“I’ll walk you.”

For once, Abby didn’t insist she could do it herself, which I appreciated. I fell into step with her while Hunter bounded ahead into the dark.

“I don’t even know how he can see. It’s so dark,” Abby nodded toward Hunter as he threw a ball into the air and caught it in his glove.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets, feeling a little awkward. It was different than talking to her on the phone the other day. We’d been focused on baseball. In person, it felt more intimate. Like we were walking home after a date.

“Does he practice a lot?” I wanted to know more but figured the safest thing to ask about was baseball. The reason we were forced together.

“He’s always throwing a ball against the wall or a pitch back. Swinging a bat in the house. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have any siblings.”

“You let him throw a ball against the wall inside your house?” I asked.

“It’s a soft one. It’s not ideal, but it helps with his need to constantly be in motion.”

“If he wants to get in extra reps, bring him over. Brody’s a catcher. Hunter’s a pitcher. It only makes sense they work together and develop a relationship.” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought that before. It was the perfect excuse to see her more.

“We’ll see,” she said, turning to face me as we stopped in front of her SUV.

Hunter climbed into the backseat. “Later, Coach.”

“Keep practicing.”

“I will,” Hunter said before he closed the door.

“He’s a good kid.”

“He is.” Her lips twisted, and I wondered if she was thinking about how his father wasn’t in the picture and didn’t have a hand in how he’d turned out.

There were a number of things I could have done. Opened her door. Insisted she let Hunter come over to play with Brody. Instead, I stepped back. I was a patient man. I could wait until the timing aligned in my favor.

“Have a good night,” she said as she opened the door and slid inside.

“You too.” I waved at Hunter, who was bobbing his head to some song that had come on the radio.

Right now, Abby was wary. She’d probably written off all men because of her ex or the fact that she was raising her child alone. I’d let her see that there were good guys out there. I just hoped she didn’t friend-zone me before I made my move.