9. Chapter 9

Chapter nine

Grady

“All right, boys. Line it up,” commands Ryan Carter, the new head coach of the baseball team, as a group of teenage boys all make their way over to us. Once the chatter dies down, he continues. “We’re gonna set up the 1-2-3 drill, but pitchers, you’re going to be working with Coach Reynolds today.”

My eyes meet Chase’s with laser focus.

I’m not going to let our unorthodox meeting deter me from teaching the kid something about the game. That won’t even be the last of our challenging interactions. Eventually, we’ll have to discuss how I’m going to be in his life beyond this season and long after he’s worked off his punishment with me. But I can’t focus on that right now. I’m eager to see what he can do on the field.

To his side, Trent and Jared snicker, so I shift my focus in their direction, instantly extinguishing their cockiness. Ryan and I already discussed the incident at the garage, and those two boys are doing their own community service through the sheriff’s department and running extra drills after practice. Their punishment starts today, so I’m sure their amusement with the situation will diminish considerably by tomorrow.

“You ready for this?” Ryan asks as the boys disperse and Chase and two other pitchers head to the mound with a bucket of balls. The team’s catcher, Franklin, takes his place at home plate, doing a few stretches before he crouches low.

“As ready as I’m going to be.” I’ve pitched in front of millions of people, but the pressure I feel right now is nothing compared to that. This is why I’ve been avoiding coaching.

What if I’m horrible? What if I don’t live up to everyone’s expectations? What if these kids only see a washed-up old man who had his shot at playing professionally and ruined it out of stubbornness?

“You’ve got this. Don’t stress about being a teacher. Just do what feels natural, and they will learn. You know the game, so let that speak for itself.” Patting me on the shoulder, Ryan heads to the other side of the field where the boys are grabbing equipment for their drill. I take a deep breath before striding to the mound where Chase, Nathan, and Max are waiting.

“All right. Since we haven’t worked together yet, I want to see what you guys have got.” Technically, this week is Chase’s tryout for the team as well, so I definitely need to assess whether he has the talent to play with varsity or JV. He’s only a freshman, but we spoke to his former coaches down in Georgia and they praised his talents. If he can take a starting spot from one of our juniors, it’s going to make his chances of fitting in on the team even harder.

I know from personal experience.

But once they see him play, the boys will shut up quickly if he helps them win.

I know that from personal experience as well .

“Nathan, you’re up first.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I settle into my spot so I can study his movements. He’s not bad, but he’s not very controlled. He’s tightening too much in his shoulders, which is costing him speed. After Nathan throws about a dozen pitches of varying accuracy, I let Max have a go. Max has more control, but he’s inconsistent. One pitch is right on target, and the next is nowhere near the plate.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, Chase,” I say as Scottie’s son shoots me a nervous glance before taking the mound. He takes his time agreeing with the catcher’s call, but when he winds up and lets the ball loose, I swear, I see myself twenty years ago.

I clear my throat, not wanting to get too excited. “Again.”

I keep him up there for longer than the other two boys, which they pick up on sooner quickly. After a good fifteen minutes pass, the boys get antsy.

Max chimes in first. “I think you should let us pitch again, Coach. I mean, everyone needs time to warm up, right?”

Chase looks between me and Max, and since I don’t want to ruffle feathers just yet, I agree to let Max have another shot to prove himself. But he stands on the mound and tries way too hard the second time around, only building up his frustration. Nathan also takes another turn, but at the end, I think all four of us can agree that Chase has more talent in his pinky finger than the two juniors who probably walked onto this team.

I hear Ryan call his whistle from the other side of the field, requesting the entire team to gather around, so I gesture for the boys to jog over as I start to clean up the balls from the pitching practice. I shoot a text off to Ryan to let him know he has a new starting pitcher.

Once everyone is gathered around, Ryan makes an announcement. “One thing you all need to remember is that your behavior and choices are not just a reflection on yourselves, but on this team as well. They’re also a reflection on us as coaches.” He gestures between me, himself, and the other assistant coach, Brad. “But I want everyone to understand that your spot on this team isn’t guaranteed. Moving forward, there will be a no-strike policy.”

“What’s that?” one of the players asks as I take my place next to Ryan, inserting myself into the conversation now.

“It means you get no more chances. You screw up? You’re off the team.” He shoots his glare at Chase’s accomplices to the break-in at my shop. Their eyes find the ground as the other members of the team murmur amongst themselves. I remember what it was like to be in high school—rumors spread like wildfire. And with cell phones now? I can only imagine how many people in town and beyond know about the mess these boys got into.

“With that being said, I would like to announce that the newest member of our team, Chase Warner, will also be the starting pitcher in next week’s game.”

Nathan and Max instantly tense up, but Chase stands tall next to them. It’s good to know he’s aware of the talent he possesses. His mom would be proud, especially since she always advised me to own mine.

“Now, Chase, Jared, and Trent, you boys are staying after, but the rest of you, take three laps around the field and then we’re done for the day.”

The boys take off to rush through their run, while Ryan and I stare down at the three delinquents in front of us.

Ryan rubs his palms together with a pleased smile on his face. “Now, there’s nothing I love more than serving punishment, especially when it’s due. You three have no idea who you were messing with.”

“Oh, we knew,” Jared mutters under his breath .

“Say it so we can hear you, son,” I bark, reminding myself that he’s a minor and I can’t touch him. But cocky boys like him—I remember them well. His insecurities are lurking right underneath the surface and that’s why he convinced Chase to do what they did. He felt threatened, and with good reason, it seems. But it doesn’t excuse his behavior.

“It was nothing,” Jared replies, avoiding my eyes.

I take a step closer to him, his eyes widen, and then I lower my voice when I say, “It’s not too late for me to press charges. I hope you realize that. I’m trying to do you a favor, so if I were you, I’d shut your mouth and do what you’re told for the next hour and remind yourself never to do something like that again.”

He visibly swallows. “The next hour?”

Ryan chuckles. “Oh yeah. We’re not stopping until each one of you pukes.”

Huh. Maybe this coaching gig might be a little fun after all.

***

“Scottland Warner?” The nurse calls out from the door that separates the waiting room from the office and exam rooms. My knees haven’t stopped bouncing since I sat down, but part of that is because I’m at my kid’s first doctor’s appointment, and the mother of my child still isn’t here.

“Scottland Warner!” She’s louder this time, peering around the room.

I raise my hand like a kindergartener. “Um, hi.”

The nurse looks me up and down. “No offense, Grady, but I don’t think you’re the pregnant woman I’m looking for. ”

I chuckle as I stand from my seat and move closer to her. Lowering my voice, I say, “I’m the father. Scottie isn’t here yet and she’s not answering her phone.”

“I see.” She peers down at her chart. “Well…”

The door chimes as the woman in question rushes into the office, swiveling her head around chaotically before her eyes land on me. “Oh my God! Sorry I’m late.” Blowing her curls out of her face, she strides up to the nurse and me in a business-style dress that hugs all of her curves, stealing the breath from my lungs and making my dick harden in seconds.

I’ve seen Scottie in a uniform on the pitching mound and dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, but I’ve never seen her like this. Just the sight of her dressed like she’s in charge makes me want to get sent to the principal’s office so I can see what kind of punishment she can dish out. Or better yet, let’s reverse the roles and I can punish her for denying what’s between us all these years later.

Focus, Grady. You can revisit that little fantasy later .

“Well, let’s get you back here then.” The nurse gestures for us to follow her, but I hold the door open so Scottie can go ahead of me.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” As she walks ahead of me, giving me the perfect view of her ass in that tight dress, I remember what that ass looked like bent over in front of me all those months ago.

I wonder if that instance was the time that did it, the one that knocked her up—because my memory likes to venture back to that night frequently, and how that orgasm felt like my soul was leaving my fucking body.

Perhaps that was the moment when our souls were creating a new one.

The nurse stops us in the hall to take Scottie’s vitals. I watch her cringe as she steps on the scale and takes in her weight, rolling her eyes when she steps off and slides her heels back on to continue down the hallway.

“Here we are.” The nurse opens a door to an exam room and motions for Scottie to take a seat on the bed. “We need you to undress from the waist down and cover yourself with the sheet.”

“I know. This isn’t my first rodeo.” Scottie places her purse on an empty chair against the wall, irritation lacing her words.

The nurse doesn’t even react. “The doctor will be in to see you shortly.”

As soon as the door clicks shut, Scottie looks at me. “Do you mind turning around, please?”

“What?”

“I need to take off my underwear and get on the table, and I don’t need you staring at me while I do it.”

I close the distance between us, loving how she has to crane her neck back to meet my gaze. “Scottie, you do realize I’ve seen your pussy and your ass, right? In fact, I know them intimately.”

I swear I see flashes of our night together shine through her eyes before she visibly swallows and takes a step back. “This is different. I’m…I’m in a vulnerable state.”

Lowering my voice, I reply, “Having my face nose deep in your pussy wasn’t vulnerable enough for you?”

Her eyes widen. “Grady…”

But before I say something else, I remind myself that pushing Scottie isn’t going to get me anywhere, even though all I want to do in this moment is bend her over the exam table and remind her of how perfectly her pussy grips my cock, how insane our connection was and still is, and how her coming back to Carrington Cove couldn’t have been a coincidence.

It’s the resolution I came to when we spoke the other night at her house, when I asked her about us, and she blew it off like our night together meant nothing.

Well, I call bullshit. I could read her like a fucking playbook. She was pushing me away because she’s fucking scared. But the thing is—I’m scared too, of a lot of things.

The one thing I do know, though, is that wanting her is not something I should be scared of. In fact, it’s the only piece of our puzzle I’m sure of.

Before that night, I had no romantic interest in women, but that’s because none of them were her. She’s always been the one that broke the mold for me, something that is so blatantly clear now that we’re back in each other’s lives. Now, I need to play this right to prove to her that we belong together—not just because we’re having a child together, but because our child could never be a mistake.

I take a step back and hold my hands up in surrender. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll turn around.”

She watches me cautiously as I slowly face the wall, shoving my hands in my pockets as the sound of her movements filters behind me.

“I can’t believe I’ve already gained seven pounds,” she mumbles as I hear the rustle of her clothes and the crinkle of the paper sheet.

“You look perfect, Scottie.”

She scoffs. “Easy for you to say. You’re the father. You aren’t growing a human being, and your body looks like it was carved from granite.”

I clench my jaw, waiting for her to finish covering herself so I can refute her statement, even though her comment about my body was slightly revealing. But I can’t focus on that right now .

With a peek over my shoulder, I see her smooth the paper over her legs, so I take that as my cue to close the distance between us again. Peering down at her as she lies back on the exam chair, I make sure she’s looking at me before I speak again. “You’re right. I’m not growing a human. But you are, and that’s such an incredible fucking thing. Hell, reading about everything your body goes through while pregnant makes my mind spin.” I stroke her cheek with my finger, and for a second, I swear she leans into my touch before she catches herself and looks away. “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling, but just know that no matter how your body changes, it will never change how sexy I find you.”

Her eyes whip back to mine, widening just as the doctor knocks on the door. “Is everyone decent?” she asks through the door before Scottie answers her with a squeaky reply.

“Yes. Come in.”

A woman who looks about the same age as my mom shuffles through the door, pushing her glasses up her nose before glancing at both of us. “Good afternoon, you two. How are we doing today?”

“Great,” I reply as Scottie says, “A little nauseous.”

The doctor laughs. “Well, that’s to be expected momma-to-be.” She casts her gaze to me, dropping her eyes down my entire body before looking away and clearing her throat. Yeah, I get that reaction from women a lot. “I’m Dr. Rivera, and I’m honored to be caring for you during your pregnancy.” She smiles at Scottie and then glances down at her chart, flipping the page over. “Now, it seems you’re about twelve weeks along?”

“Yes, based on my calculations,” Scottie answers.

Dr. Rivera’s eyes dart to me once more. “And I take it this is Dad?”

“No, I’m her brother,” I deadpan .

The doctor glares at me slightly just as Scottie smacks my arm. “Grady!”

Dr. Rivera chuckles and then sets the chart down on the counter before wheeling over a machine that has a small screen and attached keyboard sitting right underneath it with far too many buttons to make sense. “It’s okay. I appreciate sarcasm, but for the sake of Scottland and your unborn child, answering questions with honesty will allow me to give her the best care.”

“Noted. My apologies.”

Dr. Rivera does a few routine examinations, looking under the flimsy paper sheet covering Scottie’s legs, and for a moment, I’m jealous that she’s got a front-row seat to Scottie’s pussy right now.

Fuck, something is really wrong with me.

Once the doctor is finished examining her cervix, Scottie lifts her dress above the sheet to expose her stomach. Dr. Rivera squeezes clear gel onto Scottie’s skin and then takes a handheld device, moving along her abdomen as an image begins to form on the screen.

“Since you’re further along, we should be able to see something on an abdominal ultrasound.” She rubs the device around, clicking a few buttons until a white, kidney bean shape appears in the middle of the screen, followed by a rhythmic whooshing sound that fills the room and a flicker in the center of the figure.

“Is that…” I start to ask, but the words die on my tongue as the image of my child comes into view. I move closer to Scottie on the reclining bed, reaching for her hand instinctively as the sound of our child’s heartbeat echoes around us. “Holy shit.” I swear my heartbeat thrashes faster than the one on the monitor. I know how this all works but seeing and hearing it just makes this all more fucking real .

There’s a human—a tiny, fragile human growing inside the woman beside me. Suddenly, the world as I know it feels like it’s shifted, with Scottie and this little baby becoming the center of mine.

“Definitely twelve weeks,” Dr. Rivera says, taking snapshots as the image moves on the screen, pulling me back to reality. Our baby puts on a show, kicking and wiggling, making Scottie laugh.

“Already full of energy,” she murmurs, garnering my attention. When my eyes find her face, her eyes are full of moisture. I squeeze her hand, forcing her to look at me.

“That’s our baby, Scottie.”

Her smile is small, but it’s there. “I know.” Our eyes lock, and I’m held captive and speechless, forgetting we aren’t alone until the doctor speaks, breaking the trance.

“Everything looks great, Scottland. Measurements are right on track. Your due date appears to be around September thirteenth.” The sound of a printer fills the room as the doctor extracts a few pictures from the bottom of the machine and hands them to Scottie. “Here’s a keepsake. You’re doing a fantastic job growing that baby. Just keep up with your bloodwork, try to get in movement and plenty of water, and rest when you can. You are older now than during your last pregnancy, and while I wouldn’t classify you as high risk, your body is going to react differently with age, so just be prepared for that.”

“What about gestational diabetes?” I chime in before Scottie can say anything. “I know the risk increases with age.”

Dr. Rivera’s eyes flick over to mine as she takes her gloves off. “As long as Scottie eats a balanced diet, she should be fine. Routine blood work will let us know if there’s cause for concern.”

Scottie glares at me, but I don’t give a shit. I have a right to ask questions too. “Thank you. ”

The doctor grabs the chart and makes a few notes before moving to the door. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you back in about four weeks. Take care, you two.”

She leaves the room and Scottie turns to me once more. “I take it you’ve been reading?”

“I’m on book number two, Scottie,” I reply, holding up two fingers. “I told you, I’m in this.”

She gestures for me to turn around so she can get dressed again, and I oblige, even though I think it’s bullshit. But one obstacle at a time. “I appreciate the concern, Grady, but…”

“But nothing, Scottie. You and this baby are my responsibility now,” I grate out, trying to keep my composure, though my pulse is thundering in my ears. Seeing my baby just now caused something in me to snap.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” she murmurs so softly that I almost miss it.

“What do you mean?” I turn around to face her, but she shakes her head, stepping over to the chair where she left her purse earlier.

“Nothing, Grady. Let’s just go.”

Not wanting to fight with her or increase the tension between us any further, I hold the door open for her and follow her out of the doctor’s office.

I walk her to her car, opening the door for her as she sets her purse inside. “So…” she starts as she spins to face me.

“That was fucking wild, Scottie,” I breathe out, the image of my child imprinted on my brain. I shove my hands in my pockets so I don’t reach out and smash my lips to hers.

God, I just want to fucking kiss her, hold her, and put her in a giant bubble so nothing happens to either of them. If this is how I’m going to feel until this baby is born, I might just have a fucking heart attack before I turn thirty-six.

She chuckles. “I know. I forgot how intense that feels. It’s been so long since I had Chase. It’s all coming back to me with each milestone.”

“Shouldn’t we find out the sex at the next appointment?” I ask. “You’ll be sixteen weeks then.”

“We can, if the baby cooperates.” She licks her lips and tilts her head up at me. “Do you want to know?”

“I mean, I think it would make it easier to plan. What do you want?”

She rubs her stomach, the small bump now more noticeable to me after seeing it during the ultrasound. And fuck, it just makes her sexier. “I don’t know. Part of me thinks it would be fun to wait, but the control freak in me doesn’t think I could.”

We share a laugh. “Okay, we’ll find out then. I think it would ease some of the stress of the unknown.”

“Okay.”

“What about circumcision?”

“Um…”

“Well, if it’s a boy, I don’t want him battling with a turtleneck for the rest of his life, you know?” I say jokingly, but I’m actually serious. “You know that I’m circumcised, but…”

She holds a hand up. “No need to go any further. I agree, okay?”

I nod. “Good, but I don’t think I could be in the room for that. I just might be the one to throw up if that’s the case.”

She covers her mouth, laughing. “Am I going to have to worry about you getting sick throughout this whole pregnancy?”

“No, just with that.” I visibly shudder and resist the urge to reach down and cover my dick .

“Normally, the father should be concerned about the mother throwing up.”

“I am.” I reach out and stroke her arm, catching her off guard. But I retract my touch just as quickly.

Small steps, Grady .

Clearing my throat, I take my keys out of my pocket. “Okay then. Well…”

“Yeah.” She brushes her curls back from her face. “I need to get back to work.”

“I’ll see you later though, right?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’ll have Chase there by six.”

Nodding, I start walking to my truck backwards, keeping my eyes on Scottie. “Keep growing our baby, Scottie,” I say as primitive pleasure races through me.

She rolls her eyes at me. “Like I have a choice.”

Yeah, you do, Scottie. You have the choice to let me in , I say to myself.

And as I drive back to the garage, I think about how I need to make her see that. But I know that I can’t figure this out on my own.

Operation Get My Baby’s Momma to Give Me a Chance is underway, and it’s time to call in reinforcements.

***

“We can talk more about it on Friday,” my sister says through the phone as I sit in the office of the garage, waiting for Scottie and Chase to show up. Astrid insisted that I call her today after the doctor’s appointment and let her know how it went, but I barely got two free seconds after returning to the garage before I had to help a few of the technicians with their jobs .

“Okay. I’m gonna hold you to that, though.”

She chuckles. “I promise. I just have to get this order done before I leave here, and the phone is still ringing with last minute orders.”

Easter is this week, so the bakery is swamped. “Okay, see you at Lilly’s dance class.”

“Thanks again for taking her.”

“Not a problem.”

We end the call and I toss my phone on the counter in front of me, letting out a long sigh. My niece takes dance classes two nights a week, and occasionally, my sister asks me to take her until she can get there to pick her up. I don’t mind. Hell, I actually love watching my favorite little girl in the world twirl around in a tutu. But now I realize that being a dance dad might just be in my future.

If we have a little girl, will she be interested in dance? Or will she be a tomboy I can teach how to throw and hit a baseball better than any boy her age? If we have a son, will he love the game like I did, or will he prefer football or video games?

Will my child be shy or outgoing? Quiet or loud?

Visions swirl through my mind at an alarming rate, accompanied by the memory of what my baby looked like on the screen just hours ago.

The sound of a car door slamming shut outside interrupts my thoughts, and I stand from the chair to peek through the blinds.

Scottie is saying something to Chase as they walk up to the garage, and Chase looks less than pleased to be here. By the time I’m done with him, he won’t be any happier.

The chime above the door rings out. “Grady?”

“Right here,” I reply instantly, startling her as Chase remains close to the door.

Her hand flies to cover her chest. “Jesus. ”

“Sorry.” I move to the other side of the counter. “Chase.” I tip my chin at him, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. Funny how now that we’re not at a baseball field or his house, his demeanor has changed.

I hate that my first encounter with this kid went down the way it did, especially given circumstances between Scottie and me now. I know things would be easier if he liked me, if we could see eye to eye. But I think about how I’d feel if he were my kid and did what he did. I think about how I’m now this kid’s coach. I think about the kind of role I play in his life beyond the next few weeks or months.

We have to find a middle ground, and I hope we find it soon.

“Chase, don’t be rude.”

“Coach,” he says with no emotion.

“I’m Grady here, Chase. I’m your mom’s friend and the man who you owe work to, all right? At practice, I’m your coach, but not here.”

His shoulders relax a bit, which makes me wonder if he thinks his debt will translate to the baseball field as well. I know Ryan worked these boys hard the other night, but I told him afterward that Chase will get the bulk of his punishment working with me.

Chase simply nods before I turn my eyes back to Scottie.

And fuck, does she look beautiful. Each time I see her, the desire to make her mine intensifies. “When should I pick him up?”

I glance at the clock on the wall. “Two hours should be good. I’m gonna have him work outside until it gets dark, then move into the garage to scrub some parts.”

She nods. “Sounds good.” Turning back to her son, she says sternly, “Listen to Grady and do whatever he tells you to do, got it?”

“Yeah.” His eyes never leave the ground.

Sighing, she looks back at me. “Thank you. See you in a bit.” But then she gets as close as she can before whispering, “Remember, he doesn’t know about…” Her eyes flick down to her stomach and back up, pleading with me.

“I know.”

“I’ll tell him, I promise. I just…”

I grab her hand and squeeze it. “It’s okay. One thing at a time.”

She flashes me a tight-lipped smile, one I wish would reach her eyes. But this day has been a roller coaster of emotions, so I can’t blame her for being apprehensive, especially since she’s leaving her son with me.

Once Scottie leaves, the silence between Chase and me grows louder by the second. I clear my throat and move to open the door leading to the garage. “Follow me.”

The lights are still on inside, but I head toward the back where I store some garden tools and other items I use regularly. Metal hooks on the wall hold rakes, shovels, and clippers for yard work. For the next few weeks, that’s what Chase will be responsible for.

“I told your mom the yard needs some TLC, so that’s where you’re going to start.”

He grumbles, “Whatever.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his attitude, one he didn’t dare give me on the baseball field earlier this week, and instead hand him a rake and a hula hoe, motioning for him to follow me outside.

“Weeds. They never stop growing here, especially in the spring. You need to clean them out.” I gesture to the field in front of us, a good thousand square feet covered in weeds that are almost to my knees.

“All of these?”

“Yup.” I pat him on the shoulder. “You won’t get it done today, so you can finish over your next few shifts here.”

“This sucks,” he grumbles, stalking away from me, dragging the hula hoe behind him .

“Yeah, well so does the dent in the hood of my car.” He glares at me over his shoulder but doesn’t say anything in return. “I’ll be in the garage doing some paperwork. You can stop at dark.”

Chase gets to work, pushing the hula hoe through the dirt, anger fueling his movements. And as I watch him, I see it—all of the irritation lurking beneath the surface, an anger that I recognize and have lived with for several years, mostly since I lost baseball.

I was irritable as a teenager too. Especially during games, when I saw other dads cheering on their sons, knowing mine would never do the same. And I wonder if that’s true for Chase as well?

Scottie told me she’s divorced, and it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out since her last name changed. But if she moved her son to Carrington Cove, where the hell is this kid’s dad? I know if Scottie took my kid and left the state, I’d be scouring every square inch of land looking for them both.

Shaking my head, I walk back toward the garage, wondering if I should dig deeper into her marriage to understand why it ended. The last thing I want to do is repeat history, for her or myself. I don’t want to become a man Scottie can’t count on. I don’t want my son or daughter to grow up in a divided family.

I glance over my shoulder at the angry boy pulling weeds from the dirt. I don’t want him to feel like another man is entering his life only to leave it eventually.

I wait as long as I can until there’s barely a sliver of daylight left in the sky before I head out to where Chase is working. I expect to see his energy level sated, for him to be covered in sweat, but much to my surprise, he’s not working on the weeds.

He’s practicing his pitching stance, winding up before throwing an imaginary baseball at the corner of the yard.

“You’re leaning too far forward,” I say, startling him .

“No I’m not.”

“You sure about that?”

He reaches down, picks up the hula hoe, and starts working again as if we weren’t in the middle of a conversation.

“You know I could teach you a few things…”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Everyone has room to improve.”

Chase sighs. “Look, you may be friends with my mom, but we don’t have to be friends, okay? I’m sorry I broke into your garage and smashed your car, but beyond working to repay you for that, we don’t need to talk.”

I cross my arms over my chest as the sky around us grows completely dark. “Don’t forget I’m your coach too.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” he mutters, running the tool through one more weed before standing up tall. “Am I done out here?”

I groan, realizing that the person I may need to work on my relationship with the most is the boy standing right in front of me. He’s not my kid, but he’s Scottie’s son, and the older brother of our child. I refuse to fight with him. There has to be a way we can figure this out.

“Yeah. Come on. I have another job for you.”

“Joy.”

Chase follows me into the garage and over to the steel sink where we scrub engine parts. I found a bucket of odd parts and ends, stuff that I’m sure I don’t even need anymore, but the point is to get this kid’s hands dirty. Mr. Rogers used to save this job for me when I worked here after school. I didn’t understand the point of it back then, but now I do, and maybe Chase will figure it out too.

“Steel pads are in the bucket,” I say, pointing to a small container beside him. “Soap is above you, and I highly recommend wearing an apron. ”

“You want me to clean these?” His eyes survey the grease-covered pieces of steel. “Is it even possible for these to get clean?”

“Yup. It’s possible.” I pat him on the shoulder and start to walk away, but before I can stop myself, more words spill out. “You know, I used to do the same thing.”

“What are you talking about?” Chase replies, still staring down into the sink full of engine parts.

“Practice my pitching without the ball.” Our eyes meet, and though he’s acting like he doesn’t care about what I have to say, his eyes show curiosity. “How often do you do that?”

He swallows visibly. “More than I should probably admit.”

I nod once. “I can tell. That’s what sets you apart, Chase. That’s why I told Coach Carter you should be the starting pitcher, not Max or Nathan.”

“I don’t need you doing me any favors,” he snaps.

“Believe me, the last place I would do you a favor is on the baseball field.” I walk back over to him and point in the sink. “This favor is for your mom, just so you know. But on the field? There’s no room for error, no place for players who don’t earn their spot.”

“Well, now the whole team hates me, so thanks for that.”

I lower my voice and continue, “It’s easy for people to be jealous of what you’ve got, but not how you got it.” His eyes bore into mine. “It comes down to hard work, Chase. If they put in the same effort, they could have your talent. Believe me, I know what you’re going through.”

For a moment, I see a flicker of understanding in his eyes, a realization that we have more in common than not. His face softens, and his scowl begins to fade. But then he clears his throat, grabs an apron from the sink, and reaches for a steel pad, running it under the water. “No, you don’t. ”

A small part of me wants to argue with him, but the adult part of my brain tells me tonight isn’t the time. We have a long road ahead, and there will be moments to bridge the gaps that separate us.

At least, I hope so.

“I’ll be in the office if you need me,” I say as I walk away. As I settle behind the counter, waiting for Scottie to return to pick him up, there’s a dull ache in my chest that won’t subside. It’s half for the woman I want, and the other half for her son who has his own challenges to face, some I’m now responsible for as well.

***

“How’d it go?” Scottie asks as soon as she walks through the front door nearly an hour later. She’s changed from her dress into casual pants and a plain white t-shirt, but she still looks strikingly beautiful.

I rise from my chair, pulling up my jeans. “Well, do you want the truth?”

Her face falls. “What did he do?”

“Nothing horrible,” I say, brushing a hand through my hair. My shirt rides up a little, flashing a sliver of my abs, and Scottie’s eyes focus on the sight. I wait for her gaze to return to mine, smirking in her direction.

Her glare is icy, probably because I caught her staring. “Continue, please.”

“He’s just pissed, Scottie.”

“Well, he has no one to be pissed at but himself.” She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts together. And maybe I’m just imagining things, but her boobs look bigger than they were earlier today .

She catches me staring this time, clearing her throat to regain my attention.

Is this how it’s going to be for the next six months? Stolen glances, catching each other staring, and denying what’s really between us?

I refocus on the matter at hand. “I don’t think it was just anger about the work.” I hold my hands up in frustration. “I might be way off base, but my gut is telling me there’s something else bothering him.”

Scottie blows out a breath, dropping her arms to her sides. “What did he say?”

I tell her about catching him practicing his pitching and how the boys on the team are giving him a hard time because he’s starting at the game tomorrow. And when I tried to explain how I can relate, he brushed me off.

“Yeah, sounds about right,” she says, shaking her head.

“So it’s not just me? I mean, I’m not here to be friends with the kid, but…”

“You’re a man, Grady. That’s all you had to do to piss him off. Having a penis is why Chase is giving you that attitude.”

My brows furrow. “Uh, can you explain further, please?”

Scottie leans on the counter that separates us. “He doesn’t trust you because you’re a man. The one man in his life he should have been able to count on never kept his word, so…”

Recognition races through me. God, I remember that feeling well—wondering why my father never stuck around. Wondering if all men were like that—leaving their kids behind without a second thought.

Knowing that Chase has experienced that just fuels the anger coursing through me. “Fuck, Scottie. ”

She shrugs, but brushes a tear from her cheek. “It’s part of why we moved here,” she whispers. “I was tired of watching my son suffer, tired of seeing him disappointed when his father wouldn’t keep his word.”

I shift my gaze back to Chase, who’s still standing at the sink, scrubbing engine parts. That ache in my chest intensifies because now I not only have to ensure my own child never feels that disappointment, but I also want to show Chase that there are men who do keep their word.

“You did the right thing, Scottie.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make it any easier. And now he’s got a target on his back because of baseball. I was hoping that might go away too, but…”

“He’s really fucking talented,” I say, cutting in. “I swear, watching him yesterday was like…”

“Watching you,” she finishes for me, her eyes locked on mine.

“Yeah.”

Silence stretches between us. I stare at her, feeling like I’m a teenager all over again, getting lost in her eyes. But now, as adults? The connection is even more powerful.

We’re connected not just by friendship now, but by the life growing inside of her.

Scottie is the only person who really knew who I was before baseball. And her son has that same passion for the game—a passion only someone cut from the same cloth can recognize in another.

“I won’t let him down, Scottie,” I declare, breaking the silence. “Or you.”

“You—you can’t promise that, Grady.” Her voice is shaky and her lips are trembling, but it’s the fear in her eyes that tells me how fucking vital it is that I prove I’m serious.

Standing tall, I assert, “Yes, I can. ”

She swallows and then pushes herself off the counter. “I need to get my son home.” Walking around me, she heads into the garage. “Chase?”

He looks over his shoulder at her. “Yeah?”

“You’re done for the day,” I tell him .

“Finally,” he mutters, tossing the steel pad into the sink.

“Say thank you to Grady,” Scottie warns as Chase pulls the apron from his body.

“For what?”

Scottie glares at her son. “For not putting you in jail!”

He rolls his eyes before walking past me. “Thanks.”

Scottie sighs as Chase leaves the garage, not bothering to wait for her. “Same time on Saturday?”

“Yeah. Have you, uh…decided when to tell Chase about the baby?” I hate the sound of desperation in my voice, but keeping this from him is only going to make matter worse.

“Um, not really.”

“Well, there’s a game tomorrow, so maybe you can tell Chase about the baby on Friday. That way he knows before he comes back on Saturday. Fridays won’t work in the future, just an FYI. I have to take my niece to her dance class sometimes on Friday nights for my sister, so Saturdays will work best.”

“You’re a dance uncle?” Scottie teases.

“And damn proud of it.”

Something briefly sparks in her eyes, a glimmer of appreciation maybe, or reverence, but I can’t be quite sure because she darts her gaze from mine in a flash and heads back for the office to follow Chase to her car. “Have a good night, Grady.”

“Keep growing our kid, Scottie,” I call after her .

The smirk she gives me over her shoulder is one I won’t soon forget. I’ve seen it before, and now my mission in life is to make sure that I never have to live without it again.