“Okay,” he agreed.
Tipping my head toward the door, we made our way outside. Thankfully, Josh was out soon afterward and was settled in by the time Louie finished buckling himself into his booster seat. I didn’t say a word for a long time as I backed out of the driveway and drove five miles over the speed limit, already imagining myself blaming Josh for why I was speeding to the cop that might pull us over.
“Can you drive faster?” the eleven-year-old asked.
Through the rearview mirror, I shot Josh a look I hoped would make him look away.
It worked.
Decked out in his Tornado uniform and surrounded by his bag and all his stuff, he was ready to go for the game that was supposed to be started in… twenty minutes. We were running so late that Trip called ten minutes after we were supposed to get there to make sure everything was fine.
By the time I pulled into the lot, Josh was flying out of the car before I’d even put it into park and yanking his bag out, running to the field like he was on fire. I couldn’t see where the boys were warming up but didn’t worry; Josh would find them. Louie and I had just made it to the field when the game started. We were the last ones to arrive, despite half the bleachers being empty because no one went to an early game unless they had to. The people who were there were all huddled in their jackets and blankets. The cold front was kicking everyone’s ass.
I was honestly not surprised to find that Josh wasn’t playing catcher. They’d stuck him in the outfield. A part of me was relieved Dallas and Trip had done that. Hopefully it would teach him a lesson since me yelling at him almost daily did nothing to make him rush. The Tornados barely scraped by with a win.
With an hour break between games, Louie and I waited on the bleachers for Josh, partially watching the other game going on in the field next to the one the boys had just played on. There were eight teams in this tournament from what I could remember. I wasn’t paying attention until Josh was standing in front of me, shivering and asking for a dollar.
I blinked at him. “Where’s your jacket?”
He had the nerve to look sheepish. “I left it at home. Can I have a dollar for hot chocolate?” Silence. “Please.”
“You forgot your jacket even though I told you twice to get it?” I asked, looking at him while I stuck one hand in my bag for the pocket I kept all my small bills from tips at.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t bring your long-sleeved undershirt I bought you for cold weather either?”
I was pretty sure Louie, who was leg to leg beside me, let out a “heh” as he tried to make it seem like he was paying more attention to the show he was watching on his tablet than our conversation, but I let it go.
“I’m sorry,” Josh whisper-hissed. He shivered again. “Can I have a dollar, please?”
Why did this always happen to me and why wasn’t I prepared enough to leave two jackets in my car for occasions like this?
A small part of me wanted to cry as I began pulling one arm out of my sleeve and then the other, eyeing Josh the whole time. The good thing was, I’d put on a sweater beneath my black fleece jacket that was a size too large—a present courtesy of my mom.
Josh rolled his eyes. “I don’t need it. I’ll be fine.”
“Until you get pneumonia.” I handed the fleece zip-up to him in one hand and two one-dollar bills in the other. “Wear it. If one of us is going to get sick, it’s going to be me. Stop looking at me like that. It isn’t pink and it doesn’t look like a girl jacket. Nobody will know it’s mine.”
He huffed as he took the jacket from me first, casting a look around to make sure no one was watching him, and then put it on faster than I’d ever seen him put on anything in his life.
“Take your brother with you and get him a hot chocolate too.”
To give him credit, he only frowned a little before he nodded. “You want one?”
I shook my head. “I’m good.”
He shrugged, pulling the zipper up. “Butt face, come on.”
The nosey child at my side was ready and pushed his backpack toward me before jumping off the bleacher and following Josh. The boys had barely turned their backs to me when I finally let myself shiver and crossed my arms over my chest, like that would help. Fuck, it was cold.
“It’s chilly, huh?”
Shifting in my spot, I watched as the divorced dad, who sometimes sat by me and always mentioned that he wasn’t seeing anyone, took a step down from the bench he was on to the one below it, the first one. The same one as me. If that wasn’t bad enough, he sat one body length distance away, his jacket zipped up, hands stuffed into the pockets.
I smiled at him, trying to be polite. “Very.”
“I might have a blanket in my car…,” he offered.
