“’Course I came, buddy.” Luke set Eli down, ruffling his hair. “Couldn’t miss your big game. Need help with your gear?”
Noah’s chest tightened watching them walk to the dugout together, Eli chattering about his new cleats while Luke listened with genuine interest. It felt…right. Natural. Like Luke had always been part of their Saturday mornings.
“Dad!” Eli called, breaking Noah from his thoughts. “Can Mr. Luke help me warm up? He says he played baseball in high school!”
“Sure, if he wants to.” Noah tried to keep his voice casual, ignoring Drew’s raised eyebrow. “Just don’t wear him out before the game starts.”
Other parents began arriving, filling the small parking lot with minivans and SUVs. Noah recognized most of them—the joys and curses of small-town life meant everyone knew everyone else’s business. Mrs. Patterson waved from her usual spot in her lawn chair, already settled in to watch her grandson play. One of the dads nodded as he passed with coffee from Brew & Barrel.
“Noah!” Megan’s voice carried across the field as she helped Livy with her gear. Her knowing smile matched her husband’s as she took in Luke playing catch with Eli. “Quite the cheering section you’ve got today.”
“Don’t start.” Noah busied himself with checking the bases were secure. “He’s just being nice.”
“Right.” Megan snorted. “Because Luke regularly spends his Saturday mornings watching six-year-olds play T-ball. Face it, my baby brother’s got it bad.”
Noah’s protest died in his throat as he watched Luke demonstrate a proper batting stance, his hands gentle as he corrected Eli’s grip on the bat. Other kids had wandered over, drawn by Luke’s patient instruction and easy manner. Even Tommy Crowley, usually too cool to accept help from adults, was paying attention.
“All right, team!” Drew called, clapping. “Circle up! Time for warm-ups!”
The kids scrambled to attention, leaving Luke to join the parents gathering along the sidelines. He settled next to Noah, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “Kid’s got talent,” he said quietly. “Good hand-eye coordination. If he sticks with it, he’ll be a force out there.”
“Thanks for coming.” Noah kept his voice low, aware of curious glances from other parents. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” Luke’s smile was soft, private. “Besides, someone mentioned there’d be victory ice cream at Sweet & Simple after.”
“Pretty confident about that victory.” Noah didn’t have the heart to tell him the real victory would be getting through the next hour without any of the parents acting like their kids were on the fast track to the major leagues. Some of them, like Jimmy Crowley, seemed incapable of letting kids be kids having fun regardless of whether they won or lost.
“Have you seen our secret weapon?” Luke nodded toward where Eli was showing Livy how to hold the bat like Luke had shown him. “With coaching like that, how can we lose?”
Our. The word settled warm in Noah’s chest, dangerous with possibility. Because this—Luke showing up on early Saturday mornings, teaching Eli proper form, joining them for post-game celebrations—felt like something he could get used to. Something he wanted to get used to.
“Thompson!” Jimmy called from near the dugout. “Your kid’s up first, right?”
“Yeah, headed there now.” Noah touched Luke’s arm briefly. “Save me a seat?”
“Always.”
The promise in that single word followed Noah to the dugout, where Eli practically vibrating with excitement. “Did you see Mr. Luke teaching me to bat, Dad? He says if I keep practicing, I might be able to hit it past the bases!”
“I saw, buddy.” Noah helped Eli with his helmet, stealing a glance at where Luke sat talking easily with Megan and Drew. Noah struggled to keep himself from daydreaming about a future that might never come to be. “Ready to show him what you’ve got?”
Eli’s determined nod was pure Thompson focus. “Can we practice more at home? Mr. Luke says the backyard is big enough to set up a batting tee, and then he can help me learn to hit a home run!”
And there it was—the casual way Eli included Luke in their plans like he’d always been there. Like he always would be. Noah swallowed hard against the surge of emotion. “We’ll see. For now, let’s focus on today’s game, okay?”
“Okay!” Eli bounced on his toes, adjusting his grip just like Luke had shown him. “But maybe after ice cream, we could?—”
“Thompson!” Jimmy Crowley’s voice cut through their conversation. “We starting this game today or what?”
Noah bit back a retort. Jimmy had been like this since they were kids—always pushing, always competing, even when it came to six-year-olds playing T-ball. Some things never changed in small towns.
“All right, buddy,” Noah said, adjusting the helmet so Eli could see the ball on the tee. “Show ’em what you’ve got.”
He joined the other parents along the fence, finding Luke had indeed saved him a spot. Their shoulders brushed as Noah leaned against the chain link, and he tried not to notice how natural it felt to share space like this.
“Five bucks says he knocks it past second base,” Luke murmured, close enough that his breath tickled Noah’s ear.
“You betting on my kid, Garrett?” Noah teased. “You do realize hitting the ball at all is an accomplishment, right? They don’t even count strikes here because most of the kids would never see a base.”
