“Ice cream!” Eli grabbed both their hands, effectively ending any attempt at scheduling. Sometimes, that boy had impeccable timing. “Come on, Dad! Mr. Luke said he’d help me pick flavors!”
They let themselves be dragged toward the parking lot, Eli’s enthusiasm infectious. Other parents were already loading up kids and gear, the organized chaos of post-game celebrations in full swing.
“Meet you there?” Luke asked softly as they reached their vehicles.
Noah nodded, watching Eli bounce impatiently by his car door. “Save us seats?”
“Always.”
The drive to Sweet & Simple took less than five minutes, but Eli managed to replay his entire game three times, with special emphasis on Luke’s batting tips. Noah found himself smiling at his son’s excitement. The first few weeks of the season, he’d wondered if they’d make it to summer without Eli begging to quit because he wasn’t having fun. No matter how many times Noah reminded him it didn’t matter if they won or lost, his son was quiet and sullen if he didn’t play well.
The bakery’s parking lot was already full when they arrived. Through the window, Noah could see Megan directing traffic behind the counter while Rachel helped serve ice cream. The bell chimed as they entered, mixing with the happy chaos of sugar-fueled children and coffee-desperate parents. Even Ryan, the youngest Garrett sibling, was there helping control the chaos.
“Over here!” Luke waved from a corner booth, having somehow snagged prime real estate.
“Mr. Luke!” Eli slid into the booth beside him. “Can we get chocolate chip cookies too? Dad says it’s okay if you say it’s okay!”
Noah raised an eyebrow at this creative interpretation of their earlier conversation, but Luke just laughed.
“Nice try, buddy.” Luke ruffled Eli’s hair. “But I think that’s definitely a bad decision. If you have too much sugar, you’ll spend the rest of the day with a belly ache.”
“One ice cream flavor,” Noah said firmly, trying not to notice how domestic this felt. “Maybe we’ll buy some cookies to take home for dessert tonight.”
Eli’s triumphant grin was worth bending the rules a bit. They settled into an easy rhythm—Luke helping Eli study the flavorswhile Noah chatted with Rachel, who’d wandered over during a lull in serving.
“Quite the game this morning,” she said, her knowing smile too similar to Megan’s. “I hear someone’s been giving private lessons.”
“Just some basic tips,” Luke protested, but his ears had turned pink. “Kid’s got natural talent.”
“Uh-huh.” Rachel’s gaze bounced between them. “And you just happened to be free this morning to help coach?”
“Uncle Luke promised,” Eli said matter-of-factly, not looking up from his careful study of ice cream flavors. Noah wished he could figure out what went on his Eli’s mind that determined when he called Luke “mister” versus “uncle.” A ball of worry formed in his stomach at the thought that they were sending mixed messages to the little boy he’d do anything to protect. “He says showing up is important.”
“That’s right, buddy.” Luke’s voice was rough. “Now, what flavor are we thinking? Classic chocolate, or are you feeling adventurous?”
Noah watched them debate ice cream choices, warmth unfurling in his chest. The teen behind the counter scooped chocolate ice cream into a waffle cone, then heaped cookie crumbs and gummy worms on top. So much for worrying about Eli having too much sugar. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. He was fooling himself if he thought he hadn’t already reached the point of no return.
“Earth to Noah.” Rachel’s voice was gentle. “Your ice cream’s going to be soup pretty soon.”
Noah looked down at his neglected dish, realizing he’d been too caught up in watching Luke and Eli to eat. Around them, the bakery hummed with familiar voices and laughter. Mrs. Patterson held court at her usual table, surrounded by other grandparents comparing notes on their star players. Drew and Megan worked in tandem behind the counter while their older kids helped clean up napkins and empty ice cream dishes. Even Tommy Crowley had settled into relative calm, sharing a sundae with his mom while Jimmy talked business with one of the dads.
“They’re good together,” Rachel said softly, following his gaze to where Luke was teaching Eli the proper way to eat his huge sundae in a cone. “He’s good for both of you.”
“Yeah,” Noah admitted, the word barely a whisper. “He really is.”
Later that afternoon, Noah watched as Luke and Eli set up the practice tee they’d picked up after ice cream. Despite Noah’s warnings about sugar crashes, both were still riding the high of the morning’s victory, their enthusiasm infectious as they debated the perfect placement.
He kept waiting to feel jealous that his son wanted Luke’s help, not his, but it never came. Instead, he sat on the back steps, watching the two of them, praying he wasn’t making a huge mistake. Eli was always so serious around Noah, but with Luke, he could be his little goofball self.
“A little to the left,” Luke directed, hands on his hips as Eli dragged the base through the grass. “We want to make sure any balls you hit go toward the fence, not the house.”
“Like this?” Eli adjusted the tee, then stepped back to examine their work. “Dad! Come see!”
Noah pushed off the back steps where he’d been observing their project. The domesticity of the scene hit him again—Luke teaching Eli proper form, sharing knowledge and attention like he’d always been part of their lives. Like he belonged there.
Maybe he does.
“Looks good, buddy.” Noah ruffled Eli’s hair. “Though maybe we save the first practice for tomorrow? It’s getting late, and you’ve had quite a day. We need to get dinner started, and Luke might have other things he needs to do this weekend. He’s spent the whole day with us.”
