“Yeah, well, this isn’t the damn ballpark.” I muttered, shoving my hands into my pockets as we stepped inside.
I forced the man out of my thoughts as we walked down the hallway, my shoulders slowly relaxing at the familiar sights—the polished floors, the soft hum of activity, the faint scent of flowers and disinfectant. This place had become home in a way I hated.
Logan threw an arm around me, squeezing my shoulder. “Head up, big brother. Angela looks lovely today.”
I shook my head but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips.
“Logan Madsen, you are a charmer.” Angela grinned at us as she fell into step beside us, her usual warm presence immediately putting me at ease.
“She’s having a great day,” she said.
Thank Christ.
“No more episodes?” I asked, the tension in my chest uncoiling slightly.
“Not today. She forgot why she was here for a couple of hours, but we settled it. She’ll be happy to see you two.”
Logan smirked. “Angela, I swear, if you were twenty years younger…”
Angela blushed, swatting at him like she was scandalized but secretly flattered. "Oh, stop it. I’ll make sure to sneak extra cake into her room.
“My favorite woman,” Logan declared, winking at her.
I grabbed his arm and dragged his flirty ass toward our mom’s room.
“Hey, stop it!” he protested.
“Do you have an off button, or have you always been this way?”
“You play baseball, and I flirt. Your talent earns more money than mine, but it doesn’t make mine any less impressive.” He grinned, and despite myself, I laughed.
The weight in my chest eased, just a little.
Lately, I had felt myself slipping into a darker place, my usual upbeat attitude clouded by the storm brewing between me and Michelle. But I couldn’t let that bleed into this moment.
When it came to our mom, she needed me to be present.
We walked into her room, and she lit up immediately. “My boys!”
She looked good today. Her hair had been freshly done, her eyes bright, her smile wide as she held out her arms. I hugged her first, pressing my face into her hair, noticing how small she felt in my arms. Maybe I was imagining it, but it felt like there was less of her every time I visited.
“You look great,” I said, forcing my voice to stay light. “Did you go to the salon?”
“Sure did. Thanks for the gift card. I love spoiling myself with a snazzy haircut.”
She patted my cheek, then narrowed her eyes slightly, studying me. “Why are you sad? Your eyes aren’t the same.”
I stiffened.
She had always been able to see right through me.
“Women problems,” Logan said before I could even try to come up with a lie.
“Dude.” I scowled at him, but it was too late.
Our mom sat on her bed, crossing one leg over the other, her foot hooking around her calf in the exact same way she used to when I was a teenager, venting to her about school, about girls, about life.
“Why would she leave you?” she asked, frowning. “You’re both great catches. If this woman doesn’t realize that… then you should end it.”
