Plus, with a few weeks off before offseason training starts, I might even go out tonight and see what kind of fun I can find with a willing partner.
The perfect day followed by an even better night.
Grabbing another beer from the cooler, I make my rounds, chatting with the guys who came. Some are here by themselves, while others came with their families.
The guys are sitting under the patio as I take one of the bratwursts and drop into one of the seats next to Marcus.
“Bode said we can play with his giant chess set when we’re done,” Sadie tells him. She’s brimming with excitement. “And we’re done.”
“Are you sure, Bode?” Harper asks.
“Yeah. Who else is going to use it? I don’t play chess.”
“That’s because I beat him.”
Sadie has a huge smile on her face.
“That’s mean, tiny Evans. I’ll take you on after lunch.”
“Twenty bucks says I win,” Sadie says.
Marcus shakes his head. “Don’t take that bet, Bode. You’re going to lose.”
I walk over and stick my hand out to her. “Oh no. I’ll take you on.”
“My sister is going to beat you,” Sam pipes up.
“I always love watching Sadie kick your ass, Bode,” Marcus says.
“You guys are mean, especially considering I invited everyone here.”
“We like your pool,” Noah deadpans.
“See if I ever invite you over again.” I pull my sunglasses down and grab Noah’s drink before heading back to the pool. But before I get far, a woman with a car seat carrier rounds the yard.
“Excuse me. Is there a Bode Adams here?” she asks.
“That’s me.” I hold out my hand for her to shake.
She glances at it and shifts what’s in her arms. “I’m Miss Mitchell from the Tennessee Department of Children’s Services.”
A sound hits my ears. There’s a tiny baby in the car seat that she’s holding.
“Why are you here?” I ask, confused. “I don’t have any kids.”
I don’t miss the whispers that Graham, Noah, and Jasper exchange.
“Oh, shit,” Marcus whispers.
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for a few weeks now and was told you’d be here,” the older woman says. She holds out a stack of papers to me, which I don’t take. “This is your son.”
“I’m sorry, what?” There’s no way I could have heard her correctly.
“Your son.”
“What the fuck?”
“If you would have answered any of my calls, you’d know who I am and why I’m here.”
