Imagine that?Jealous of her fucking clothes for getting to touch her in public when I can’t.Not how I want to, anyway.
The dress is sweet.Simple.And somehow it makes her look even prettier than usual.But Kelly is the real beauty.I’ve always known that.
“Are you ready, Honey?”I ask.
She looks up at me and smiles.
“I’m ready.”
Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and the sunlight catches those honey-colored strands just right.
God, she’s beautiful.
My chest tightens a little the way it always does when I look at her too long.
Evan’s already at the field with Thatcher.
The kid’s been buzzing about this father-son game for days.
Mike is supposed to be here any minute.And I fully intend to be standing nearby when he shows up.Not saying anything—don’t know if I can control myself if I opened my mouth.
But I intend to let him feel the weight of my stare, just so he understands exactly who’s watching him now.
We pull into the gravel lot beside the baseball field.
Kids are already warming up, tossing balls back and forth.Parents are scattered along the bleachers with folding chairs and coolers.The smell of fresh grass and popcorn drifts through the warm spring air.
But when we step out of the truck, there’s no sign of Mike.
I scan the parking lot.Nothing.
I walk over to Thatcher while Kelly heads toward the dugout with Evan’s extra water bottle.
“Any sign of him?”I ask.
Thatcher shakes his head, irritation already written all over his face.
“No.”He glances toward the field where the other dads are gathering.“The other guys are here.We’re gonna have to start soon.”
His jaw tightens.
“And I can’t even fucking stand in for him because I’m coaching today.”
I nod.
Yeah.
I get it.And it infuriates me, too.
The kid deserves better than this.
I turn, scanning the bleachers and the parking lot again.That’s when I see her.
Gladys Stevens.
Mike’s mother.
She’s standing near the fence, wringing her hands, her eyes darting toward Kelly like she’s trying to get her attention.
