Page 118 of Revival

Spencer just knows.

We might have spent decades apart, but he knows how to make me feel happy and loved.

And that’s why it all feels so new and fresh and freeing. Because with Sebastian, I had to beg for his love. Spencer gives it away freely.

That makes all the difference.

“Let’s go, Lincoln!” Juniper cups her hands around her mouth to amplify the cheer. Lee stands at the fence, issuing encouragement as Lincoln steps up to the plate.

I feel like I’m holding my breath. I force the air from my lungs and release my shoulders from my ears.

“Nervous?” Spencer asks.

“I always get this way when they’re up to bat. Ever since the two of them were little kids. I just—Oof.” I flinch as Lincoln swings and misses the first pitch.

“Strike one!” the umpire calls.

“You’ll get the next one!” Jack shouts from the row below us.

“I can feel how tense you are.” Spencer draws circles with his thumb on the back of my hand.

“I used to be worried about them getting hit by a pitch. Now I just want them to get on base.”

The second pitch sails in too high.

The umpire marks the pitch as a ball.

“You’re a really good mom.” Beneath the growing cheers and chants, I nearly miss Spencer’s voice. “I assumed as much, but seeing it blows me away, beautiful.”

Looking into his eyes is like being seen for the very first time. I’m stripped bare. All the struggles and trials and difficulties of raising a child alone as a working mom lie at my feet.

“Thanks.”

My smile is cut off by the crack of the bat. Lincoln sends the third pitch sailing down the first baseline.

Our section erupts. The deep shouts from his uncles join with the delighted screams from the aunts. Lincoln slides into second base just as the ball returns from the outfield into the second baseman’s glove.

“Ollie’s turn,” I say both to Spencer and myself. My hand flexes in his as I wait for Ollie’s first pitch.

Crack!

I’m on my feet at the sound of the connecting hit. The ball soars through the air, and Ollie takes off. Once again, the Powells jump up as one, screaming as we watch that ball go high into the outfield, passing over the fence straight over the numbers.

The bleachers are chaotic as Ollie sends himself, Lincoln, and the runner on third base home. I scream so loud I can’t even hear myself. My hair flies like a tornado around my head. Ollie looks over and points at me as he jogs around second base, his smile proud.

Above all the yells, an earsplitting whistle comes from my side.

Spencer has two fingers in his mouth. He creates a piercing shriek above the chaos. He smiles broadly and joins us in cheering as if he’s known my son not just a few days but his entire life.

Smiles and congrats are passed around the bench. Other baseball moms look over to wave, cheer, or show their support for my kid. Spencer slings his arm over my shoulder, and I wrap mine around his waist in a hug.

“Oh my goodness, it’s just like you’re all kids again.” Mom stands at the foot of the bleachers with her back to the field, surveying her brood.

The games back then would have been our own. Mom would have hauled us around to support one another, but it wouldn’t be unusual for the Stones to come if they weren’t also on the team. We’d sit together and share snacks from the concession stand, huddled under blankets during the cold months and sharing sunscreen and bug spray in the summer.

This is how it always should have been, I think to myself and snuggle deeper into Spencer’s side.

The thought brings tears to my eyes.

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