Page 15 of Rescued Heart

Eddie groaned as he scrolled through the next texts.

Practice is at five p.m. Right?

You’re late!

Are you coming?

Scarlette says you’re a chicken for not coming.

Then he opened the one from his mother.

Mary

When did you move to Last Chance County?

Eddie gripped the phone in his palm. So much for staying below her radar. He wished his mentor had been a garbage truck driver or a dentist. Someone less likely than a firefighter to hit the news. Maybe then Eddie would have had a job where his mother couldn’t locate him after ten years.

Ten years after she had given him up. Freely.

Macon pivoted back to Eddie. “Everything all right?”

Eddie shoved his phone in his pocket. “Nothing to worry about right now.”

Macon narrowed his gaze and then glanced at his own phone.

Great. The last thing Eddie wanted was for his chief to see the news. The article he’d seen yesterday had only focused on Eddie’s heroic actions. It didn’t exactly say “team” for the fire station, which was the award the station had received. Or was supposed to have received at the auction before the chaos.

But instead, Macon’s arms went slack at his sides. “It’s Tuesday, right? What time is ball practice?”

Eddie ran his hand over his hair. “Uh, now, sir. But I got someone to cover for me before…”

Macon waved him off. “You can’t be late for your first official head-coach practice.”

Eddie shrugged. “If I show up with you, sir, then it will more than make up for it.”

Macon smiled and crinkles appeared around his eyes. “I have to let go of the reins on coaching.”

He had been the ideal coach. But Macon and his wife Natalie were expecting their first child soon. Plus, Eddie had promised to watch over one of the players, Will, while Will’s father couldn’t, so it had seemed like the logical step to move Eddie from assistant coach to head coach—until one factored in his lack of experience.

Macon raised his hand to Conroy. “You good without Rice for tonight?”

Conroy lifted the notebook in his hand. “If you think of anything else, just call.”

Macon hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Get out of here, Rice. Those kids need you. Who else is helping you out this year?”

Eddie winced. “Zack, when he can. Eli is trying it out tonight.” The man who, in a roundabout way, had gotten Macon’s brother Houston’s old job as youth pastor—before Houston had left to be a hotshot firefighter in Montana.

Macon only nodded. Apparently, no hard feelings over the past. Must be nice. “No matter who’s your assistant, you’re going to be great for those kids.”

Eddie hoped so. Had promised his old foster brother he’d be there for his son. To give the kids hope—something Eddie and Joe hadn’t had when they’d been his players’ ages.

Once Eddie hopped into his truck, he drove toward the ballpark on the south side of town—the park that needed everything from a paint job to reliable bathrooms. At least they had willing kids who wanted to play—or wanted someone to show them some attention.

Eddie tightened his grip on the steering wheel. How he wished someone had rounded him up to play ball when he was younger. Instead, he’d found unworthy activities on the street.

He pulled into the parking lot, right next to Eli’s SUV. A group of boys sat on the bleachers outside of the field, around Trenton, one of the boys with a cell phone, who the kids called Tank even though he looked more like a stork with his thin arms and legs.

Eli wore a striped polo and khaki shorts. Every strand of his hair seemed gelled into full obedience as he stood on the pitcher’s mound, being coached how to throw the ball by Scarlette, the team’s youngest and its only girl. And whose brother, Scout—one of the few who truly loved the game—was digging his worn tennis shoes into the batter’s box dirt.

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