Page 41 of Curveball
Dylan stands tall and hangs on his every word, and it feels as though, in that moment, I lose my little boy. It’s bittersweet to think of him as growing older and growing up, but I’m so proud. I want him to always have his boyish sense of fun and play. But it’s my job as his parent to raise him to be the best man he can be.
That includes respect for other men, when he hasn’t had anyone close to admire, or act as a role model.
Max works with Dylan for a while longer, sharing his free time, which, in his business, is short in supply.
Eventually, Max signals Natalie to the mound and she jogs over and high fives with Dylan, who’s been grinning with pride and enthusiasm.
“Good job, you two.” Max stretches his arms wide and brings them both in for a group hug. Dylan hesitates at first, but when Max yanks on his sleeve, he stumbles into the quick embrace.
Once they separate, Max pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the screen. “I have a little more time before I need to leave. I want you two to keep practicing. But alternate the pitches this time. A fastball, then a slider. A couple of fastballs, and then a curve. You get the picture.” The teens are focused on him with their full attention.
“I’m working on the mental intensity, right? So I don’t let up from one pitch to the next?”
Max gives him one of those precious grins, along with an approving nod. “Smart kid. That’s exactly what I want you to do. And I want you to tell me if today’s work makes any difference at your next game. I think you should see an improvement in your performance.”
Natalie splits off and heads back to the plate.
Max turns to walk in my direction but hesitates, eying the equipment scattered all around them.
“Gather all this up and get the screens and stuff, and put it away when you’re done.”
Dylan gives him a chin nod, already more comfortable in the presence of his guy crush.
“Sure thing, Coach. Where does it go?”
Max grins and points to the large building that was the topic of earlier conversation.
“Right there, kid. Why do you think we have such a big-ass garage?”
Chapter 13
Max
I generally guard my free time closely, choosing to spend it with Natalie, sometimes Adele, doing whatever comes to mind at the time. But today’s coaching session with Palmer’s son, the woman I’ve come to admire, respect, appreciate—and hell yes, lust after—is a welcome change. I hadn’t even realized how small my personal world has become.
These growing feelings for Palmer, though—damn, but they’re coming at me like a line drive.
Palmer walks silently beside me across the yard and then the pool patio on our journey back to the house. She’s been here with Dylan for a couple of hours, but I want to check on Adele and help Natalie get lunch before I leave for the field. We’ve reached the covered patio attached to the back of the house when she peers up at me with her dark eyes looking troubled.
“Look, maybe I misunderstood whatever we were doing after that call last week. I read more into . . . it . . . than I think you did. It was fun to have someone to flirt with, but I let it go too far and?—”
“Our kiss today was real. We areus, just like we said.”
Her brow pinches.
“We were on the same page, both of us. I was there with you for every message. They made me feel . . . like I wasn’t hundreds of miles away. I’m here with you today. Still on the same page.”
She lowers her gaze to the ground at her feet, to where she’s scuffing her toe into the flagstone with the tip of her pink athletic shoe. I tip her chin up so I can see her lightly freckled face, her pert nose and pointed chin, her eyes swirling with hope and confusion.
Her bottom lip gets trapped between her teeth before she lets it go. “I’m a lot, I get it. I come with . . . well, you got a look at it.”
“Palmer Girl, show me anyone our age who doesn’t have shit baggage and stories to tell, and I’ll show you someone who hasn’t had a life.”
I reach out and pull her in close, and she lets me.
“I could use a little less life about now.”
She doesn’t wrap her arms around me, but she anchors herself to me by clasping my forearms, and I drop my forehead to hers.
