Page 53 of Lost Then Found
“Shortstop,” I say, meeting his eyes.
His eyebrows lift. “That’s what I play.”
I smirk. “Must run in the blood.”
He sits up straighter. “What was your best game?”
I chuckle, shift my weight against the desk. “State semifinals, senior year.”
His eyes light up. “What happened?”
“We were tied in the bottom of the ninth,” I say. “Two outs. Guy on second. Coach gives me the sign to swing away.” I shake my head, remembering it clearer than I expected. “First pitch, I fouled it so hard it nearly took out our assistant coach. Second pitch? I damn near took myself out.”
Hudson cracks up. “No way.”
“Oh yeah,” I say. “Brutal. But third pitch? Fastball down the middle. I cracked it into left. Guy scored. We won.”
He grins like I just told him I hit a grand slam in the World Series. “That’s badass.”
I shrug. “Didn’t hurt that your mom was in the stands screaming at me loud enough to make my ears ring. Swore she’d kill me if I struck out.”
He laughs again—real and full and so much like Lark it stops me cold.
He might have my eyes, my swing, my posture.
But that laugh? That’s hers. No doubt about it.
Hudson shakes his head. “She’s crazy sometimes. She would do that.”
“Oh, she did,” I say. “Loud enough that my coach gavehera warning.”
Hudson’s eyes sparkle with amusement, but then he shifts slightly, like he’s mulling something over. “Mom said you could’ve gone pro.”
I nod, stretching my legs out. “Could’ve.”
Hudson tilts his head. “Why didn’t you?”
“Went into the military instead.”
His eyes widen. “Whoa.” Then, after a beat, “Like Captain America?”
I bark out a laugh. “Yeah, something like that. Just with a lot less spandex.”
Hudson smirks. “That’s disappointing.”
I shake my head, chuckling. “Tell me about it.”
Hudson goes quiet for a second, then hesitates before saying, “Mom also said you have a ranch.”
“I do,” I say, nodding. “A pretty big one.”
Hudson hesitates again, chewing his lip like he’s debating something. Then, finally, he says, “Could I see it sometime?”
The question hits me harder than I expect. My kid wants to come to the ranch. He wants to see where I live. That must mean he likes me, at least a little…right?
I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. “I’d like nothing more.”
Hudson nods, satisfied with that answer. Then, like it’s no big deal, he says, “Good. Because I wanna learn how to fish, and Mom hates fish, so she’s useless.”
