“How are you, Glen?” Logan says just before the door closes.
We don’t hear the rest, but I worry my lip while Coop and I look at each other. He takes my hand under the table, and his warmth stops me from going cold.
Dad’s eyes jump between Coop and me, and I know he knowsweknow.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” I say.
“Or,” Dad says, piping frosting on a wall of his house. He’s been working on that same wall for minutes. “We could find out now, considering you two clearly know something.”
“I tried, Dad,” I say, guilt thick in my throat.
“Tried what?”
“To get them called up.”
“They just hit their stride last season. They have time.” Confusion tugs his threaded eyebrows up into concern. “Did you think that was your job?”
I frown. “I wanted to watch out for them like Mom said. You were there. We were watching the draft, and she made me promise to watch out for them.”
Dad puts his frosting bag down and trains his eyes on me. “Lee, honey, you’ve always put too much pressure on yourself.You were so worried about them missing out on anything when your mom was sick that you made it your mission to help them however you could. But they didn’t need that.”
“I didn’t do it for them. I did it forher. I saw how hard it was for her to not be involved, so I took over and brought her into every discussion and decision. I wanted her to feel …” I stop, at a loss for words.
“Useful?” Coop asks. His brown eyes swim with empathy.
“Yeah.” I nod. “She loved being a baseball mom. She took so much pride in being the kind of mom who didn’t complain about lugging kids to and from practices and living at the baseball field. And then, it was taken from her. I didn’t want her to feel like she was missing out on even more.”
Dad gets up, rounds the table, and hugs me. “You brought her so much joy.” His words hit my heart like a bass drum. “She would be so proud of you. But you know it was never your responsibility to create training programs for them. All she wanted was for you to use that big brain and heart of yours to keep them from daring each other to jump out of a plane without a parachute. She never expected you to help them make the pros. That’s on them.”
“I know,” I say, even though I don’t know anything of the sort.
“Lee,” Dad says gently, backing up. “Believe me. She would be more than proud of all you’ve done for them. But she’d also be the first person to tell you you’ve done more than enough. It’s time to let them worry about their futures.”
Coop clears his throat, and my dad winces like Coop kicked him.
“And …I recognize I’m guilty of holding on too hard, myself.” Dad says, dropping his eyes. “I shouldn’t have come to your presentation, sweetie. Or called all the teams you interviewed with. Or gotten background checks on the guys you’ve dated?—”
“WHAT?”
He scratches his forehead sheepishly. “I’ve overstepped, and I’m sorry. You’re an impressive young woman. You don’t need your dad in the stands cheering you on.”
“Daddy,” I say, affection squeezing out the annoyance in my chest as I hug him “I’ll always need you in the stands cheering me on! But maybe you could watch from the cheap seats next time. And with fewer threats to guys I like.”
“Or none,” Coop says. “None’s a good number.”
“No, some is okay,” I say, peeking around my dad to smile at Coop.
Dad’s laugh rumbles against me.
My brothers come back right as Dad sits back down.
“Well, well, well,” Lucas says, “you’re looking at the newest star pitchers of the Mullet Ridge Mudflaps, baby!” Lucas pops the collar of his Christmas tree camo pajamas.
“Mullet Ridge?” Dad asks. “The Triple-A team out of South Carolina? They’re a Rockies affiliate.” Dad asks.
“Theywere.”
