He glances around and something about how much bigger he looks now than from the other side of the screen grabs my attention. Maybe not physically, but even from our seats in the stands he just looks… dominating. Confident, powerful—so at peace with that dirt underneath his feet. And when he spots Ruthie, his smile is steady. A mile-wide force all its own.
"Dad!" Ruthie calls, popping out of her seat. She waves ferociously, and I'm grateful—the fear she instills that I may be in the ice cream soup danger zone stops me from following every curve that Liam's tight baseball pants carve on his body.
Liam waves and blows her a kiss, and her grin grows the same size as his.
I watch her stick her tongue out at him playfully, and immediately, my gaze swings toward the field in the hopes that I might catch Liam Montgomery with his out too. But the second I do, I regret it. Not because the image would make it hard to take my boss seriously, but because he's not mimicking her at all.
My eyes flick back to Ruthie, but all I find is her with ice cream dripping down her chin.
What is he frowning about?
When I peer down at him again, that's when I realize it. He's not staring at her, his face suddenly white, his jaw tense and eyes wide. He's looking at me.
He isn’t staring directly—more like he’s looking right through me—but somehow, his entire demeanor flips a full one-eighty. My stomach drops as I start to imagine what I could have done now.
I turn behind me completely to see if maybe there's something nearby that's causing the change, but all I find is an elderly couple. She hasbinoculars up to her face, and he has a pen in his hand and his head in a notebook.
I spin back around cautiously, more anxious now that this back and forth with him has returned. But when I do, it's gone. Liam's back, his smile halved but still there as he lifts one hand to toss me a wave.
I smile awkwardly, I'm sure, and bring one palm up to reciprocate the gesture. His eyes are light again, his face relaxed, and if anything he almost looks even calmer than before.
Did I just imagine that?
"Can I get cotton candy next?" Ruthie asks, flopping into her seat and thankfully stopping my mental replay of the last thirty-seconds.
"I, uh…" I shake my head, looking down at her with a creamy, white mustache and laugh, the last moment forgotten. Mostly. "You do know you don't have to have every ballpark snack your first game back, right?"
She looks up at me, her face full of betrayal. "It's been over a week," she says dramatically, as if I told her we were leaving Sammy at the kennel even after we return.
I roll my eyes teasingly. "Fine." I fold just as the announcers ask us to stand and remove our hats for the national anthem. "But not until the stretch."
Her lips part as we both rise to our feet. "Tessa… " She puts her hand to her chest either out of respect or faux-surprise. "I'm so proud of you."
I nudge her with my elbow, placing my palm over my heart as the players in front of us place their hats over their team names across their jerseys. The ceremonial flags wave in the slight spring breeze as the performer takes center field.
Moments later, her voice fades with the last line of the anthem, and the crowd erupts in cheers as the players make their way onto the diamond. I track Liam's movement, waiting for him to turn around again—hoping our eyes meet once more, and he's still the version of himself he's been since I got to his house last night.
It feels like this weekend could be a turning point—a clean slate. For me. For us. Like if we could just get our footing, we might actually go home having left our rocky start behind. With Trevor gone, and the weight of our relationship off of my shoulders, I already feel lighter. Andif I could just find steady ground with Liam, I think everything else might start falling back into place.
I spot him—hat pulled low, crouching into position as he shifts his weight side-to-side. He's in his element here—as if he's warming up to toss a ball with friends in his backyard instead of performing in front of thousands of fans. He's not cold or distant or on edge. I don't think he ever meant to be. Just like he is off the field, he's bright and easy—the version of him I find myself craving.
Here, he's ready. And so am I.
For the game, for the weekend. Maybe even for a fresh start.
"So… how about popcorn?"
A surge of relief washes over me as I look down at Ruthie, her eyes wide and sincere.
I smother a laugh and shake my head, grateful that, at least for now, her eagerness for snacks seems to be my biggest worry. She clasps her hands under her chin, begging, and I tug on one of her pigtail braids before giving in.
"Okay, fine." She throws her arms around my waist as Liam glances over at us, and I smile at both of them. "You're lucky I'm starving."
18
Liam
Where are you guys?
