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“They’re right.”
“Yes, well . . . go sit down, the chili is done. I’ll make your plates.”
Hawk directs me to the table and as soon as I sit down, the door opens and a string of people come walking in. Hawk tells me that they’re the ranch hands. They live and work full-time at the ranch, and some are even second and third generation employees of the Sinclairs’.
Rhonda brings over a tray with four bowls and places one in front of me. My stomach growls, even though I would’ve said I wasn’t hungry if asked. The chili smells amazing, but it’s the bread bowl that the chili is in that has my mouth watering.
“Did you make the bread bowl?” I ask Rhonda.
“Of course, everything is homemade here.”
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” I say after taking the first bite.
Hawk and I end up spending the rest of the day at the ranch. I spend the day visiting with his mom, giving her my life story, and gushing about the rest of her house.
He makes sure I’m home when Chase gets off the bus, but he’s the one to wait for him. I think Hawk is a bit excited about tomorrow, with it being their first game. When Chase and Hawk come into the house, they’re talking strategy. Not about tomorrow’s game, but how they’re going to get me to agree to going out for pizza.
As if I could ever say no to these two.
By the time we arrive at the Sinclair Fields, the parking lot is full of cars, the fields are busy with games, kids of all ages are running around in their baseball gear — some not — and my stomach is growling over the smell of popcorn and hotdogs. Once Hawk finds a parking spot, Chase and I get out of the truck and start lifting the equipment out of the back of the truck. Hawk protests, saying he can get it, but after a long talk with his mom yesterday, I learned that Hawk isn’t supposed to lift anything, and he’s not allowed to throw a ball any farther than ten yards. I glared at him when she said those things and told him no more. He needs to get better so he can go back to Boston, not that I want him to, but I know he misses his team and the game.
As soon as we see Owen, I pass the bag of bats to him, adjust my mini Renegades shirt and head to the concession stand. I don’t think I’m in line for a minute before the gossip starts.
“You know,” the woman behind me says into my ear. “He has a girlfriend back in Boston and once he leaves here, he’s never going to call you again.”
How does one even respond to a statement like this with dignity? I turn around and stand as tall as I can. “I know, we’re thinking about having a three-some later.” I shrug, smile and turn back around, trying with everything I have in me to stay calm even though I’m anything but. I’m raging. I’m sad. Why are women so nasty to one another? Why can’t whoever it is behind me just be happy for her ‘sister from another mister’? No, instead she wants to bring me down to her level of pettiness.
When I get to the counter, I place my order for a couple of hotdogs, a few drinks, a bag of popcorn and some candy. Might as well go all out for my son’s first game. I hand the lady behind the counter a twenty, but she shakes her head. “Is it more?”
“No, Mr. Sinclair gave us strict instructions not to charge you for anything.”
“Oh, is that normal?”
“I’m not sure, he’s never been here for a game before.”
“All right.” I toss my twenty into the tip jar, collect my tray of goodies and head toward the stands. Hawk is easy to spot among everyone. He’s the guy surrounded by every little kid not playing baseball and some adults, all clamoring for his attention, while all his attention is on Chase. They’re watching a game and Hawk is pointing things out to him.
I stand there, taking it all in, and hating how the woman in the concession line acted toward me. Jealously is an ugly trait to carry around. To me, Hawk’s a normal guy who I happen to be falling deeply in love with, and so is my son. It sucks that his job is going to take him away from us, and I’m not naïve enough to think we’ll continue our relationship once he’s back in Boston either. But until then, I’m going to ride this wave, so to speak.
“What is Chase doing? He should be getting ready.” I look to my left to find Greg standing next to me. I continue to glance around, waiting to spot Priscilla, but thankfully I don’t see her.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is cold, detached.
“Chase has a game.”
I glance back at my son, sitting there with Hawk, and wonder how Chase is going to react to the presence of his father. Not well, I imagine. I start walking toward them, knowing Greg is hot on my heels. I want him to go away, to let us continue living in the bubble we’ve created for ourselves, but he won’t. And honestly, he shouldn’t. He should want to be with his son every chance he gets.
Chase smiles when he sees me coming. I return the sentiment and then watch as his grin disappears. “Hey, bud,” I say as I come to stand next to him. Hawk glances at me and I give him a look, hoping he understands what is about to happen. I wait for a minute for Greg to say hi to this son and when he doesn’t, I make introductions.
“Greg, this is Hawk Sinclair, Chase’s baseball coach.”
“And mom’s boyfriend,” Chase adds. Secretly, I want to kiss him for saying this to his father, but right now I’m mortified because he said it rather loudly and others are looking.
Greg starts to say something but closes his mouth. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Gregory Patrick,” he says to Hawk while I roll my eyes, before turning his attention to Chase.
“What do you say we go sit down and talk?”
“No thanks,” Chase says. “I’m watching this game with Hawk.” Chase steps closer to Hawk, who isn’t paying any attention to Greg. He’s focused solely on Chase and me.
