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Julia
“Way to go, Imogene!” Lachlan exclaimed as we made our way onto the field after their win, thanks to my daughter being an impenetrable wall on the field.
As always.
“You were incredible out there.” He wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her sweaty head, as if she were his own daughter.
And that was precisely what it felt like as I watched Imogene’s game.
Or, more accurately, as I watched Lachlan watch Imogene’s game.
The way he cheered for her, supported her, encouraged her was exactly what a father would do.
It was exactly how I always hoped a father would act around her. Never would I have imagined finding such an incredible role model for her in a twenty-seven-year-old professional baseball player.
“Thanks,” she replied somewhat shyly, sensing quite a few pairs of eyes on her. But that didn’t seem to affect Lachlan. He tuned it out, all his attention focused on Imogene as he celebrated in her win, as if she’d just won the World Series. Not an inconsequential high school soccer game.
“You did great, sweetie,” I added. After getting praise from Lachlan Hale, my approval didn’t matter in the least. “How do you feel? You didn’t overdo it, did you?” I raked my gaze over her, always the concerned mother of a heart patient.
“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” She toyed with her necklace of a mended heart, knowing where my anxiety came from.
“It’s my job to worry about you.”
“I know.” She rolled her eyes, feigning aggravation. Then her expression brightened.
“Roman!” she shouted as she waved.
I followed her line of sight to see Roman standing off to the side, as well as dozens of others waiting to ask Lachlan for his autograph, baseballs, hats, and even a few gloves in their hands.
Roman jogged toward Imogene, a sincere smile on his face. “Great game, Mo. You’re one heck of a defender.”
Her cheeks reddened under his compliment. “Thanks.”
“Ms. Prescott,” he said politely. “Mr. Hale. Good to see you again.”
Lachlan shook his outstretched hand. “You can just call me Lachlan.”
A wide smile tugged on Roman’s lips, eyes lighting up. “Thank you, Mr., uh… Lachlan.”
“Or you can just call him Hale.” Imogene crossed her arms in front of her chest, pretending as if Lachlan weren’t the celebrity he was. “That’s what I do.”
“I think I’ll stick to Lachlan,” Roman replied nervously, obviously remembering the warning Lachlan gave him days ago. “Are you staying for the football game?” he asked Imogene.
She gave me a pleading look. “Can I?”
“I don’t know, sweetie,” I said with a sigh, hating to be the bad guy yet again. “You haven’t had dinner yet.”
“I can get her something at the concession stand. They have hot dogs, burgers, stuff like that.”
“That’s very kind of you,” I told Roman, then addressed Imogene again. “Don’t you want to shower after your game?”
“I can do that in the locker room.”
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, wishing one of my previous reasons would work to discourage her. The last thing I wanted was to tell her she couldn’t stay for the Homecoming game when practically the entire school would be there. Any other day, I would have happily agreed. Would have encouraged her to go.
But with Nick on the run, everything was different.
“I could stay,” Nikko said softly behind me.
