Page 29 of Feel My Love


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“Huh?” I wasn’t versed in the usual goings-on at games since this was my first foray with it.

She smiled like she held a secret. “There’s always one parent who insists on a snack sign-up.”

“I don’t get it. Why do kids need someone to bring snacks? Can’t their parents feed their kids?” I asked.

Abby rolled her eyes. “There was even one who insisted the kids needed snacks at practice.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I was enjoying this private moment with her. She stood close and had lowered her voice, and it felt like we were sharing something more intimate than we were.

“Just please, don’t give in if someone mentions it. I’m lucky I can get Hunter to practice with his gear. I don’t need the extra responsibility of providing snacks for the whole team.”

My heart clenched at her admission. “Consider it done. No snacks.”

She laughed. “Thank you. It’s a little thing, but—”

We exchanged a smile, and it felt good to bond over something as mundane as snacks. A warmth rushed through me.

Abby stepped back. “Well, I should get going.”

It was getting dark. There were only a couple of parents left.

Abby called Hunter over, and I walked the rest of the group out of the house and to the front sidewalk.

“My car’s farther away,” Abby said as the rest of the parents herded their kids into their vehicles.

The houses in my neighborhood were farther away from each other, and there weren’t any streetlights.

“I’ll walk you.”

For once, Abby didn’t insist she could do it herself, which I appreciated. I fell into step with her while Hunter bounded ahead into the dark.

“I don’t even know how he can see. It’s so dark,” Abby nodded toward Hunter as he threw a ball into the air and caught it in his glove.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets, feeling a little awkward. It was different than talking to her on the phone the other day. We’d been focused on baseball. In person, it felt more intimate. Like we were walking home after a date.

“Does he practice a lot?” I wanted to know more but figured the safest thing to ask about was baseball. The reason we were forced together.

“He’s always throwing a ball against the wall or a pitch back. Swinging a bat in the house. It’s a good thing he doesn’t have any siblings.”

“You let him throw a ball against the wall inside your house?” I asked.

“It’s a soft one. It’s not ideal, but it helps with his need to constantly be in motion.”

“If he wants to get in extra reps, bring him over. Brody’s a catcher. Hunter’s a pitcher. It only makes sense they work together and develop a relationship.” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought that before. It was the perfect excuse to see her more.

“We’ll see,” she said, turning to face me as we stopped in front of her SUV.

Hunter climbed into the backseat. “Later, Coach.”

“Keep practicing.”

“I will,” Hunter said before he closed the door.

“He’s a good kid.”

“He is.” Her lips twisted, and I wondered if she was thinking about how his father wasn’t in the picture and didn’t have a hand in how he’d turned out.

There were a number of things I could have done. Opened her door. Insisted she let Hunter come over to play with Brody. Instead, I stepped back. I was a patient man. I could wait until the timing aligned in my favor.

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