CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
M y grin spreads as I study the young minds looking to me for knowledge. “We’re going to focus on basics today. How does a game of catch sound?”
“Yay!” The team of ten T-ballers shout and stomp their feet.
“That’s the spirit. Pick a partner and practice tossing the ball.” I mimic the action.
They nod in tandem while glancing at each other, already moving as a cohesive unit. Pride warms my chest. Cassidy thought this would be difficult. I scoff. This will teach her to underestimate me.
“And don’t forget you have to earn that aqua shirt,” I remind before setting them loose.
“Yes, Rake,” they recite.
I chuckle and wag my finger at Charlie. “Didn’t we already go over this? That’s a special nickname.”
“Like Pinkie Pie.”
Kenzie pauses her doodles in the dirt to offer that tidbit. The little girl didn’t want to play, but she volunteered to be my assistant. So far, she’s great at delivering comedic relief. Giggles erupt and the kids begin chanting the fluffy title she’s shared.
“Just call me Coach,” I tell the team.
But they aren’t listening. Two start poking each other. That encourages three of them to roll on the ground, knocking into their neighbors. Another gets distracted by a plane flying overhead. Those remaining are still repeating ‘Pinkie Pie’ like a mantra.
I clap my palms together. “Settle down or we don’t get to play.”
That gets their attention. “Yes, Coach.”
The strain whooshes from me. Just a minor hiccup. I inhale the scent of freshly cut grass and budding talent. This is going to be a huge success.
My hands get parked on my hips. “Okay, what are you going to do?”
Wide eyes bounce from left to right in search of the answer. Almost every expression turns blank.
“Catch balls,” Charlie says.
“That’s right.” I bend to give him a high-five. “Are we ready?”
The kids jump to their feet in a collective motion. “Yes!”
“Who are we?”
Tiny fists pump in the air. “The Colts!”
“Go, go, go!” I roll my wrists, sending them onto the field.
Excitement squeals from their scattering cluster. My mistake unfolds in front of me almost immediately. The semblance of cooperation evaporates while they race off in different directions. There’s no logic to their movements. Screams and laughter combine into shrill noise. Nobody is working together. The balls remain in a pile on the mound.
“Yo, Colts!” I bellow. “Remember to find a partner. Practice throwing and catching.”
But my directions are drowned in their ruckus. Kids zoom back and forth, going nowhere. It reminds me of recess in elementary school. One spins in circles until she falls over. Four appear to be having a race. They’re just burning energy at this point.
“Oh, come on!” I toss my hands in the air. “At least pretend to throw a ball.”
A dash of motion nearby catches my attention. Kenzie leaves her position beside me and dashes into the fray. Her braids whip from the fast pace.
“Mac? Where are you going?”
She doesn’t pause. “Gonna play tag!”
I gape at her retreating form. “But that’s not what they’re doing!”
Except that’s exactly what they’re doing. Much to my disappointment. Irritation spikes as the nonsense spreads into a chase where everybody is trying to get caught. Bodies collide before bouncing away to find another crash.
I’m not ready to admit defeat, but this is getting out of hand. My lack of experience is exposed like an infected wound. I glance at the parents who don’t seem the least bit concerned about their children acting like hellions. Most probably assume this is a strategy from me.
My focus returns to the kids. “Colts! Can I have your attention?” Nope, but I wait in vain. “Listen up, team!”
I get nothing in return other than pitchy giggles lobbed at each other. A select few take aim for kneecaps, trying to make a tackle.
“That’s the wrong sport,” I shout.
Five of them gather into a huddle, putting their hands in the middle. They break apart and one takes the role of quarterback. She cocks her arm back and throws an impressively fake pass.
I hang my head at the mockery. “Now you’re just being mean.”
A boy zips by me in a blur. I’m not sure why he’s in such a hurry until a kid behind him throws a handful of dirt. Dust billows and blasts me in the face. Particles lodge in my eyes, which burns like fire.
“Son of a bit—ter beaver.” I slap a palm over the wounded area. “All right, that’s it. I’ve had enough of this… silliness. If you can’t listen—”
“Hey, trouble.” Cassidy’s melodic voice cuts into my rant. “You hanging in there?”
“Yup. Couldn’t be better,” I joke.
My ruffled feathers flap, carrying me to where she’s standing behind the fence. The stress melts off my shoulders as I get caught in her gaze. She’s dressed to entice me in a Mustangs shirt that has my name on the back. A hat that matches mine shadows her face but there’s no shrouding the concern resting there.
Her fingers curl in the chain link, brushing against mine. “Does your eye hurt?”
“This?” I point to the blazing ache. “Just on the inside.”
She winces. “It’s super red.”
“Not surprised,” I admit. Grit flakes off my lashes when I rub at the soreness. “Can you believe this crew of misfits?”
“Um, yeah.” Cassidy laughs at my dumbfounded expression. “They’re children. You gave them permission to run free.”
I frown. “The directions were simple to follow.”
“For you,” she argues. “Remember they’re four and five at this level. Maybe six. This is their first practice.”
“Doesn’t matter. That”—I hitch a thumb at the frenzy behind me—“isn’t how you get in the big leagues.”
Her brows leap under the brim of her cap. “They’re just kids.”
“Who aren’t taking this seriously.”
“Did you consider the possibility that you’re taking this too seriously?”
That gives me pause. I dig through my memories, trying to recall when I started playing at their age. It’s fuzzy but there were plenty of occasions when I acted like a little shit. No wonder my coach made me run extra laps.
Cassidy must see understanding dawn in my expression. “They don’t necessarily want to go to the big leagues. These kids just want to have fun. There has to be a balance, especially while they’re so young. Have patience with them.”
“This is normal?”
Her head toggles. “To an extent. I’m not sure what else you were expecting.”
“Perfect angels on their best behavior, ready to play ball.”
She blinks, and then cracks up like a hyena. “Ohhhh, you sweet man. That’s not realistic. Kids are messy and wild. Think of them as rowdy customers during happy hour at your bar. Just less belligerent and more adorable.”
I scrub over my jaw, glancing at the tornados of chaos whipping across the field. “That tracks.”
“We’re outside in an unstructured setting. Lucky for you, they’re corralled somewhat. That doesn’t mean you should turn them loose and assume they’ll do what they’re told. They’re not capable of following directions that well. Those who are, such are Kenzie and Charlie, will conveniently forget what they’ve been taught and join the herd.” Her chin lifts to where the twins are hopping over others like frogs and logs.
“Pack mentality,” I mutter while supervising what’s become preschool recess. “I’ve lost control of the situation.”
“Get it back,” Cassidy retorts.
My lips slide into a smile at her encouragement. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is. They’re testing you right now and you’re letting them take advantage. Didn’t I warn you about this?”
I avert my gaze, taking a sudden interest in a cloud overhead. “You might’ve mentioned it.”
“And did you listen?”
“Obviously not.” My arm thrusts toward the disassembled team that’s moving nonstop. “They’ll poop themselves out eventually, right?”
“You better be joking,” she cracks.
“What if I’m not?”
Cassidy’s stare bores into mine, digging at my insecurities until I want to squirm. “Get out there and show them who’s in charge. You’re the coach. Be firm but fair. Stick to a smaller section of the field. Take control. Give them a reason to respect your authority. Earn their trust. Establish rules and boundaries. After that, you can expand the safe zone. Trial and error. Never give up. These kids need you.”
I allow her pep talk to wash over me in a warm wave. “Damn, that’s hot. How can I repay you?”
“You’re coaching my son’s team,” she deadpans.
“Not good enough. I’m going to give you a hot beef injection.”
Cassidy gags. “Please don’t ever repeat that.”
“Stun you with my cum gun?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Pump you full—”
“How about you focus on building an unbeatable team, stud.”
“Or we could ditch this—”
Her glare silences me. “Don’t make me fire you, trouble.”
“Not possible. It’s a volunteer position,” I remind her.
“Just do the job then. It makes bragging that you’re my boyfriend slap harder. The other moms are already jealous, but if you’re good with children?” She kisses her fingers in a chef’s kiss style. “Irresistible.”
I tip my ball cap at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Nope,” she laughs. “That’s not sexy either.”
“Striking out left and right. Maybe I should quit while I’m already down.”
“You’ve got this, champ. Use that carrot in your back pocket.”
I pat my gym shorts. “What?”
She rolls her eyes. “The shirts. They want one. Use that to reel them in.”
“Great advice. What would I do without you?”
“At this rate? Be used for batting practice. Swing and a hit.” Cassidy’s gaze lowers to my groin.
I wince. “Wicked woman.”
“Good luck.” She wiggles her fingers while backing toward the bleachers.
My cleats eat dirt as I jog to midfield. A loud whistle rips from me, halting the mayhem I allowed for too long. I cross my arms and widen my stance.
“Gather ‘round, Colts. First person in front of me gets to be the leader.” I point to the spot without removing my gaze from them.
The group rushes at me in a stampede. Charlie arrives a second faster than anyone else. There are a few grumbles but nobody puts up a fuss. Kenzie parks herself next to me as the second in command. All eyes are on me for what comes next.
“You’ve had your fun. It’s time to listen.” My tone demands silence. “There are only fifteen minutes left. We’re going to practice throwing and catching as planned. After we’re done, I’ll pass out the team shirts.”
Several kids whoop and begin going off the rails but others are quick to shush them.
“Hey, look at that. You’re learning. Let’s try this process again. Pick a partner.” I pause as they pair up. “Looks awesome. Now follow the leader to the fence. That’s Charlie. Don’t cut ahead of him.”
He waves, the powerful position straightening his posture. “I go first.”
“Yep, that’s right.” I motion him forward before continuing the instructions. “We’re going to form two lines. One against the fence. The other facing it. You should be looking at your partner.”
The kids do as they’re told. My victorious grin shifts to Cassidy. I’m hoping to find her smiling back at me but she’s talking to someone. The other woman is leaning close, her bleached hair shining in the sun. Even wearing a hat as a shield, I can see my girlfriend’s emotions on display. Cassidy’s expression crumples at whatever the blonde says. The anguish wipes away in the next second, firming into a neutral mask. I would’ve missed it had I not been paying attention. A protective surge flexes my legs, prepared to defend her against the unknown.
The clang of metal realigns my concentration to where the kids wait on me. This isn’t the moment to get distracted. Whatever is bothering her will have to wait.
“All right, Colts,” I say while striding to the mound. “I’ll bring you a ball. Practice tossing it back and forth. Gently.”
Kenzie skips along beside me, assisting in the distribution task. “You’re like the best coach ever.”
I chuckle. “Not sure about that, but thanks.”
“Baseball is sooooo fun,” she gushes.
“What’s your favorite part?”
Her features scrunch. “Chasing boys. They tried to give me germs. Yuck.”
“Did you win?”
Kenzie stares at me like I’ve sprouted horns. “Um, no. That’s not the rules.”
“My mistake.” More laughter rumbles from me but a glance at the stands cuts the amusement short. The blonde is still next to Cassidy, her hands moving in animated gestures. “Do you know that lady your mom is talking to?”
The little girl barely gives her a peek. “Nope.”
“Figures,” I mumble.
But that’s probably for the best. Serves me right too. I need to keep my head in the game. Or practice. Either way, the kids are actually listening. An internal fist pumps at the accomplishment.
“Great teamwork, Colts. Let’s change things up a bit. Instead of throwing, roll the ball to each other. This is good practice for catching grounders.” I model the action of scooping and returning.
The kids are quick to comply. They do well and remain on task. That makes the rest of practice run smoothly but I can’t get Cassidy’s reaction out of my mind.
When the clock strikes six, I rush to pass out the shirts. The team erupts in cheers, no complaints about my hurried methods. Everyone is smiling as they show off their earned uniform.
I’m racing to the gap in the fence when Cassidy approaches. My stomach plummets at her forced smile. “What’s wrong, beauty?”
Her lips wobble but she tries to stay strong. “I have a buyer for Leita.”