Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Noah helped Megan’s husband drag bases from the equipment shed early Saturday morning. Around them, other parents were marking baselines and setting up the small bleachers that had probably been around since Noah played T-ball on this same field. The familiar scent of fresh-cut grass and morning dew brought back memories of his own childhood springs spent here.
Most days, he’d have been annoyed by having the early game, but today, he looked forward to getting T-ball out of the way so he and Eli could spend the rest of the weekend painting his bedroom and the upstairs bath. The past three weekends had been a frenzy, with all of their friends showing up to help with repairs around the house. It was touching to see how the community had come together to help him save money, and it was all thanks to Luke putting out the word.
“Heads up!” Drew called as he tossed Noah another base. “Your boy’s looking good in practice. He’s got a natural swing.”
Noah smiled, remembering how Eli had practiced in their backyard until his little arms were tired. “He’s determined. Though I think he mostly likes it because Livy plays.”
“Yeah, well, your kid’s got better taste than mine.” Drew laughed, referring to his older son’s recent declaration that baseball was “boring” compared to video games. “Speaking of taste…” He nodded toward the parking lot where Luke’s familiar truck had just pulled in. “Didn’t expect to see my brother-in-law at the kids’ T-ball game.”
Heat crept up Noah’s neck. “He, uh, mentioned he might come watch Livy play.” Megan and Drew’s youngest being on the same team as Eli was an easy cover for Luke to spend time with them.
“Uh-huh.” Drew’s knowing smile made Noah wonder just how much Megan had told her husband. “Then explain to me how his sudden interest in early morning T-ball coincides with the two of you getting closer.”
Before Noah could respond, Eli’s excited shout carried across the field. “Mr. Luke! You came!” He launched himself at Luke, who caught him with practiced ease, swinging him around like they’d done this a hundred times.
“’Course I came, buddy.” Luke set Eli down, ruffling his hair. “Couldn’t miss your big game. Need help with your gear?”
Noah’s chest tightened watching them walk to the dugout together, Eli chattering about his new cleats while Luke listened with genuine interest. It felt…right. Natural. Like Luke had always been part of their Saturday mornings.
“Dad!” Eli called, breaking Noah from his thoughts. “Can Mr. Luke help me warm up? He says he played baseball in high school!”
“Sure, if he wants to.” Noah tried to keep his voice casual, ignoring Drew’s raised eyebrow. “Just don’t wear him out before the game starts.”
Other parents began arriving, filling the small parking lot with minivans and SUVs. Noah recognized most of them—the joys and curses of small-town life meant everyone knew everyone else’s business. Mrs. Patterson waved from her usual spot in her lawn chair, already settled in to watch her grandson play. One of the dads nodded as he passed with coffee from Brew & Barrel.
“Noah!” Megan’s voice carried across the field as she helped Livy with her gear. Her knowing smile matched her husband’s as she took in Luke playing catch with Eli. “Quite the cheering section you’ve got today.”
“Don’t start.” Noah busied himself with checking the bases were secure. “He’s just being nice.”
“Right.” Megan snorted. “Because Luke regularly spends his Saturday mornings watching six-year-olds play T-ball. Face it, my baby brother’s got it bad.”
Noah’s protest died in his throat as he watched Luke demonstrate a proper batting stance, his hands gentle as he corrected Eli’s grip on the bat. Other kids had wandered over, drawn by Luke’s patient instruction and easy manner. Even Tommy Crowley, usually too cool to accept help from adults, was paying attention.
“All right, team!” Drew called, clapping. “Circle up! Time for warm-ups!”
The kids scrambled to attention, leaving Luke to join the parents gathering along the sidelines. He settled next to Noah, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “Kid’s got talent,” he said quietly. “Good hand-eye coordination. If he sticks with it, he’ll be a force out there.”
“Thanks for coming.” Noah kept his voice low, aware of curious glances from other parents. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” Luke’s smile was soft, private. “Besides, someone mentioned there’d be victory ice cream at Sweet & Simple after.”
“Pretty confident about that victory.” Noah didn’t have the heart to tell him the real victory would be getting through the next hour without any of the parents acting like their kids were on the fast track to the major leagues. Some of them, like Jimmy Crowley, seemed incapable of letting kids be kids having fun regardless of whether they won or lost.
“Have you seen our secret weapon?” Luke nodded toward where Eli was showing Livy how to hold the bat like Luke had shown him. “With coaching like that, how can we lose?”
Our . The word settled warm in Noah’s chest, dangerous with possibility. Because this—Luke showing up on early Saturday mornings, teaching Eli proper form, joining them for post-game celebrations—felt like something he could get used to. Something he wanted to get used to.
“Thompson!” Jimmy called from near the dugout. “Your kid’s up first, right?”
“Yeah, headed there now.” Noah touched Luke’s arm briefly. “Save me a seat?”
“Always.”
The promise in that single word followed Noah to the dugout, where Eli practically vibrating with excitement. “Did you see Mr. Luke teaching me to bat, Dad? He says if I keep practicing, I might be able to hit it past the bases!”
“I saw, buddy.” Noah helped Eli with his helmet, stealing a glance at where Luke sat talking easily with Megan and Drew. Noah struggled to keep himself from daydreaming about a future that might never come to be. “Ready to show him what you’ve got?”
Eli’s determined nod was pure Thompson focus. “Can we practice more at home? Mr. Luke says the backyard is big enough to set up a batting tee, and then he can help me learn to hit a home run!”
And there it was—the casual way Eli included Luke in their plans like he’d always been there. Like he always would be. Noah swallowed hard against the surge of emotion. “We’ll see. For now, let’s focus on today’s game, okay?”
“Okay!” Eli bounced on his toes, adjusting his grip just like Luke had shown him. “But maybe after ice cream, we could?—”
“Thompson!” Jimmy Crowley’s voice cut through their conversation. “We starting this game today or what?”
Noah bit back a retort. Jimmy had been like this since they were kids—always pushing, always competing, even when it came to six-year-olds playing T-ball. Some things never changed in small towns.
“All right, buddy,” Noah said, adjusting the helmet so Eli could see the ball on the tee. “Show ’em what you’ve got.”
He joined the other parents along the fence, finding Luke had indeed saved him a spot. Their shoulders brushed as Noah leaned against the chain link, and he tried not to notice how natural it felt to share space like this.
“Five bucks says he knocks it past second base,” Luke murmured, close enough that his breath tickled Noah’s ear.
“You betting on my kid, Garrett?” Noah teased. “You do realize hitting the ball at all is an accomplishment, right? They don’t even count strikes here because most of the kids would never see a base.”
“Nah.” Luke’s grin was infectious. “Just investing in talent. And maybe they just need someone who knows what they’re doing to teach them.”
Before Noah could ask Luke if he was volunteering, Eli stepped up to the tee. His face scrunched in concentration as he adjusted his stance exactly as Luke had demonstrated. He stepped back, tightening his grip on the bat. No matter what happened, Noah owed Luke his appreciation for how much more confident Eli looked behind home plate.
“Remember what we practiced!” Luke called out, and Eli’s answering smile was brilliant.
The bat connected with a solid crack, sending the ball sailing past the pitcher’s mound. Eli stood frozen for a moment, watching its arc.
Holy crap! He really did it!
“Run!” Noah and Luke shouted in unison, then shared a laugh as Eli took off toward first base. Even he’d been stunned by his performance.
Other parents cheered as Eli rounded first and headed for second. He made it just as the ball rolled past the shortstop, stopping near the edge of the outfield grass.
The kids in the outfield scrambled as if they didn’t know what they were supposed to do when a ball came to them. Two of them crashed into one another, trying to be the first to the ball. The parents erupted in cheers and laughter.
“That’s my boy!” The words burst from Noah’s chest before he could stop them. Next to him, Luke’s proud grin matched his own.
“Our secret weapon,” Luke said softly, and Noah’s heart did something complicated in his chest.
This moment felt like something he’d been waiting for without knowing it. The way Luke fit so naturally into their lives, the easy way he balanced being both friend and mentor to Eli while something more to Noah. He wanted nothing more than to rest his hand against the small of Luke’s back, to thank him with a kiss for what he’d done for Eli in just a few minutes of instruction.
“Earth to Noah.” Megan’s voice broke through his thoughts. She’d appeared on Luke’s other side, Emma bouncing impatiently beside her. “You might want to actually watch your kid’s triumph instead of making heart eyes at my brother.”
Heat crept up Noah’s neck, but Luke just laughed. “Can’t blame him. I am pretty distracting.”
“You’re something all right,” Noah muttered, but he couldn’t hide his smile. Especially not when Eli bounced around at second base, waving frantically at both of them.
“Dad! Mr. Luke! Did you see? Just like you showed me!”
“We saw, buddy!” Luke called back. “Perfect form!”
The rest of the game passed in a blur of excited shouts and proud parent moments. Noah relaxed into the easy camaraderie of small-town Saturday mornings, sharing knowing looks with other parents when kids ran the wrong way or stopped to wave mid-play. Luke’s steady presence beside him felt natural like he’d always been part of these moments.
“Good hustle, Eli!” Drew called as Eli rounded third base in the final inning. “Bring it home!”
Noah’s throat tightened as Eli sprinted toward home plate, arms pumping so hard it was a wonder he didn’t punch himself in the nose. The determined set of his jaw, the way his eyes locked on his target.
“Run, Eli!” Livy’s voice carried across the field. “You can do it!”
Eli crossed home plate just as the ball rolled past the catcher, victory written across his face. The small crowd erupted in cheers—mostly parents and grandparents who treated every T-ball game like the World Series.
“That’s game!” Drew announced, much to everyone’s relief. While the kids had done great, an hour of T-ball was about all anyone could handle. “Great job, everyone! Don’t forget, team celebration at Sweet & Simple!”
Eli barreled toward them, caught between pride and exhaustion. “Did you see? I scored!”
“We saw,” Noah assured him, steadying his excited son. “Great job listening to Coach Drew.”
“Mr. Luke!” Eli turned those bright eyes to Luke. “Your special grip trick worked! Can you come to all my games?”
The request, so innocent and hopeful, made Noah’s chest tight. He watched Luke crouch to Eli’s level, the way he always did when talking to kids.
“I’ll come whenever I can,” Luke promised carefully. “But only if you keep practicing like we talked about.”
“I will!” Eli’s face lit up. “Dad says maybe we can set up a tee in the backyard, and then you can help me more, right?”
Before Luke could answer, Jimmy Crowley’s voice carried across the field. “Garrett! Good work with Eli today. Tommy’s been begging for private coaching—maybe we could set something up?”
Noah bit back a groan. Of course Jimmy would try to hijack Luke’s attention. “Actually, we were just heading to?—”
“Ice cream!” Eli grabbed both their hands, effectively ending any attempt at scheduling. Sometimes, that boy had impeccable timing. “Come on, Dad! Mr. Luke said he’d help me pick flavors!”
They let themselves be dragged toward the parking lot, Eli’s enthusiasm infectious. Other parents were already loading up kids and gear, the organized chaos of post-game celebrations in full swing.
“Meet you there?” Luke asked softly as they reached their vehicles.
Noah nodded, watching Eli bounce impatiently by his car door. “Save us seats?”
“Always.”
The drive to Sweet & Simple took less than five minutes, but Eli managed to replay his entire game three times, with special emphasis on Luke’s batting tips. Noah found himself smiling at his son’s excitement. The first few weeks of the season, he’d wondered if they’d make it to summer without Eli begging to quit because he wasn’t having fun. No matter how many times Noah reminded him it didn’t matter if they won or lost, his son was quiet and sullen if he didn’t play well.
The bakery’s parking lot was already full when they arrived. Through the window, Noah could see Megan directing traffic behind the counter while Rachel helped serve ice cream. The bell chimed as they entered, mixing with the happy chaos of sugar-fueled children and coffee-desperate parents. Even Ryan, the youngest Garrett sibling, was there helping control the chaos.
“Over here!” Luke waved from a corner booth, having somehow snagged prime real estate.
“Mr. Luke!” Eli slid into the booth beside him. “Can we get chocolate chip cookies too? Dad says it’s okay if you say it’s okay!”
Noah raised an eyebrow at this creative interpretation of their earlier conversation, but Luke just laughed.
“Nice try, buddy.” Luke ruffled Eli’s hair. “But I think that’s definitely a bad decision. If you have too much sugar, you’ll spend the rest of the day with a belly ache.”
“One ice cream flavor,” Noah said firmly, trying not to notice how domestic this felt. “Maybe we’ll buy some cookies to take home for dessert tonight.”
Eli’s triumphant grin was worth bending the rules a bit. They settled into an easy rhythm—Luke helping Eli study the flavors while Noah chatted with Rachel, who’d wandered over during a lull in serving.
“Quite the game this morning,” she said, her knowing smile too similar to Megan’s. “I hear someone’s been giving private lessons.”
“Just some basic tips,” Luke protested, but his ears had turned pink. “Kid’s got natural talent.”
“Uh-huh.” Rachel’s gaze bounced between them. “And you just happened to be free this morning to help coach?”
“Uncle Luke promised,” Eli said matter-of-factly, not looking up from his careful study of ice cream flavors. Noah wished he could figure out what went on his Eli’s mind that determined when he called Luke “mister” versus “uncle.” A ball of worry formed in his stomach at the thought that they were sending mixed messages to the little boy he’d do anything to protect. “He says showing up is important.”
“That’s right, buddy.” Luke’s voice was rough. “Now, what flavor are we thinking? Classic chocolate, or are you feeling adventurous?”
Noah watched them debate ice cream choices, warmth unfurling in his chest. The teen behind the counter scooped chocolate ice cream into a waffle cone, then heaped cookie crumbs and gummy worms on top. So much for worrying about Eli having too much sugar. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. He was fooling himself if he thought he hadn’t already reached the point of no return.
“Earth to Noah.” Rachel’s voice was gentle. “Your ice cream’s going to be soup pretty soon.”
Noah looked down at his neglected dish, realizing he’d been too caught up in watching Luke and Eli to eat. Around them, the bakery hummed with familiar voices and laughter. Mrs. Patterson held court at her usual table, surrounded by other grandparents comparing notes on their star players. Drew and Megan worked in tandem behind the counter while their older kids helped clean up napkins and empty ice cream dishes. Even Tommy Crowley had settled into relative calm, sharing a sundae with his mom while Jimmy talked business with one of the dads.
“They’re good together,” Rachel said softly, following his gaze to where Luke was teaching Eli the proper way to eat his huge sundae in a cone. “He’s good for both of you.”
“Yeah,” Noah admitted, the word barely a whisper. “He really is.”
Later that afternoon, Noah watched as Luke and Eli set up the practice tee they’d picked up after ice cream. Despite Noah’s warnings about sugar crashes, both were still riding the high of the morning’s victory, their enthusiasm infectious as they debated the perfect placement.
He kept waiting to feel jealous that his son wanted Luke’s help, not his, but it never came. Instead, he sat on the back steps, watching the two of them, praying he wasn’t making a huge mistake. Eli was always so serious around Noah, but with Luke, he could be his little goofball self.
“A little to the left,” Luke directed, hands on his hips as Eli dragged the base through the grass. “We want to make sure any balls you hit go toward the fence, not the house.”
“Like this?” Eli adjusted the tee, then stepped back to examine their work. “Dad! Come see!”
Noah pushed off the back steps where he’d been observing their project. The domesticity of the scene hit him again—Luke teaching Eli proper form, sharing knowledge and attention like he’d always been part of their lives. Like he belonged there.
Maybe he does.
“Looks good, buddy.” Noah ruffled Eli’s hair. “Though maybe we save the first practice for tomorrow? It’s getting late, and you’ve had quite a day. We need to get dinner started, and Luke might have other things he needs to do this weekend. He’s spent the whole day with us.”
“But, Dad…” Eli’s protest was interrupted by a massive yawn. The sugar crash Noah had predicted was finally hitting. “Just one more thing?”
“Tell you what.” Luke crouched to Eli’s level, the way he always did when making promises. “Tomorrow after breakfast, I’ll come over so we can work on that swing. Maybe we’ll even set up some targets along the fence. Deal?”
“Promise?” Eli’s eyes were already heavy, but he managed a sleepy smile.
“Cross my heart.” Luke’s voice was soft, gentle in a way that made Noah’s chest ache. “Now go get ready for dinner. And you’ll need to get to bed early. Can’t have our star player too tired to practice.”
Noah watched Eli trudge inside, his usual boundless energy finally depleted. The screen door hadn’t even closed before Eli called back, “Thanks, Uncle Luke! Love you!”
The words hung in the air, innocent and devastating in their simplicity. Luke’s breath caught audibly, and Noah felt something shift between them—the weight of implications too heavy to ignore.
“Luke—” Noah started, but Luke was already backing away, hands raised.
“I should go,” he said roughly. “I need to swing by the Tillermans before I head over here in the morning.”
“Stay.” The word slipped out before Noah could stop it. “Please. We should probably talk…”
“About how your son just casually dropped the L-word?” Luke’s laugh held no humor. “Yeah, that’s… That’s a lot, Noah. I don’t want to confuse him.”
“I know.” And he did know. Noah knew all too well how easily Eli formed attachments, how vulnerable his heart was. Knew he should have been more careful about letting Luke get so close, about blurring lines between contractor and…whatever they were becoming. “Maybe we’ve been?—”
“Don’t.” Luke’s voice was sharp. “Don’t say we’ve been reckless or moving too fast. Today was perfect, Noah. All of it. The game, ice cream, this…” He gestured at the backyard setup they’d created together. “But that’s what scares me. How easily we’ve fallen into this weird domesticity.”
There was nothing weird about it as far as Noah was concerned. It was fast, too fast, but he selfishly wanted more. “I should check on Eli and get dinner started. Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”
“I’m sure. He needs some time with just you.” Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Noah couldn’t argue. It was more important now than ever that Eli know he wasn’t being pushed to the side.
He watched Luke walk to his truck, each step heavy with words left unsaid. He had to be careful—had to protect his son’s heart, no matter what.
The screen door creaked as Noah went inside, its familiar sound a reminder of all the things still broken, still needing repair. Some fixes were simple—a new hinge, a fresh coat of paint. Others required careful handling, patient attention, and the courage to admit when you might be in over your head.
“Dad?” Eli called down. “Can we read a chapter of my book before dinner? Please?”
“Coming, buddy.” Noah took one last look at the backyard, at the evidence of their almost-perfect day. Then he headed inside to do what he did best—be a father first, everything else second.