Chapter 1
1
[Cort]
Forty-six years old
“ S ylver.” The sharp call of that last name turns my head in the direction of my younger brother Clint.
Together, Clint and I run Haven Exteriors, proud roofers and house painters which is a far cry from my previous life.
One where I was more athletic and much younger, full of spunk and spirit like the thirty kids currently trying out for the travel baseball team we sponsor and coach.
Haven Hitters is the result of my love of baseball and Clint’s desire to give back to our small-town community of Rogue River.
Personally, I think it’s his way to live vicariously, never having athletic success on the level of our brother, Tate, or myself.
Clint is organized, encouraging, and less of a hard ass than I am which is ironic considering his hair is redder than my lion’s mane once was.
Currently, he’s checking in the kids trying out for the twenty-five spots on our 12U—twelve and under—team.
The team is typically all-boys, but this year we have one girl trying out.
Legally, she can play with the boys until she’s twelve years old, and we don’t believe in discriminating.
If she has the skills, she’s on the team.
In some ways, I might be living vicariously as well, as I missed out on these years with my own son, Josh.
When he’d been roughly this age I’d been at the peak, and subsequent valley, of my career in professional football.
An injury to my leg took me out of the game completely.
That was almost a dozen years ago, and at the ripe age of forty-six, my knee still flares in rainstorms like I’m some old fucker with an ache in my limbs afflicted by the weather.
I’m no stranger to bodily harm.
My latest injury is all Valentine Sylver’s fault.
If she hadn’t parked her car across the street from the Hartford house while I’d stood on top of the roof of their two-story home, I wouldn’t have fallen nearly twenty feet, like Icarus blinded by the sun.
But as I stood tall atop that pitched roof, a sunspot blinded me for a second, and I was caught off guard by the sudden sight of Vale—the sway of her supple hips, the firmness of her ass in athletic leggings, and that dried-cornstalk-blond hair I swear I’d recognize anywhere.
Her beauty was at fault for the loss of my footing and me slipping from the roof I was supposed to be repairing.
Thus, I fell two stories and landed in a set of overgrown junipers.
I have no idea if Vale saw my graceless tumble.
The doc said those damn bushes saved my life.
He claimed the fall was from my old knee injury.
Tumbling that distance also tweaked my back, and I’ve been struggling with back pain in one form or another ever since, which is not great when you are the other half of a partnership with your youngest brother.
Clint continues assigning the potential players a number for the unbiased judges to rank the kids’ skill level.
Irony in a small town is that there isn’t anyone without an opinion or a connection to someone in some manner, so it’s difficult to find impartial adults to measure the competency of our potential team members.
Typically, we use our brother Tate who is the athletic director at the local high school, and another buddy from our adult softball team, Master Batters.
However, I’m stuck on that last name.
Sylver . The family is one you cannot help but recognize in the Milton County community, especially as Stone Sylver is the county’s Sheriff.
He’s also my former best friend.
The Sylvers primarily reside in Sterling Falls, the sister town to our current location in Rogue River.
The two communities share many things, including the local high school, the mountain peak, and Haven Hitters travel team.
Without questioning my brother, I reach for the tablet in his hand and double check the name he just read off.
Stone Sylver doesn’t have a child, and until recently most of his siblings didn’t either.
Out of his brothers, most of their kids are girls and under the age of ten which leaves only one option.
Hudson Sylver, age eleven .
Valentine Sylver’s son.
I’ve known for a long time Vale had a child.
I’ve seen her around Sterling Falls the few times I’ve ventured into the town next to mine.
Motherhood agrees with her.
She always looks happy when she’s around the kid.
That’s all I’d ever want for any of the Sylvers.
Happiness .
Hudson is on the younger side of our twelve and under qualification, and possibly under-skilled for our team as most boys—correction, most potential players—will be twelve years of age within the year, if not already.
Hudson just turned eleven .
I hand the tablet back to Clint without a glance in his direction.
Instead, I focus on the collection of boys seated on the ground, scanning from face to face, as if I could pick Hudson out of the crowd.
The truth is, I can.
He looks exactly like his mother.
Same wicked blue eyes.
Same dusty blond hair.
A dimple to boot as he laughs at something the kid beside him says.
He’s wearing a Chicago Anchors T-shirt, probably a fan of the professional baseball team because his uncle used to play for them.
Being the nephew to a world-famous, all-star athlete isn’t going to win him brownie points.
He’ll still need to prove himself.
Flicking my gaze from the skinny kid sitting with his legs extended in front of him, leaning back on scrawny arms, I scan along the row of parents standing a few feet back.
Anxious dads wanting to relive their glory days through their progeny.
Frazzled moms with to-go coffee mugs and a cell phone in hand.
Some have another kid on their hip.
However, one woman stands apart from the rest. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest, one hand lifted to her lips, where she appears to be biting her thumb nail.
Her gaze is laser-focused on her son.
Looking at Vale is like the glare of that sunspot.
Or getting hit by a defensive back at top speed.
I should look away from her, but that’s the thing about Valentine Sylver.
Despite our age difference.
Despite the riff between our families and the loss of friendship with her brother, there came a point where I couldn’t pull my gaze from her.
When I’d noticed that Vale Sylver wasn’t my best friend’s annoying little sister, but a grown woman.
A young lady on the verge of a new chapter in her life.
A story I’d never be a part of, and yet something inside me stung at the thought .
And then I’d made a foolish and reckless decision and sealed our forbidden fate forever.
Thus, putting me on the periphery of her life and never within her line of sight until today.
Until this moment.
When I catch her glance up at me, watching me watch her, like the moment that got me in trouble with her in the first place.