8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Evalina
During Dustin’s entire practice, my mind repeatedly wanders back to Koa’s last visit.
Much to Annie’s pleasure, no donuts were harmed in the making of his flower delivery, but my pride might have taken a ding or two.
The violets, which had been planted in the cutest little cupcake-shaped pot, still sit by the register.
There was no note, no explanation, just an adorable, cheerful plant that, unbeknownst to the delivery man, actually did cheer up my day, even if the delivery man wasn’t the most pleasant.
Coach Fuller’s update on getting Dustin more focused coaching was also a bright spot, especially when he confirmed it would be free. Who knows who this magical blessing of a mentor might be, but if it helps my son eventually get into a good college, then it doesn’t matter.
I’m a little less thrilled about needing to stick around for another hour after practice, but Annie assured me she could handle the bakery until I drop Dustin off with the sitter and head back to prep everything for tomorrow morning and begin the process of packing my shop up forever.
When Dustin’s friends file out of practice for the afternoon, he wanders over to where I’m seated under the blazing Georgia sun on the only parents’ bench.
More than once, I considered dragging the heavy thing beneath the oak tree whose branches span far enough to cover it and then some with much-appreciated shade.
But today, like always, I forget all about it when my son flops down beside me, grin spread ear to ear.
“Did you see Ethan’s hit? Man, he’s getting so good!” He wipes dirt from his brow and adjusts his ball cap, his brown eyes focused on me.
“He is, for sure. Did Coach tell you that we got you set up with some one-on-one? I’m pretty excited about it.”
“He did?” Dustin’s eyes light up and he nearly slips from the bench. “When?”
“Right now. We’re staying an hour later so you can meet him and get started.”
“I can’t believe it. Did he say who it is? Do we know him? Does he play for the Sharks or another team or somewhere—”
My laughter cuts his rambling short. “I don’t know, son. We’ll see in just—” My own statement is cut when a tall, blond-haired man meanders towards us with the sickest, fakest smile I’ve ever seen in my life. When he reaches us, Dustin gasps but says nothing.
Koa, on the other hand, stuffs his hands deeper in his pockets and says, “I swear, I didn’t know Dustin was your son when Coach Fuller asked me to help.”
A woman follows behind him, probably his girlfriend or something, but she sits on the far end of the bench with a stack of folders and a clipboard and gets right to work doing whatever it is women like her do.
My gaze shifts from her to Koa, then goes my son, who is so beyond himself at this point, I couldn’t say no if I wanted to.
Koa Keaton, Dustin’s absolute favorite player, is his one-on-one coach. Lovely.
“It’s…it’s fine. Um, I guess thank you for doing this. And for…for the flowers.” I ignore that my child is confused that I seem to know Koa—because truly I don’t…I don’t—and stand to meet Koa.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you got them. I think Annie planned to steal them.” He chuckles, which is most definitely real, and rolls back on his heels. “So, Coach Fuller tells me Dustin has a lot of potential. I’m excited to see if we can bring that out of him. If you’re good with it, of course.”
“I…I…don’t know. I…” I brush sweat from my forehead and look down at my son, who looks up at me as if I’m about to ruin his entire life. Saying no because Koa and I have had a couple of disagreements is not an option. Surely, for my son, I can suck it up. “I guess, if you really don’t mind.”
“I really don’t.”
There’s something different in his tone, the way he addresses me, and it throws me off.
Admittedly, I didn’t give him much of a chance this morning, but who could blame me after two failed attempts at being nice to the guy?
Or not quite so nice the second time around, I guess, but this is different.
This is my son, and if he hurts Dustin, I might have to kill him.
“It’s just that…” One more look at Dustin, and I know it will hurt him if I don’t let this happen.
I grasp Koa’s elbow and pull him aside, out of my son’s eavesdropping range.
“It’s just that he’s already been disappointed enough in his life, and I couldn’t stand it if…
you know…you’re his favorite player and…
” My mouth opens and closes too many times to be considered not weird, but Koa picks up on the reason for my hesitation.
“I get it, but I’m not going to give him one lesson and drop him.
If Coach sees potential, then it’s there, and I’ll work with him until he’s confident enough to let it shine.
” Koa shrugs and finally pulls his hands from his pockets.
“Maybe we can start over? Hi, I’m Koa Keaton.
I play for the Savannah Sharks, and recently my life sort of exploded.
I did some dumb things to a very nice person, and for that I am truly regretful.
As a genuine apology, I would love to mentor her son.
” He offers me his hand, and I mindlessly give him mine to shake.
I don’t see any way this can go well, but if I resolve to keep my opinions to myself, maybe it will turn out okay. For Dustin’s sake, I agree. “Thank you, and I accept. I’m sorry I threw donuts at you.”
Koa chuckles. “I mean, at least they weren’t hot this time.” He thumbs over toward Dustin. “If you’re good with it, I’d like to see what he’s already got a good handle on and make a plan?”
I step away from him, definitely not noticing how beautiful his eyes are this close. It was hard to tell when I was angry and he was shouting, but the deep brown is a nice contrast to his dirty-blond hair.
“Oh. Yes, go for it.”
Koa turns toward the bench and motions for Dustin to join him. I’ve never seen my son leap to his feet to do anything he’s told so fast in my life. The prospect of meeting Koa alone has him running laps around himself in excitement.
At first, I’m not so sure it’s a good idea.
Dustin’s insecurity comes, most likely, from a lack of a father figure in his life.
With my parents gone, and my uncle living too far away, it’s always been hard to ensure a good, family-focused man is in his life.
I haven’t dated since I was married, and making friends has always been difficult for me.
Outside of his friend Camden’s parents, I don’t have friends with kids his age.
My son has inherited my lack of self-confidence, but on the plus side, he loves God and prays often.
I only wish his prayers were answered—that he’d have an earthly father someday—but that would require his mother opening her heart.
That’s something I’m not sure I can ever do again.
A pop distracts me from my musings, and I jerk my head up in time to spy my son jumping up and down.
“That was an amazing hit! See, it only took a small adjustment. You’re going to be a great hitter someday, kid!” Koa gives Dustin a high five before pointing toward the pitcher’s mound. “Let’s see how you throw.”
“Can you hit a home run?” Dustin begs.
“I don’t know. Depends on the kind of heat you put on that thing. Let’s see what you’ve got.” Koa squares up and takes a few warm-up swings, then gets into position. Even his girlfriend has taken a break from her work to glance up and see what the fuss is about.
“Let her rip!”
Dustin throws and the first is a strike, which I suspect was meant to boost my son’s confidence. There’s no way Koa should have missed that. The second throw is a little tap and Dustin’s face falls. He’s here for the home run, and nothing short will bring that smile back to his face.
“Oh, come on? Is that all you’ve got?” I yell from the bench. Koa’s girlfriend chuckles and scoots closer to me.
Koa turns around, glares at me, and says, “All right, all right. I was trying to be gentle.”
“Gotta give the fans what they want, Mr. Keaton!” I shout.
He pauses, swings his bat around a few times, and grins. “Are you a fan?”
“I meant my son, and you know it. Give the kid a home run to chase.”
Koa’s grin widens as he turns to prepare. Maybe getting along with him won’t stink too much if he can take a little joking. It’ll be best if I can put the entire drama behind me and pretend this situation isn’t embarrassing.
“Hi, I’m Eleanor.” His girlfriend offers me her hand in a gentle shake.
“Evalina. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too. Your son is precious. How old is he?”
She’s gorgeous. Just downright, no way around it, gorgeous. Which is fine. I’m not in a competition here. I’m just present to watch my son learn to play baseball better, to be a supportive mom, and to survive this ninety-degree day with some dignity.
“He’s eight, but I swear he was just two yesterday,” I admit.
“I wish I had kids, but there are literally zero prospects for even so much as a husband. So, you know, patience, I guess.” She waves it off as nothing, but it sure grabs my interest.
“What do you mean? I thought he was your boyfriend.” I point toward Koa, who has yet to hit a home run, but has my child running laps instead.
Eleanor glances between me and Koa and her eyes widen. “Oh, absolutely not. No. I’m only here because my brother took pity on him. I’m an image consultant for his teams.”
“Teams?”
“My brothers own several sports teams in the southeast, including the Sharks. When things went, shall we say, kablooey, Quade, my brother, asked if I’d be willing to come here and make sure things didn’t get out of control.” She glances at me and chuckles. “Well, no more out of control.”
“I see.” Nope, there is no chance I’m going to get into a conversation with a billionaire about my issues with Koa. Instead, we refocus on the practice and periodically shout insults at Koa about his inability to hit a home run pitched from an eight-year-old.
“All right, I’ve had just about enough from the two of you!” Koa turns around and motions for Dustin to pitch again. “Don’t go easy on me, kid!”
Dustin pitches a perfect opportunity for Koa to blast it out of the park.
The bat comes down and nails the ball so hard, the crack echoes through the entire field.
Dustin, even at eight, squeals with delight and chases after it, no doubt to ask Koa to sign it.
Koa chases after him, both racing to get to the ball first.
Tears well in my eyes, the kind that come from too many sleepless nights, too much weight on my shoulders, more hits than I can take alone, and watching my son’s favorite player in the whole world having fun with him.
What I wouldn’t do to be able to love again, to open up to someone and let them inside my life, to father Dustin the way a kid his age deserves and needs.
I can’t take the risk. I can’t chance that same man would hurt my son when things get too hard and he leaves.
At least this, this one-on-one coaching, can give my son something I can’t.
A chance to spend time with a man who has his best interests at heart.
I fully believe that’s true, too, because the smile on Koa’s face can’t be faked.