10. Cale
cale
Melanie keeps her eyes pinned on the closed door, her expression pinched with furious disbelief. I step back, putting some distance between us. She doesn’t move, even when she hears the car door slam and the engine revving as the asshole leaves.
“Melanie,” I start, my tone rough and teeth gritted. “How often has Dent been coming around like that?”
It doesn’t seem like Mel is going to answer, but then she turns around, her expression carefully blank. “Your stuff is still in my bedroom. I’ve got to take Oakley to his baseball game.”
She goes to move past me, but I step in front of her, forcing her to stop before she crashes into me. I reach out, gripping her arms, my touch gentle but tight enough that she knows I’m not just going to let her brush me off. “Talk to me. Tell me what the hell that was about.”
Turbulent blue eyes slowly lift to mine, her eyebrows low and knitted together.
“This isn’t your concern,” she says firmly. “Back off.” She yanks away from me, already calling for Oakley, “Come on, bug. We need to go, or that lemon bar isn’t happening.”
The kid trudges in a second later, dressed in a navy Sterling Sluggers shirt, the matching cap pulled low over his head.
His head hangs, his shoulders hunched, each step dragging like a storm cloud is weighing him down.
He looks nothing like the kid who’s been counting down to this game all week, and that hits me hard, reviving my fury until I want to chase down that fucker and shove his face into a pile of dog shit.
“Ready,” Oakley mutters. He lifts his head, eyes flaring with surprise when he catches sight of me. There’s a brief flash of excitement, but it fades away, like he’s battling it back, trying to look unaffected. “Hey, Cale.”
“Hey, Killer.” I shoot him a grin, hating the way his eyes drop. “Your uniform is way too clean. You need to add some more grass stains.” He gives a little shrug, and my mouth twitches down. “You excited?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he mumbles, staring down at the glove clutched in his hand.
It takes me a split second to make a decision.
“Well, I was wondering if I could come.” I ignore Melanie furiously whispering my name, focusing completely on the kid as his head shoots up. “Only if you don’t mind, of course.”
His throat works as he swallows, his blue-gray eyes too big in his face. “You mean it? You wanna come?” His eyes dart to Melanie and back, and I can feel the anger radiating toward me.
I should’ve asked her first. He’s not my kid, and she’s not my girl. But I’d like to think we’re friends, and I’m not gonna let that fucking asshole ruin Oakley’s day. Not if there’s anything I can do about it.
“Yeah, Killer.” I crouch down in front of him, squeezing his shoulder. “We can even take my truck, yeah? Not sure my legs will fit in your mom’s car.”
A smile tugs up the corner of his mouth, some of the tension easing from his shoulders as he bobs his head up and down. “You’d look like you were tryna fit in a clown car or something.”
“You’d have to pry me out with a crowbar,” I remark dryly, preening a little when he laughs. “Come on, Killer. Let’s hit the road. I heard something about lemon bars, and my stomach is rumbling.”
Melanie doesn’t say a word. Not when we stop at the cafe, and not on the drive over to the field, where I angle the truck into a space in an almost full parking lot.
The silence is only broken by Oakley’s cheerful commentary, but he ditches us as soon as he scrambles out the door, shouting a quick goodbye to his mom as he speeds toward where the team has already started gathering.
The baseball pitch is small enough that there aren’t any stands, just some low metal benches that look uncomfortable as hell.
Instead, I haul out two camping chairs out of the back of the truck, tucking them under my arm and gesturing for Melanie to lead the way, knowing she’ll want to pick where she sets up.
Her eyes bounce from the chairs I’m holding to me, her jaw clenched tight. I eye her, wondering if the silent treatment is because of her ex-husband or my overstepping, but I’m determined to charm her out of the mood.
The last few weeks with her have been…nice. Not just because she’s dynamite in the sack, but because I actually enjoy hanging out with her and the kid. Usually, I would’ve already ducked out, unwilling to risk feelings developing into something more, but she never expects more of me than I give.
I don’t blame her for not wanting a relationship with anyone. Not a fucking surprise with an ex like Davis. But the way she’s shutting me out right now is putting me on edge in a way I don’t like.
She leads me to the side of the baseball field, and the coach, wearing his Sterling Sluggers cap backward, looks up, his eyes landing on Melanie with the precision of a hunter. I watch as he smiles, a hand lifting in greeting, and I turn just in time to catch Melanie waving back.
I think he might like my mom.
Harrison turns back to the kids gathered around him. Oakley’s words from weeks ago filter loudly through my mind, leaving a seething tension in my gut that wasn’t there before.
I ignore the side-eye several parents send me as a thunderous scowl takes over my face, setting the camping chairs up, my movements jerky with agitation. When I’m done, I cross my arms over my chest, facing Melanie, annoyed at the way she’s deliberately keeping her face turned away from me.
“So, Dalton.” I drop the wrong name, hoping to tease a small smile out of her.
“Does he come around often?” At my question, her shoulders stiffen, an impatient exhale leaving her lips.
She doesn’t look at me, though. Her head stays straight, focused on the kids as the coach takes them through some warm-up exercises.
“Let it go,” she says, her mouth barely moving. “I don’t even understand why you’re here. Don’t you have something better to do than come to a kid’s baseball game?” She turns, shooting daggers at me, and I glower back.
“No,” I say, my jaw jutting out. “There’s nowhere else I should be.”
She stares at me for a taut second, her eyes bouncing between mine. And then she shakes her head, telling me, “This isn’t working.” She waves a hand between us.
My chin jerks back, eyes flaring. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Lower your voice!” she orders, head swiveling to check no one’s listening to us. When her eyes land back on me, they’re guarded and closed off, as if she’s put a wall up between us. “You and me. It’s just…I need some space.”
I get right in her face, refusing to let her look away. “That’s not what you were saying this morning.” My breathing is ragged, my chest tight. I don’t dwell on the panic that’s suddenly surging through my veins. “Space was the last thing you wanted.”
Melanie’s expression hardens further, and I know I’ve messed up. There’s an icy shift between us as I watch her visibly freeze me out. I scramble for a way to undo whatever the hell is going on, whatever the hell I’ve done, but she just gives me a grim smile.
“Look, we said this was just casual, right? No expectations.” She lifts her eyebrows in challenge, and I dip my chin in reluctant agreement.
“After this morning, I’ve clearly got other things I need to be focusing on right now.
Like my son. He’s already got one deadbeat in his life.
I can’t have anyone else disappointing him. Maybe you should go.”
My vision goes hazy as anger beats out everything else.
I throw my hands up, voice getting loud.
“Again, what the hell are you talking about, lady? I’m here, aren’t I?
” I make a show of looking around, letting out a scoff.
“Your dingbat husband clearly isn’t, and now you want to tell me to take a hike?
I told Oakley I’d come, and I’m not fuckin’ leaving. ”
Melanie sucks in a startled breath at my anger, her lashes lowering to hide her eyes. I take a step closer, but she steps back, matching me, keeping the distance.
“So don’t leave,” she says quietly, resolutely. “We’re done, okay? I don’t need any extra stress in my life. Not right now.”
My stomach drops. “Melanie—”
“Thanks for a good time, Cale. And everything you’ve done to help.
” Her voice wavers, and a stone settles in my gut.
“I’m calling it. I refuse to allow my son to be hurt by more of my choices.
” She smiles, humorless and self-deprecating.
“He’s been hurt enough by those already.
” Her head tilts back, eyes locking with mine.
“I’d like it if you could keep up your friendship with Oakley.
I know he really likes you. But”—she shrugs—“no expectations, right?” Before I can say another word, Melanie walks away, her head held high as she heads toward the team and that damn coach.
My agitation increases throughout the game, my attention constantly straying from where Oakley’s playing to Melanie as she stands where all the players are sitting, her proud grin wide as she cheers her son on.
The game lasts just under two hours, and I whoop loudly when Oakley’s team is declared the winners. I don’t approach, waiting for them to come by me, grateful that I’ll get another chance to talk Melanie around on the way home.
I watch as she and Oakley head my way, their mouths moving quickly, thinking of all the ways I can talk myself into her house by the time we get back, giving me time to get her alone and change her mind. Whatever is happening between us, I’m not ready to let her call it quits.
Not yet.
Except none of it matters, because when they reach me, she tilts her head to the side and says matter-of-factly, “We’re going out for pizza with the team. Harrison has offered us a ride.”
I stare at her, mouth popping open, but Oakley is talking. “Mom already told me that you have somewhere you need to go. That’s okay. I’m really glad you came to my game.” He gives me a shy little smile. “Maybe you could come to the next one, too.”
My throat feels a little tight when I rasp, “Yeah, Killer. I’d like that.” I hold my fist out to him, and he knocks his smaller one against it. “You did good today, kid. Best one out there.”
His expression is a mix of delighted and bashful, his cheeks pinking right up. “I tried my best.”
“It shows, Killer.”
There’s a loud whistle from across the field, and I look over, seeing the coach watching us, a boy about Oakley’s age standing next to him.
Melanie clears her throat. “We’d better go. Thanks for the ride, Cale.” She pauses, eyes landing on me with something that looks like regret. It might just be wishful thinking. “We’ll see you around.”
That sounds more permanent than anything else she has said. I stare back at her, my mouth clamped shut to keep every word locked up. She holds my stare for a beat and then nods, urging Oakley away. Neither of them looks back as they head over to the coach, who leads them to his truck.
The two kids scramble into the back while Harrison holds Melanie’s door open for her. Unable to keep watching, I grab my phone and ring Paulie.
“Hey, Cale,” he greets on the third ring. “What’s up?
I moisten my lips, pressing my free hand to my sternum, rubbing at the uncomfortable ache that’s settled in just under my breastbone. “You wanna go grab a beer?”