Ask Me Why(56)

“Is this where we’re sitting?” There’s a tinge of wonder in Braelyn’s voice.

I shake my head. “Nah. We hang out here during pitching and batting practice. The players are pretty good about giving the kids a ball once they’re done warming up. Ollie loves this stuff.”

As if proving my point, he’s hanging over the railing and waving to the coach. A few guys jog over to slap his little palm. Ollie eats up the attention, giving them all an award-winning smile.

Braelyn watches closely, taking everything in. “So, you used to play?”

I suck in a deep breath and look up to the cloudless sky. “I did. Second base shortstop to be exact.”

“Yeah? In high school?”

I scrub over the stubble lining my jaw. “Uh-huh. I was pretty decent. Made varsity as a sophomore. Scouts were already sniffing around my games. The coaches were grooming me to go pro. I ate up the attention like pudding snacks.”

Braelyn glances over. “What happened?”

“My mother.”

I feel her stiffen beside me. This is the point where I always veer off-topic. But there’s something different about tonight. Fuck it.

“My mother tolerated the sport for long enough. She wouldn’t have her only son wasting his life being an athlete. I needed to become some prestigious business owner or a crooked politician to appease her. That wasn’t the life I wanted.” I widen my stance and get lost in the diamond pattern crossing the outfield.

I lift the hat off my head, only to tug it right back down. I lower the brim to shield my eyes. “It was more than her habit of being pretentious, of course. She knew how much I loved playing, saw it as a way to hurt me. Taking baseball away was a direct hit. My coach tried to reason with her. He was willing to sponsor me and take care of the paperwork. But nothing would sway her decision. She wasn’t having this sort of groveling at her doorstep any longer. She made it clear that any opposition would end in a bloody battle. It wasn’t worth his effort, or mine. My mother wouldn’t stop, and I knew that well enough. I didn’t let her see how much that crushed me. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.”

The popcorn in my stomach curdles into sour acid. I swallow the thick bile down, coughing over the darkness in my past. The only strength through this disgusting pit was the woman next to me. By some unspoken reason, I knew she understood.

“She never laid a hand on me.” I spit the words out. “Her form of abuse was emotional. She used my love against me. A total mindfuck for a child. No mother should threaten to take her affection away. My father was helpless against her. She was the mom, and our system grants them full custody far too easily. He tried to fight her in court but lost over and again. She thought it was hilarious that I was stuck with her. Just one more way to torture me. I tried to leave a handful of times, but the police always brought me back. She was vindictive and spiteful. I don’t wish her hate on my worst enemies, even Veronica.”

Braelyn shivers beside me, and I loop an arm around her shoulders. “I’m fine. Stronger because of it. She was my sole motivation behind becoming a lawyer. I wanted to fight for those who couldn’t on their own. She might have given birth to me, claimed the title of mother, but I never called her Mommy. I have to thank her for the valuable lessons. I’ll let Ollie play whatever sports he’s interested in. He can study any major. I already have a hard time telling him no. But that doesn’t seem like a problem.” One of the finest points of that fact is currently snuggling against my chest.

“You’re an amazing father.” Braelyn grips my forearm, and I tighten my hold on her.

I stare at her fingers linked around me, choosing not to focus on the pounding in my chest. “That means a lot. Thank you.”

She cuddles closer. “Thank you.”

I bend backwards until her face is visible. “For what?”

“Trusting me.”

“Bottling it up doesn’t help anyone. You make it easier to share.”

Her forehead bunches. “I do?”

“Of course. You’ve been through far worse.”

She looks down at her tennis shoes. “It’s all relative.”

“Whatever makes you feel better.”

Before I can open my big mouth any wider, Ollie bounds up to us. He looks at Braelyn curled around me, smiling in that secretive way. I drop my arms, and she slinks out of reach.

“I was keeping Braelyn warm.”

It’s a balmy eighty degrees out here.

Ollie’s grin spreads. “That was nice of you. But the game is gonna start. We should find our seats.”

I point across the field. “We’re in the home-run porch. Ollie’s dream is to catch a ball. So far, we’ve struck out.”

He shakes his mitt. “It’s gonna happen today. I can feel it.”

Braelyn squeezes the leather glove. “Definitely. This is your lucky game.”

Ollie bounces in place, gobbling up the possibility. It’s bound to happen sooner or later with the amount of games we attend. Maybe she’s right about tonight.

As we’re nearing our row, Braelyn glances around. She hitches a thumb toward the sign. “I’m going to the bathroom before the excitement starts.”

Ollie stands quietly beside me while we wait near the aisle. I grab a handful of peanuts and start cracking the shells.