Feisty Red (Three Chicks Brewery #2) - Stacey Kennedy Page 0,24
She drew them on her binders, had stickers on her locker, and had them in jars all around her bedroom.
Before she could respond, Mason charged out of the shed, baseball glove in hand. “I’m ready!”
“Almost ready,” Sullivan said when Mason reached them. He grabbed the Boston Red Sox baseball hat tucked into his back pocket that he’d picked up earlier in the day. He sized it down then slid it onto Mason’s head. “Now you’re officially part of the Red Sox.”
“Cool.” Mason beamed.
Sullivan gave Clara a wink then headed off to the middle of the yard. He slid into his glove and turned around. “All right, buddy, show me how you throw.”
Mason whipped the ball across the lawn, remarkably far, right into Sullivan’s glove.
Impressed by the kid—his son—Sullivan jogged over to Mason. He caught Clara and her sisters watching them intently as he settled in front of Mason again. “Wiggle out your feet a bit.” When Mason did as told, Sullivan added, “Yeah, that’s better. Turn just a little,” he instructed, gently adjusting Mason’s body posture. “There it is. That’s where you want your body to be. Don’t forget to keep your eyes on me.” Sullivan backed up a dozen steps then got into a catcher’s position. “Hit me with it,” he called.
And Mason did. Hard.
“How’d that feel?” Sullivan called, grabbing the ball from his glove.
Mason grinned from ear to ear. “That went fast.”
“It did.” Sullivan punched his glove then held it out. “Show me again.”
Throw after throw, Mason got better and stronger, reminding Sullivan of himself as a kid. Time went by slowly, and Sullivan absorbed the conversation and laughter around him. The simple life. It felt familiar and yet a world away from his life in Boston. But his best memories reminded him of this moment.
By the time Clara called Mason over for dinner, a calmness had settled over Sullivan. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Peace. Mason’s laugh, his joy and energy, it was all infectious.
“Can’t we play longer?” Mason called to Clara.
She pointed at the food. “Dinner, Mason. Now.”
When Mason pouted, Sullivan got down on one knee in front of him. “Do you know what pro ballplayers need most?”
“A good bat?” Mason asked.
Sullivan chuckled. “That and food. You need to feed your muscles, make them strong.”
Mason’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“You bet.”
Mason’s expression turned eager, his smile full of joy. “Can I tell people at school I know you?”
“Would you like to tell people you know me?”
Mason nodded.
“Then, yes,” Sullivan said. “Even tell them we played baseball together and I gave you this hat.”
“Wow, so cool,” Mason said then took off, running to the picnic table, throwing his glove into the air to hit the grass a second later. “I need to feed my muscles.”
Sullivan laughed to himself, his chest warm and light. He’d been so worried all day about this meeting, but truth was, Mason was a great kid. Funny. Clever. Curious. Strong. A definite mix of him and Clara. As he watched everyone laughing and talking, he realized he’d been so selfishly focused on forgetting his life in River Rock he forgot all the good here.
After Sullivan removed his glove, he scooped up Mason’s on the way over to the others. The steak dinner with salad and side dishes were set up on the long table next to the grill. Obviously, the family had big dinners like this often.
Sullivan waited with Hayes off the side while the women and Luka began filling their plates. Hayes all but glared at Luka, and Sullivan held back his laugh. Apparently, Luka wasn’t raised with the good ole’ boy hospitability found in River Rock.
Hayes finally turned to Sullivan. “Maisie told me and Beckett earlier what maybe we all knew all along.” He gestured toward Mason. “Must have been a shock to you.”
Sullivan snorted. “A shock is putting it mildly.”
Hayes chuckled before his smile faded. “You did good today. Couldn’t have been easy coming here, facing all this.” The side of his mouth curved. “Especially with the Carter sisters watching your every move.”
The thought had crossed Sullivan’s mind, but he’d hoped his earlier gesture helped his case. “Ah, you’re a cop. I figured they’d be on their best behavior.”
“As if I can control any of them,” Hayes said, dead serious.
Sullivan laughed, his gaze falling back to the table as Luka picked up his plate and began scooping up his food before Amelia. “So, when did this happen?” Sullivan asked, gesturing to Luka.
“A year after you left. They met in