the umpire calling a strike. The pine tar and the dirt clad knees of the players.
“From Lake Charles Louisiana, Cason Reins has been exactly what this team needed these last four years,” the announcer tells us.
I focus on Cason on the mound. He doesn’t look over at us, but I can tell it’s because he’s focused.
“Can I have that?” Tatum asks.
No, he’s mine, kid.
What? Ugh. Stop it, you stupid heart. Oh, wait, she’s talking about something else.
“What?”
Tatum points to the cotton candy another kid has. “Yummy?”
I nod. “It’s certainly yummy, but you’ll be bouncing off the walls.”
That does nothing to deter her. Sadie ends up taking her back to the concession stands for me as Cason stands on the mound.
With a deep inhale, he lifts his head and darts his eyes around the field. He kicks at the dirt in front of him, his eyes focused on Ez sixty feet from him. Nodding, he leans back, raises his hands in front of his face, and in one fluid motion, draws his right arm back and releases the ball. Thankfully he doesn’t hit a Tesla, and in turn, the ball whizzes by and hits the catcher’s mitt with a loud pop. The scoreboard lights up as the umpire bellows out the call of a strike.
98mph.
Not bad. Also, it’s stupid how good he looks in a baseball uniform. I hate it because I can’t stop staring at him.
Removing his hat, he waits for the ball to be returned and sweeps his hand across his forehead.
I notice the scouts lined up behind the cameras facing home plate, all rapidly snapping photographs. They all have radar guns and writing notes down, talking amongst themselves about his delivery, speed, and accuracy.
Pitchers with a good arm move on to the minors. Maybe play in the majors. Pitchers with a great arm, like his dad, play in the majors. Pitchers with an exceptional arm… those are the ones who carve their names in the hall of fame.
Cason is one of those exceptions.
Calm and collected from the outside, his motions on the mound, artful and fluid.
At his third strikeout to retire the inning, he leaves the mound with a smirk, and a slow shake of his head as the crowd in attendance goes ballistic. The strut, the cockiness, that self-assured man walking toward us only adds to his appeal.
Hello, roommate.
I’m fucked.
Nahla nudges me. “You’re drooling.”
I make a panting sound to be funny.
She laughs. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t be disappointed to meet him in the dugout and warm the bench.”
She rolls her eyes, picking the peanuts out of the Cracker Jacks box she has in her hand. “Do me a favor though, don’t marry him without a prenup and a separate checking account.”
She’s joking. I have absolutely no plans of getting married again, and never ever will I share a bank account again.
Sadie rips the box from her hands. “Why are you eating all the nuts out? That’s the best part.”
“Why do you think I’m eating them?”
Before Cason enters the dugout, his eyes lift to where we’re seated. His eyes seek mine under the lights of the stadium’s artificial light. He smiles, dimples forming in the corners of his mouth. And then he winks at me, and I roll my eyes, but I’m unable to keep the smile from my face.
The game passes in a blur. I think I spend more time at the concessions with Tatum and the eight trips to the bathroom where she swears, this time, she has to go. It ends in her peeing her pants and wearing no panties and me buying her a Sun Devils’ onesie to make it home because guess who didn’t bring a change of clothes for her?
This mess of a mom.
It’s after the game, before the team heads into the dugout, that Forest tries to climb over the seats to get to Nahla, while she scurries away, and Cason eyes me with that familiar flirty predatory gaze.
He gestures me forward with a nod. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
Laughter escapes me as Tatum wiggles in my arms and reaches out to take Cason’s hat right off his head. “I hope you’re not this arrogant every day.”
He smiles at Tatum and winks at her, letting her have his hat. “Does that mean you’re gonna see me every day?”
I sigh, trying to keep a hold of Tatum in my arms as she tries to limp noodle herself to the ground. “You can rent the