Page 4 of Sterling Touch
I always knew there’d be a day when Cort’s path might cross mine, but I also always thought it would be more like an intersection and then diverge again in opposite directions. However, if . . .no, when. . . Hudson makes this team, I’ll be seeing Cort more often in the next six months than I’ve seen him in the past decade.
I’m a big girl now, compared to the child who grew up around Cort, and that means I wear big girl panties. I can face him. I can even be cordial toward him.
I donotneed to recall how his hands were once on my waist, or his breath tickled my ear when I was in my early twenties.
Glancing at Cort again, I catch on his eyes for a second before dragging mine away. I hate feeling like a coward, accepting defeat by pulling back first. I’m the queen of stare downs, having mastered the skill with my brothers and I’ve picked up a steely glare as a mother. But there’s something intimidating about Cort looking at me. Not in a frightening sense. Not in a threatening way. The sensation is more of a weird magnetism that had us meeting eyes across a crowded bar twelve years ago. A time when I justknewhe was checking me out and I wasn’t shy about staring back at him.
Then there was the day after and?—
A loud clap snaps me out of my revelry, causing me to flinch a little at the suddenness of two firm hands slapping together.
“All right, everyone. Let’s hit the field and give it all you’ve got.” Clint’s masculine tenor isn’t as dominant as his eldest brother. His cheerful voice is full of positive encouragement and the kids respond by climbing up to their feet, gathering what they need for their assigned stations, and heading to the locations marked by cones for fielding, hitting, catching, and pitching.
Hudson wants to be a pitcher, which worries me. There’s a lot of pressure on the mound, and my brother Ford, a former Chicago Anchors baseball star, has tried to convince my son that centerfield is an equally important position on the team.
“How’s he gonna get the girls in the outfield?” my brother Knox had teased.
“What do I care about girls?” Hudson answered.
I smiled at the exchange.That’s right, baby. Don’t grow up too fast.
While I silently pray romantic love will find Hudson one day, for now, I want his eyes on the ball and his heart on the field, enjoying his time as a kid. Love complicates everything. Plus, I’d grown up too fast and I never want that for Hudson. I was pretty confident he was right where he should be. At eleven, his life was easy.
With that in mind, I watch the kids scatter while Cort approaches the parents. When he comes to a full stop, his legs spread again. He’s wearing a straw cowboy hat instead of a baseball cap, which contrasts with the athletic pants he’s sporting. Up close, I notice that he’s cut his once chin-length hair, so it curls around his ears. Salt peppers the thick dirty rust coloring along his jaw line.
Somehow, he still looks like a Viking to me.
“Parents,” he addresses the adults, offering a crooked smile that does little to dispel his unease. His expression suggests dealing with the parents is his least favorite part of hosting this team. “We only have a few rules for you during these tryouts. Let the kids do their job. And let them have fun.”
Cort’s eyes drift to one particular dad. Henry Stanton is a stern-looking man and a bit of a loudmouth, always thinking his kid is better than the others, always thinkingheknows it all. How to play baseball. How to win a science fair. How to cheat the system.
He rubs me the wrong way, and unfortunately, we keepbumping into each other because Hudson has developed a new friendship with his son, Atticus. The boy is one half of a fraternal set of twins. With Henry being a single dad while I’m a single mom, there’s a camaraderie he thinks we have, which we don’t. Single parenthood is the only line we share, and one I’m not interested in crossing with him.
Next, Cort’s gaze roams to Veronica Archer. Her daughter Kennedy is trying out for the team, and I’m impressed by how progressive Cort and Clint are by allowing her here. Ronnie is a buxom brunette in her forties, who lost her husband two years ago and since then she’s made quite a reputation for herself, constantly hitting on the few available single men in our community. There is no reason for her to stay home, dressed in black, weeping for the remainder of her days. But her penchant for also hitting on married men gives Ronnie a bad reputation.
Cheating is a hard limit for me and the thought draws my attention back to Cort a second.
My eyes narrow when I glance back at Ronnie, who is twirling a long strand of hair around her manicured finger. Slowly blinking her eyelids at Cort, she curls her lips like a hook that suggests she’d like to catch him and eat him for dinner.
I hate how my gaze pings back toward Cort like I’m watching some reality television show playout. An announcer voice goes off in my head:Will he fall for her charm?
Cort’s eyes only remain on Ronnie for a second before he flicks a glance in my direction again, glaring at me likeI’mthe one looking for trouble, when I’m standing here all innocent and anxious over my boy.
“We’d prefer if you kept all cheers and jeers to yourself.” His head whips back in the direction of Henry Stanton, pinning him with another hard stare. “Let the kids concentrate. And have fun.”
Henry’s mouth falls open, and God only knows what mighttumble from those loose lips, before Cort adds, “I’m not opposed to throwing any parent who violates these requirements out of this tryout.”
For some reason, his gaze comes back to me, and I roll my lips inward, fighting a willful retort of my own.
What the hell did I ever do tohim?
But then I remember exactly what happened between us, and how it made Cort weep afterward.
3
[Cort]
Fuck. Why does Vale Sylver have to be so beautiful? Women have this fear that growing older ages them in ways men might find unattractive, but there is something about Vale that just makes her more stunning with each passing decade of her life.
