Page 77 of Fair Ball

CHAPTER 22

MILLIE

It’s sold out. That’s what the announcer says during a break in the game. All 42,901 seats are filled. To watch the best players from the league in the All-Star game.

Mom wasn’t up to coming in this July heat. Although since we’ve stopped her treatments, her cheeks have gained some color again. It is a small mercy in this long and torturous journey that she doesn’t feel as nauseated and tired as she did during her chemo and radiation. There are no positive outcomes to any of this, but I try to be grateful for every good day she has, so Noah and I left her with a glass of Turkey Hill iced tea, a piece of toast, and the television on so she could watch the game.

Since the tickets for this game were almost impossible to get, even for players, Noah and I are in the nosebleeds. Noah brought his glove because he thought he might catch a foul ball, but not this high, and I rub between his shoulder blades when he complains under his breath about “missing another one.”

“You already have balls at home. And they’re signed. How many more do you want?”

He shrugs. “I could give them to my friends.”

My sweet boy. “You know you could ask Austin. I’m sure he’d give you anything you wanted. Balls, shirts, signed pictures. Whatever.”

He lifts the brim of his Thunder baseball cap. “I know, but I kinda feel bad. He’s already given me a bunch of things, and I don’t want to keep asking.”

“He won’t care. Plus, I think it makes him feel good…to be asked. He likes doing things for people. Especially you.”

Noah tries to fight a growing smile and fails. “He’s pretty awesome. And…if you decided you liked him or something, that would be okay with me.”

I outright laugh. “Yeah? I have your permission to like Austin?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, to be his girlfriend or whatever. You’re always talking to him, and when he came over that one time, he seemed to…like you.”

“What does that mean?”

He thinks for a moment, idly twisting his mitt in his hands. “He stared at you a lot, and you smiled at him a lot.”

“He stares at everyone, and I smile at everyone.”

“Yeah, but it was different. He wasn’t staring at you like he was mad. He was staring like…he liked to look at you.”

“And that means he likes me?”

My son, all of ten years old, sits up straight, telling me solemnly, “Come on, Mom. You told me about sex last year, and that humans have it because they are physically attracted to each other. I know if someone likes to look at somebody, it means they’re physically attracted to them. Austin wants to have sex with you.”

I sigh, slumping in my seat. “I never should’ve explained where babies came from.”

He shakes his head. “It’s a natural biological function.”

Yeah, I know. I am the one who told him that. But… “If you say the word sex any louder, the people around us are going to think I’m a terrible mom for giving you all that information.”

“People are prudes,” he says, and I tip my head back, laughing.

“You are the best.” I throw my arm around him to tow him to me, kissing the top of his head. “I love you so much.”

He allows me another moment to cuddle him before pushing away to cheer when the inning changes and Austin comes out to the mound to “Crazy Train” playing over the speakers. I roll my eyes.

On the jumbotron, the screen shows him adjusting his hat then licking his fingers before picking up the ball, and my mind reels with memories of where else that tongue has been. How he’s licked at me with the same intensity he displays now. How those thick fingers have brought me so much pleasure, it makes my skin heat even more than the bright summer sun.

I wick sweat away from my upper lip and clap, shouting for Austin to strike out the batter. He can’t hear me, but I like yelling it all the same.

Hyping up this man who “wants to have sex with me.”

He’s been so stressed lately, and I hate that he won’t let me help him. He won’t let me in. Won’t even explain what happened between him and Brett, the reason for their fight. I’m not the role model for perfect mental health, but I’ve worked on mine and continue to make it a priority, which is how I know that Austin will eventually crash and burn with all of this—whatever it is that makes him have anxiety attacks.

The last thing I want is for him to have a complete breakdown. Or worse.