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Trailing my fingers down her arms to her hands, I slowly back away toward the locker room. She holds on as long as possible.

Chapter thirty-one

Danae

Peals of laughter compete with the shouts of concession workers walking the stands. Self-confident armchair commentary surrounds me, drowning out the announcements from the speakers. Peanut shells crack and beer cans pop open as I try to retrain the negative associations in my brain.Tryto hate this atmosphere a little less.

In the bottom of the first inning, Griffin’s turn at-bat comes. I perk up in my seat for the first time, watching him approach home plate. As his name and position come over the speakers, the announcer says, “And we’ve got a new walk-up song for Griffin West today.”

I listen closely as the song starts off quietly, but a smile spreads across my face as I realize what it is. Griffin twirls the bat in one hand and looks toward our seats with a huge grin.Be still, my heart.

“It’s theHarry Pottertheme, Mom!” Jason yells, standing to jump up and down. “I bet he picked that because of—” I quickly but playfully clap my hand over Jason’s mouth, giving him a look to remind him we’re not calling attention to the fact that we know Griffin while we’re here.

“Looks like the Wizard of Defense decided to play up the nickname with the music this year!” the announcer says in a vibrant voice.

Wrapping an arm around Jason’s shoulders, I squeeze him in a hug. “That’s definitely for you, bud,” I say, voice low.

Jason grins at me. “For us.”

After one ball and one strike, Griffin makes contact and sends the ball past the opponent’s shortstop, successfully running to first base. Unfortunately, the next two batters strike out, and Griffin is left stranded on first as the inning closes out.

Play continues, and I’d say the energy of the crowd is contagious, but I’d be lying. Aside from the moments that Griffin is at-bat, I’m mostly bored to tears.

Jason, on the other hand, is living his best life. No, not justhisbest life.THEbest life there ever was, if his smiles and enthusiasm are any indication. His running commentary of every swing, every catch, every out keeps me amused, at least. It also informs me of all the appropriate lingo for what’s taking place in the game.

Eight innings in, the score is still 0–0. Very few batters have even made it on base for either team. Thus far, none of the opposing team’s hits have gone in Griffin’s direction, so we haven’t really been able to see him in action. He did get a double on his second at-bat, but he was left stranded once again. I’m really and truly baffled by the level of passion fans have for such a snoozefest.

As the game transitions to the ninth inning, I stifle a yawn.I wish I had my Kindle with me. Trying to dismiss the thought, I remind myself: I love my son, who loves baseball. I really,reallylike (love?) Griffin, who loves baseball.

But I do not love baseball. Facts are facts.

I hope that Griffin can see that I care about him, even if I don’t share this particular passion of his.

The first batter for the opponents strikes out, but the second hits a double. The next batter makes a base hit, giving the runner at second the opportunity to make it to third base with only one out.

As the next batter comes up to the plate, I see Griffin crouch and ready himself. When the batter makes contact with the ball, it bounces on the field right in Griffin’s direction. Almost before I can track where the ball is going, Griffin fields it and throws to second base at lightning speed. The second baseman, Luke, stomps the bag and immediately throws to first, where Drew catches it with his foot on base just in time to make the out.

The Crowns fans go wild cheering, and I stand up to jump and scream along with Jason. Adrian makes a flourishing curtsy toward Griffin, who tips his hat and bows in return. He looks over his shoulder at us as he jogs off the field, and I hope he could see us cheering for him. “That was the fastest double play I’ve ever seen in real life!” Jason exclaims as we take our seats. “I mean, it was the only double play I’ve seen in real life, but I bet it would still be the fastest even if I’d seen lots.”

Drew is the first at-bat in the bottom of the ninth inning, and he hits a triple. Griffin comes up to bat next, doing the same series of warm-up moves he’s done the past two times. The first pitch is a ball, and Griffin settles back into his stance. With the next pitch, his swing is followed by that satisfyingcrackof the bat, and he takes off running to first. It’s only a single but hit in the perfect direction to give Drew time to make it home and end the game with a run.

When the cheering over the win dies down, Jason looks up at me. “Well, it wasn’t another home run, but it was still the game-winning hit. So I think it still counts for me.”

Laughing, I give him a playful shove. “I’d say so! Don’t get too greedy!”

Jason’s eyes widen with shock. “You got me the game-winning ball?!”

Griffin grins at Jason from where he’s kneeling at eye-level. “Sure did! I tracked the ball down, and then Drew and I both signed it for you.”

Holding the ball with reverence, Jason whispers, “Thank you.” In the next breath, he’s diving forward, wrapping his arms around Griffin’s neck. “I’m gonna display this on top of my dresser forever,” he says.

Griffin looks up at me as he hugs Jason, a tender expression in his eyes. He winks in response to the smile I give him, and heat floods my core. As if he can sense the effect of his wink on me, his own smile twists into a self-satisfied smirk. He gives Jason one more squeezebefore standing up to immediately plant a kiss on my lips. A move I’m not protesting at all, especially since we finally have the privacy of his condo.

“Adrian and Sam should be here with the tacos any minute. Can I get you something to drink?” Griffin asks.

“Water is great. Unless you have a cranberry club soda from Jeff hiding out in your fridge,” I reply.

“I wish,” Griffin says, opening a cabinet door to get two glasses. “As soon as I get back to KC, I’m taking you to Capital Grille again. We’ll have two rounds of the Jeff special.” He turns to Jason. “You want water or a Gatorade?”