Page 32

Sighing, I watch Aly in the distance, standing next to Tori now. Reaching down, I grab a pair of gloves from my bag I picked up before coming to practice.

I didn’t want to coach, remember? But if it means helping her kids, I will, because I’ve been in their shoes. I know why Cash is acting out, but Grady, he seems entirely different. He’s a good kid, kind and gentle, so unlike the harshness of his cold twin brother. I relate to Cash more, but Grady, he reminds me so much of Aly I can’t help but want to be near him.

He’s sitting in the grass, frowning, picking at the blades and piling them on his black pants.

I kneel next to him, then sit down on the ground and hand him a pair of running back gloves.

Grady picks them up and then stares at me, brushing grass from his legs. “What are those?”

“They’re for you,” I tell him. “They’re running back gloves.”

His hazel brown eyes light up. Fuck he looks like his mom when he’s happy. “What do they do?”

I wink at him, leaning back on my hands. “Help you catch the ball.”

“Do they work?”

“Let’s try them out.” I motion toward the ball a few feet from him. Wanna take a few throws?”

In the distance, I can see Aly is watching my interaction with her son. I can’t see from here what her reaction is, but it’s probably earning me some points, right?

Grady and I stand. He puts the gloves on and then runs upfield about twenty feet. “Okay, I’m ready.” He stares at the ball in my hand with such determination I almost laugh.

“Are you sure?”

He claps his hands together, the sound dulled by the leather gloves. “Yep.”

Drawing in a breath, I pull my arm back and toss the ball to him.

He drops it.

Tears surface. “I can’t do it.”

I make a clicking sound with my tongue. “None of that, dude.” I motion for him to throw the ball back. “Let’s try again. Watch the ball the moment it leaves my hand. Don’t take your eyes off it.”

He nods, tosses the ball back, and adjusts his gloves, staring at them. Then he spits in them and looks up at me. “I’m ready.”

I don’t want to tell him spitting in them probably isn’t wise, but whatever. One step at a time.

We go through the process two or three more times and finally, on the fourth time, he catches the ball. Widened eyes drop to the ball in his hand, a smile forming, bright and beaming, just like his mother again.

“I did it!” he screams, running toward me. “I did it, Ridge!”

And then he’s hugging my legs, and I can’t help but smile myself. I kneel and wrap my arms around him. I can’t remember the last time I hugged a child or anyone where I felt this much emotion. I want to. . . I don’t even know. It’s a surge of something I can’t place. Pride, love, confusion. . . . I really can’t place it, but I don’t let him go right away.

Grady pulls back, that little speck of brown in his left eye noticeable in the setting sun. “Can I keep the gloves?”

If you let me kiss your mom.

“You bet you can.” I stand up, distancing myself from him.

He runs away, toward Cash on the field, and my stare finds Aly’s again. She’s still watching me, but her stance is more relaxed. I certainly didn’t want to lead her kids on or involve them in any way, but fuck, maybe they’d help me out and get her to like me again.

I know what you’re thinking. Ridge, you’re using them. I’m not though. I wouldn’t do that. They’re helping me out.