Page 30 of Follow the Play

I’m typing back a reply when a slew of pictures comes through. Cam on the slides, on the kiddie swings, a couple of selfies, and him with SpaghettiOs all over him. Looks like he wore more of his lunch than he actually ate. I’m smiling because so is my son, and it’s such a relief to know the nanny situation is tabled for now.

* * *

Sloane: He’s such a ham. He had green beans and applesauce for lunch, too, but didn’t eat them as well as his SpaghettiOs.

* * *

Me: He’s a messy eater for sure.

* * *

Sloane: He’s learning.

* * *

She sends a picture of Camden sleeping in his new big-boy bed.

* * *

Me: Thank you, Sloane. I’ll be home, but it will be later. Today’s a long one.

* * *

Sloane: We’re fine here. I told you that if you needed to stay, we’d be fine. Whatever you need, Baker.

* * *

Me: Thank you.

* * *

I don’t know what else to say. It’s not that I don’t trust her—I do—but I just need to be home with him. He has no idea what’s happened, and he hasn’t asked for his mom, but he will, right? One day, he’s going to ask, and we’re going to have to relive this nightmare, and I hate that for him. So, yeah, I trust her, but I need to be there for him, whether he knows what’s going on or not. I need him. He doesn’t need me.

“Hey,” Knox says, stepping into the locker room. “Afternoon meeting’s about to start.”

“I’ll be right there.” I fire off another text to Sloane.

* * *

Me: Headed into the afternoon meeting. Be home late.

* * *

Tossing my phone back into my locker, I grab my binder and head to the meeting room. The meeting drags, but it’s more about me than the coaching staff, their motivational speeches, and the playbook. I try to focus, but my head is too jumbled. Thankfully, after this meeting, we’re just doing a walk-through. The last thing I need is my ass to get laid out on the field because I can’t get my damn head in the game.

It’s just after seven when I pull into the garage. I’m exhausted, but I’m ready to see my boy. Climbing out of my SUV, I make my way into the house. I’m instantly greeted with my son’s giggles, and a smile pulls at my lips.

Fuck, it’s good to be home.

Dropping my bag in the mudroom, I let Camden’s giggles guide me. I stop just outside the living room to watch them. Sloane is lying on her back, her arms and legs in the air, with Camden lying on her feet. She holds his hand and pretends to fly him through the air. His laughter eases the tension in my shoulders.

“Air Cam preparing for landing. Over,” Sloane says, pitching her voice as if she were talking over the radio to air traffic control.

“No wand!” Camden says, through his giggles.

“Yes, land,” Sloane says back. “We have to land the plane before Daddy gets home. He’s going to need hugs.”

“Daddy hug,” Camden says, repeating after her.