Page 4

Chapter four

Griffin

I watch a ball whiz past me and let out a low whistle.

“Whoa-ho, easy there, Fireball. You’ve got quite the power on that arm, but we've gotta work on your throwing accuracy,” I say to the tiny kid in front of me.

His bright red hair adds another dimension to the “Fireball” nickname I'd just bequeathed in response to that wild throw.

I motion for him to follow me to one of the throwing practice nets set up on the field.

Half of the kids are working on batting practice with Drew Sheffield, our first baseman and strongest hitter. The other half are working on catching and throwing skills with me. Of course, we have plentiful staff and volunteers milling around helping out as well.

“What did you say your name was again, Fireball?” I ask the kid as he scampers after me.

“Jason!” he says, stars in his eyes. “But you can call me Fireball if you want, Mr. West.”

“Only if you call me Griffin,” I respond, grinning down at him.

His eyes light up even more but then cloud over. I crouch down to get on his eye level. “Whatcha thinking about there, Jason?”

He shuffles his feet. “I was just thinking that I should apologize to you for being here.” He’s avoiding eye contact, so I gently poke him in the stomach.

“And why’s that?” I ask.

“I shouldn’t get to be at this camp,” Jason begins.

He sniffs hard. “My social worker told me about it a long time ago, and I was so excited. But it’s a camp for foster kids, and I’m getting adopted.

I moved in with my new mom last month—she’s the librarian at my school, and she’s really nice.

Like, really nice. She always asked me how I was doing and listened to me, and she helped me find books that I would like that made me feel better.

And now she says she’s gonna love me and be my mom forever.

So I’m not really a foster kid anymore, and I took the spot of another kid without a mom who could be here instead of me.

But I was excited because I love baseball so much that I still came even though that’s not fair. ”

He’s spoken so quickly, I don’t think he took a single breath. His eyes look like floodgates of tears could burst at any moment, like he’s terrified of how I’m going to react to his admission.

The tussle of emotions this kid is experiencing—is expressing—reminds me of all the jumbled emotions that were consistently rotating in and out of our home. My chest hurts looking into Jason’s eyes.

I give him a gentle smile. “Hey, little man, I’m so glad for you that you have a new mom who’s so nice to you. She sounds amazing. But you have every right to be here at this camp, and I’m happy that you are. I appreciate you telling me that, though. How old are you?”

“I’m nine, but I’ll be ten in February,” he says, puffing out his chest.

So young to have so much awareness.

“You’re awfully thoughtful for your age, you know that, Fireball?” He widens his eyes and nods slowly, like I gave him the world’s best compliment.

I nudge his arm with my baseball glove. “You’ve got a strong arm there, but I want you to work on throwing the ball accurately, not only hard. See how many times you can hit that square in the middle of the net, even if it means you don’t throw the ball as hard as you can, okay?”

“Yes, sir!” Jason says with gravitas. He immediately pivots to practice throwing and manages to hit the square on his first try.

He quickly looks up at me, eager for positive feedback.

I hoot and holler wildly to celebrate his success.

The beaming smile on his face is the greatest reward for the simplest “favor” I’ve ever done .

As much as I’d like to hang here and continue talking with this interesting little guy, I need to spread my attention around to the other kids.

I make the rounds to give tips and pointers to each of the kids in my group, but I can’t resist the pull to keep returning to Jason.

Every encouragement I give him lights up his whole demeanor.

The way he soaks up every word I speak makes me want to arrange for him to attend a few games this season.

I’m a little sad when his group swaps to batting practice.

At the end of the first day, we make a big deal about presenting each of the kids with their exclusive Camp Wizard gear—baseball gloves, a bat and ball, plus t-shirts and hats, naturally.

We give Drew an enthusiastic round of applause for helping with batting practice today, and then we release the kids to the lobby.

Normally, I let the volunteers escort the kids back to their designated guardians on the first two days of camp, saving my face time with the adults for the grand finale of the camp.

However, I find myself undeniably drawn to seek out Jason’s new adoptive mother, to let her know what a thoughtful, sensitive kid she has on her hands.

Confident that Sam will have her phone on her, I shoot her a text as I duck into one of the offices.

ME

Hey, can you make up an excuse to have Jason’s guardian come back to the office? I want to tell her about something Jason said today.

SAM

Sure. With or without Jason there?

ME

Just her.

SAM

Okay. I’ll have someone take Jason to grab an extra t-shirt or something.

A few minutes later, I hear Sam chatting and laughing with another feminine voice. I step out into the hallway to meet them .

I’m caught off guard by the stunning woman standing beside my sister.

Her wavy hair is a deep reddish-brown with copper streaks catching the light.

She’s taller than Sam by a few inches but probably five inches shorter than my six-foot frame.

As she draws closer, I’m taken in by her hazel eyes, golden centers crowded by deep green pools.

The jolt of physical attraction disables my brain long enough to stretch my silence into awkward territory.

Sam shoots me a weird look. “This is Danae Collins, Jason’s new mom. You said you wanted to tell her something about Jason?” Sam prompts.

Danae’s face visibly falls. “Oh no. Did something bad happen? Did he have a meltdown? This morning was rocky, but I thought we’d talked through everything enough that he was feeling better about coming. I was really hoping he’d have a good day.”

“No, absolutely nothing went wrong with Jason at camp,” I quickly assure her. “Quite the opposite. He was a bright spot all day. I wanted to tell you about something especially thoughtful he said to me.”

I fill Danae in on Jason’s conflicted confession.

“Not many nine-year-olds have the awareness to even consider whether they’re qualified for an event like this, much less to feel guilty about potentially taking someone else’s spot.

He’s a good kid. And he went on and on about how nice you are and how lucky he is to have you as his mom.

He talked about you helping him find books that made him feel better when he was younger and how you’re going to love him forever now. ”

Danae blinks back tears. The surprise and gratitude in her eyes only make her look more beautiful as she says, “Oh gosh. Thank you so much for taking the time to tell me that. Hearing that he told you those things . . . I can’t explain how much that means.

” She pauses to collect her emotions, and I’m hit with an urge to comfort her.

She shrugs as she continues, “It’s only been a month, but I’m constantly questioning myself.

I’ve felt like I’m screwing this whole thing up more times than I could count.

To hear that he was so positive today is the encouragement I needed after this morning.

I really can’t thank you enough for going out of your way to tell me about this. ”

She wipes a finger under each eye and smiles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask your name. Are you one of the volunteers running the camp?” Danae asks.

Sam snorts.

I clear my throat to stop myself from laughing. Is she serious? She looks completely serious . Holding a hand out, I say, “I’m Griffin West.”

Danae’s eyes go wide. “Oh, this is your camp? You’re one of the players for the Crowns?”

Darting my eyes to Sam, I see the considerable amount of effort it’s taking her not to bust out laughing. She’ll be teasing me about this for days. Weeks, more likely.

“Yep,” I answer. “I play shortstop for the Crowns.” I glance down to where my hand is still hanging in midair, which jolts Danae into reciprocating the handshake.

It sounds stupid to say that sparks fly the moment her hand meets mine. That kind of movie nonsense doesn’t happen in real life.

Or, maybe it does happen, and I had never experienced it before this moment.

Or, maybe I’m wildly intrigued by this striking, compassionate woman who had zero clue who I was. Rather than feeling annoyed by her lack of recognition, it’s oddly refreshing. Kansas Citians are passionate about their sports teams. So flying under the radar rarely occurs for me.

“I’m so sorry,” Danae says, voice higher pitched than it was a moment ago. “I feel so dumb.”

“Don’t feel dumb,” Sam says, mirth in her tone. “It’s good for Griff to get a dose of reality every now and then so he doesn’t get a big head from all the adoring fans.”

Danae looks to Sam with a quizzical expression.

“This joker is my big brother,” Sam explains, smile growing wider.

Now, Danae fully covers her face with her hands.

“I am beyond embarrassed,” she mumbles. She drops her hands, and the pink in her cheeks only makes her more attractive than she already was.

“Well, thank you for accepting Jason to this camp. For putting this camp on in the first place—it’s an incredible thing that you’re doing here.

I confess I’m not much of a baseball fan, but this is Jason’s dream come true. ”

The tone in her voice when she confesses to not liking baseball intrigues me even further. I’d like to ask a hundred follow-up questions about where that dislike came from, but I bite my tongue. This is hardly the time or place for a personal interrogation.

I might need to create the appropriate time and place.

“I’d better get Jason back home. He’s bound to be exhausted after all the excitement today,” Danae says, then turns to Sam. “I promise I’ll get him here on time tomorrow.”

“And then you’ll go sit at a coffee shop with your book all day, right?” Sam insists.

Danae’s smile warms, and I’m inexplicably compelled to keep that smile on her face as much as possible.

“Promise,” she replies to Sam, then turns back to me. “Thanks again for being so kind to Jason and taking time to tell me about your conversation. And for not making me feel even more like an idiot than I already do from not knowing who you were.”

I give her my most genuine smile. “I’m glad I got to truly meet you.”

As she follows Sam back out to the lobby to find Jason, I mull over our interaction. Combing through if I did anything to give off weird vibes. I hope I didn’t.

Because I am extremely glad I got to meet Danae Collins.