I narrow my eyes at him, knowing he had a vindictive streak years ago and having no doubt in my mind that he’d sabotage my life in retaliation for the lies I’ve told.
“I need to know the woman who is around my son,” he tosses back at me, those words spoken from my own lips now making my stomach turn sour.
“I don’t have time to date. Raising a preteen and working all the time to support him doesn’t leave much room for things like men, travel, and having the time of my life.”
“You chose those struggles,” he reminds me. “I would’ve been around if I’d known. I would’ve helped raise and support our son. You didn’t have to do it alone.”
My jaw flexes, the need to run warring with the desire to shake the hell out of him.
“Excuse me if not sticking around for the guy who told me he loved me so he could use me for sex wasn’t high on my priority list.”
His fork hovering over his dinner falls from his fingers, but he doesn’t argue my statement.
“We’re getting off track,” I mutter, hating the scrutiny of his glare. “I’m here to talk about Alex and what’s best for him.”
“And I’m sure you think you know what’s best?”
His words hit me like a slap to the face. It’s another dig at my choices and his contempt of them.
“I can’t change the past, and if we can’t just agree to move forward, then this isn’t going to work.”
“You make it sound like you’re allowing me to be in his life, but understand, Tinley, not being a part of his life isn’t an option. I should’ve been around from day one.”
I open my mouth to snap at him, to ask him if he honestly thinks he would’ve stuck around had he known, but that’s just another branch of the argument that will get us nowhere.
“He doesn’t want you around,” I say instead.
“I’m going—”
Surprisingly, he stops when I hold my hand up to silence him.
“He’s twelve. He doesn’t know what’s best, but just showing up and expecting him to welcome you in his life isn’t going to happen. He’s had a hard time since Dad died. I haven’t dated. He hasn’t had to share me with—”
“This isn’t about sharing you, Tinley. I don’t need a relationship with you or your time to get to know him.”
That hurts more than it probably should.
“I’ll do what it takes to make that boy understand he never has to worry about me leaving.”
You left me. You’ll do the same to him when things get tough.
“I’ll put in the time and effort. Whatever is required for him to trust me.”
“He needs positive influences in his life.” I hate that Mr. Branford’s words are coming out of my mouth, especially since I shot them down when they were spoken to me. “But you have to stick around. I don’t want him getting used to you only for you to disappear when you get bored.”
Like you did with me. There are so many other women out there—
God, I’d sell my soul to never have to replay that night with him again.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I nod, and when he doesn’t try to stop me when I turn to leave this time, it manages to kill another tiny part of me. I get the feeling there won’t be anything left of me before this is all said and done.
Chapter 13
Ignacio
“Everyone is going to run laps if we keep making that mistake!” Coach Brian Raney yells as the outfielder misses another catch.
I’ve been coming to afternoon practices for the last week, each time trying to talk to Alex but accepting when he just walks past me on the way to Tinley’s car.
Each day I ask him if he wants to go grab something to eat, and each day he just sneers at me as he shuffles past. Although I’m still livid about being put in the position to have to get to know my son at twelve, I extended an olive branch and messaged Tinley a couple days ago offering to take him home every day after practice, but she shot me down. I don’t know if that is just another way for her to control the narrative or if Alex mentioned not wanting to be alone with me.
My heart aches to know everything about him, but he’s made it impossible so far.
“If everyone hustled like Holland does, we wouldn’t have lost last week’s game!” Coach yells again. “I need to see some fire, guys!”
I grin as Alex sneers. Because of his suspension from school, Alex didn’t even get to play last week’s game. Not only was he benched, but Raney didn’t even let him attend the game. Alex and Tinley came to watch his team play however, sitting in the bleachers as far away from me as possible. I tried not to take it as a personal affront, but it was hard.
Coach means well, but singling one person on the team out for being awesome while insulting everyone else doesn’t usually go over well later in the locker room or when there aren’t adults around to referee, especially not with the kids on this team who battle with injustices every day of their lives.
“Come on, Jones!” Alex cheers as his peer takes his spot at the plate. “Show us what you can do!”
His teammate grins before focusing on the pitcher. Most of these practices are brutal, Coach expecting the most out of them while the players treat each other like rivals. They’re struggling with cohesion—something I know is of utmost importance—because they’ve learned to only look out for number one. Too many struggles and disappointments make it hard for these kids to depend on anyone else in their lives but themselves.
I know the mechanics of baseball, but I’ve discovered in my spare time watching videos and reading things online in an attempt to understand the sport my son loves that there’s more to it than hitting the ball and running the bases. There’s so much strategy involved, it’s overwhelming.
Practice continues with Coach yelling his disappointments with praise sprinkled in, and I notice the kids striving for his simple accolades, working hard to please him. I imagine they don’t have many people in their lives who take the time to tell them when they’ve done something good. Life is like that in many capacities. Most people tend to exert energy expressing disappointment when things are bad, having the expectation that good things are supposed to happen regardless of the effort given.
When practice is over, I push away from the fence, nodding at Coach Raney when he dips his head in my direction. As always, Alex helps him pick up the extra bats and balls. I don’t know if my son is just helpful, being generous with his time in an effort to get back in Coach’s good graces after getting into so much trouble at school, or if he’s strategically trying to avoid me by busying himself with other tasks.
I wait, just like I do each day, by the gate leading off the field. Only today, something changes. Instead of Alex’s mouth forming a flat line, there’s a small smile on his face. He had a great practice, and by the end, many of the other players were finally in synch.
“Great practice,” I tell him as he nears.
“We’re getting there,” he mutters, his attitude still in place.
I’m just grateful he’s speaking to me, but I risk ruining it with my daily offer. “Wanna grab something to eat?”