Stealing Home Page 4

  As they grew closer to the group, Leslie looked back at them from over his shoulder, as if he was somehow drawn to their very presence. Ryann felt the hint of a blush warm her face when her brown eyes met his blue ones, and her stomach fluttered at the sight of his small smile. Though, his gaze didn’t linger on her long. When his eyes shifted down and he noticed Cohan, a slight scowl pinched his eyebrows together. He broke away from the group and headed toward them before they could reach the others.

  “Hey. It’s game day,” he started to say as he crouched down in front of Cohan. “What’s with the frown?” He peeked up at Ryann for a second and then playfully made a big show of trying to see beneath the bill of Cohan’s hat.

  To Ryann’s surprise, Cohan didn’t hesitate to softly reply, “My dad’s going to miss the game.”

  “Oh. I see.” Leslie looked down at his feet and expelled a heavy sigh. Seconds later, a small smile curled the corner of his mouth. He lifted his gaze and flicked the tip of Cohan’s hat so he could see into his eyes. “You know what? I think that’s okay. It’s our first game. We’ve got to get the kinks out. So what do you say? Let’s do a test run, and then we’ll be ready for your dad next game.”

  Cohan hesitated a moment, peered up at Ryann, and then slowly let go of her hand. Looking at Leslie, he nodded and replied, “’Kay.”

  He still didn’t appear entirely satisfied, but it was more progress than anyone else had made that day. When Leslie rose to full height, he winked at Ryann and then tapped Cohan’s shoulder. “Come on,” he insisted. “Team huddle.”

  Then, just like that, they were off to join the others.

  Ryann hesitated for a moment, watching them as they went, surprised by how awkward that wasn’t. As she turned to join her parents, she fought the desire to look over her shoulder at Leslie. She felt perplexed by his easy manner—as if he hadn’t struck out when he’d asked her on a date. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Ryann knew she should be relieved; however, that wasn’t what she felt at all.

  On her way to the bleachers, which accommodated a larger crowd than their practice field, she ran into Steven and his wife, Greta. It took about ten seconds for Ryann to surmise she and Greta would be fast friends. She was a curvy woman and soft around the edges. Her head was full of the most beautiful auburn hair, and she had an adorably contagious laugh. She was so pleasant, she almost made Ryann forget about her most recent encounter with Leslie. Almost. Nonetheless, Ryann set aside the temptation to check on the man and Cohan as she invited the couple to sit with her and her parents. By the time they’d settled in and introductions had been made, it was time for the game to begin.

  “So, which one is he? The one with the clipboard?” asked Peggy as she leaned toward Ryann. Her voice was low as she whispered conspiratorially.

  Ryann’s spine straightened and she looked around, as if to check to make sure no one had heard her mother. “Mom!” she hissed. She shrank a little when she realized no one paid them any mind.

  “What? I’d like to get a good look at him.”

  Ryann closed her eyes and shook her head. In a moment of weakness, she’d confided in her mother about Leslie. Despite the fact that she didn’t think it was a good idea to accept his invitation to coffee or dinner—he wasn’t picky—she didn’t want the moment to slip away, like it hadn’t happened at all. It was the first time in longer than she could remember that someone had shown any sort of interest in her. At least, it was the first time she cared to notice; and she thought, if she didn’t tell someone, the memory might slip away and turn to dust.

  “No, sweetheart, that’s not him. The head coach is the one in the khaki shorts, there,” muttered Scott as he pointed.

  Ryann’s eyes opened wide, and she turned toward her parents in shock. She quickly reached around her mother and batted down her father’s hand. “What are you doing?” she mock whispered. “And how do you know which one he is?”

  “I looked him up, of course,” Scott stated, as if it should have been obvious. “It’s one thing for you to teach my grandson a little baseball—but if you’re interested in my daughter—”

  “Dad!” Ryann hushed.

  “He is quite handsome,” piped in Peggy.

  “Oh, my god. Is this happening?”

  “From what I could tell, he’s a good ol’ boy. All American,” Scott began. “Grew up here in Texas and then went to school in Arizona. He played for a couple years on their minor league team and then got traded up to the Cardinals. Played pro ball for three years, until he got hurt. But that didn’t stop him. Nope, healed up and did a couple years with the Rough Riders, right here in Frisco, before he retired.”

  “Well, I’ll be. That man could be coachin’ anywhere. Must have a good heart if he’s volunteerin’ his time with these little boys.”

  Peggy reached over to squeeze Ryann’s knee, and Ryann relented. With a sigh, she followed her mother’s gaze. She watched while Leslie clapped his hands as he shouted out a praise for his boys in the outfield. Try as she might, Ryann couldn’t block out the gossip from her own peanut gallery. She had to admit, she quite liked it.

  RYANN PUSHED ASIDE the remains of her lunch as she sat in the old, vacant employee lounge above the grocery store. Without giving it too much thought, she unlocked the screen of her phone and maneuvered her way to the photo app. She scrolled until she found the footage of Saturday’s game and then proceeded to watch the clips of Cohan’s two hits at bat. On his first attempt, he’d made it all the way to first base. On his second, his grounder was caught and he was thrown out by the kid who stood on the pitcher’s mound behind the pitching machine. Even still, Ryann liked to watch him in action.

  She worried her lip as she thought of Leslie and the offer he’d extended her nearly a week prior. He followed up with the email he’d promised, outlining the small fee he charged for the extra lessons and the time slot available on Friday evenings. Having come to the conclusion that he might be right—that Cohan could really excel on offense with a little extra coaching—Ryann made up her mind. It was the right thing to do, to take him up on his offer.

  As she opened up her text messages, she held her breath. She knew what she’d find upon opening their thread. Late Saturday afternoon, Leslie had sent her a message she hadn’t deleted. Neither had she responded. However, she’d read it enough times she almost had the thing memorized.

  LM: Ryann, I hope you don’t mind my messaging you outside of the group text.

  LM: I wanted to apologize if I was too forward after practice on Thursday. I didn’t mean any harm. I understand timing isn’t exactly ideal. Still, I hope you know my offer to coach Cohan on an individual basis still stands. I’ll see you Monday.

  Not five minutes after she received the text, she was notified of his email. Now, as she began to type out her message, she felt her curiosity as it began to rise up inside of her. It was a sensation that tickled the back of her neck and was growing quite familiar whenever Leslie found his way into her thoughts. She wondered what his story was—his real story. Based on the gossip she’d heard, most recently from her own father, he’d become an intriguing mystery she wanted to understand. Her mother had been right. With his background, little league seemed a little out of his league.

  Just after Ryann had sent her text message through, her phone rang. Her spine straightened when she saw who was calling, and her head tilted to the side in wonder. It was strange how often these two men collided with each other right before her eyes—as if the universe was trying to tell her something. Except, what it might mean, she wasn’t sure. They didn’t even know one another.

  Shaking off her bewilderment, she slid her thumb across the screen to pick-up the call. “Hello?” she answered.

  “Hey, it’s me. You got a minute?”

  Brady had greeted her through the telephone with the same phrase for years. Even though Ryann no longer loved him like she once did, the familiarity of his speech sometimes caused a phantom pain of loss to resonate through
her chest. She inhaled deeply and blew out a quiet sigh as she willed the hollow feeling to go away.

  “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “Just wanted to let you know I took Friday off. I should be up there in time to pick Cohan up from school. Cheryl-Ann and I will take him for the weekend. We got a couple rooms lined up at an Airbnb nearby.”

  “Oh. Uh, okay.” Ryann knitted her eyebrows together, caught off guard by his answer. For a moment, his proposal shook up her weekend plans, and it took her a second to rearrange them in her head. “Actually, the school—they’re pretty strict about the pick-up line. They’ve never met you, so it might be easier for you to meet us at the house. Besides, Cohan will need to grab his things anyway.”

  “Sure. Yeah, that’s fine.”

  Before he’d even finished speaking, Ryann’s phone vibrated against her cheek, and she sealed her eyes closed. Knowing what the alert meant, she forced herself to announce, “Also, there’s something else. I just signed Cohan up for extra batting lessons on Fridays at five. It’ll be his first lesson this week. Do you mind taking him? I mean, I’m sure he’d love it if you did.”

  “Really? That’s great. Of course. Of course, we’ll take him.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I guess I’ll see you in a couple days, then.”

  “Yeah. See you Friday.”

  He disconnected without further prompting, and Ryann heaved a sigh as she pulled her phone away from her ear. Admittedly, while she was glad for Cohan’s sake that Brady planned on keeping his promise, she couldn’t deny she was selfishly disappointed for herself. There was something about Cohan’s nights spent away from home that still made Ryann uneasy. It didn’t matter where he was or who he was with, Cohan being more than a few steps away in the dark of night had always left Ryann anxious.

  Even more, her Friday night plans—as pathetic as they might have been—had just gotten snatched away from her. Worrying her lip once more, she opened up her thread of texts with Leslie in search of his response.

  RC: Leslie, thank you for sending along the information about your Friday sessions. Sorry it’s taken me so long to decide. I would like to take you up on your offer if the 5pm slot is still available.

  LM: Hi, Ryann. Good to hear from you. That time is still open. It’s all Cohan’s.

  RC: Wonderful. He’ll be there.

  IT FELT STRANGE, pulling into the parking lot on game day without her little player. Ryann wasn’t a fan, but she endeavored to be a woman about it. After she’d found a parking spot, she killed the engine and lowered the visor above her to give her appearance one more quick glance. The temperatures had started to drop into the eighties as autumn drew near, and Ryann had opted to let her hair down. Her locks, while not exactly wavy, weren’t exactly straight, which gave her enough volume to keep her satisfied. She swept her fingers through her thick strands and tossed it down her back before she checked her face. She hadn’t done much—she usually didn’t—but she had taken the time to draw on a little eyeliner and coat her lashes in a layer of mascara.

  “Stop that fretting,” Peggy demanded from the backseat. “You’re effortlessly gorgeous, and I won’t stand for it. Cheryl-Ann has nothin’ on you. Now you get your pretty little behind out of this car so we can go find our boy.”

  “Yeah,” grunted Scott from the passenger seat. “What she said.”

  Ryann fought a smile as she looked between her parents. Then, folding up the visor, she offered them both a nod. “Okay, let’s go.”

  As she stepped out of her vehicle, she looped the straps of her purse over her shoulder and smoothed her hand down the front of her loose fitting, spaghetti strapped, white tank top. She’d matched it with her holey, fitted, blue jeans and her favorite pair of sandals. Ryann had managed to convince herself that she’d put a tad more effort into her appearance because she had the extra time—and it was the excuse she intended on sticking to. Though, as they made their way toward the field, she felt a twinge of bitterness twist in her stomach when she caught sight of Cheryl-Ann.

  The thin, petite woman had her long, blonde hair piled on top of her head in a perfectly over-done messy bun. The printed romper she wore had a dramatic V cut in the back, exposing her tan and her flawless bare skin. Her outfit was made complete with her four-inch wedge sandals—which still didn’t give her the height to stand as tall as Ryann. Coincidentally, this only made Ryann feel even more self-conscious.

  At five ten, Brady wasn’t a tall man. Ryann had never felt small next to him. It didn’t bother her when they were together, as he didn’t complain about feeling short. It wasn’t until Ryann met Cheryl-Ann, who stood just shy of five-two, that she felt somehow less feminine in comparison. She knew it was ridiculous to even think such a thing, but that afternoon hadn’t been the first time it flitted across her mind. Except, the instant Cohan spotted and called out to her, all of those thoughts melted away.

  Ryann stopped where she stood and knelt down as Cohan came charging toward her. She giggled when he collided into her and wrapped her in an embrace.

  “Hey, handsome.”

  “Mommy, Coach Moore taught me stuff yesterday-And the place we went to was so cool-And I got to be in the batting cage like the grown-ups-And I listened like you told me-And then dad and Cheryl-Ann and me had pizza for dinner-And then this morning, Cheryl-Ann tried to make toast for breakfast, but she burnt it and the fire alarm went off-But the firemen didn’t have to come-And then daddy made pancakes instead-And he said we could go to a movie after the game-Do you want to come?”

  Smiling up at her little man, she playfully ran a finger along his nose before she replied, “That’s so nice of you to invite me, buddy. Thank you for being a good listener with Coach Moore. I’m glad you’re having a good time with your dad. I think mommy’s going to go home after the game, though. Your dad came to spend time with you. But we can hang out tomorrow. Yeah?”

  He sighed dramatically and hung his head as he let his shoulders drop. “I like it better with you and daddy,” he mumbled unabashedly.

  “Baby, we’ve talked about this.”

  “I’m just being honest,” Cohan defended with a shrug.

  “I know,” Ryann cooed as she absentmindedly straightened his shirt. She then tucked it in the way she preferred before she placed her palm against his chest and smiled at him encouragingly. “I appreciate your honesty. But you have to remember it’s your dad’s weekend, okay? He’s here just for you.”

  “’Kay.”

  “Are you going to show me your new moves out there today?”

  Cohan’s eyes lit up as he nodded. “Yeah!” he replied.

  “Awesome. I can’t wait. Better go get your things from your dad and join the rest of your team, okay? And after the game, don’t leave before you come give me a kiss.”

  “’Kay,” he promised. He turned to wave at Peggy and Scott, who waved and wished him well in return, then hurried back to his father.

  Ryann rose to full height and adjusted her purse over her shoulder as she watched Brady’s interaction with Cohan. It was brief, but it ended with a fist bump that put a grin on Cohan’s face. It wasn’t until Brady looped the strap of the sturdy backpack over Cohan’s shoulder that Ryann noticed the gift.

  There was a small pang of bitterness that pinched her heart just looking at the possession. Cohan needed it for his gear, and she knew he did, but it irked her that she hadn’t been able to provide it for him herself; then, recognizing the selfishness of that thought, she grew irritated that Brady hadn’t been around for the first game so Cohan could have had it sooner. It was pointless to dwell on the poisonous effects of their divorce, but it snuck up on her sometimes. In the end, Ryann couldn’t deny she was glad her little boy would play for both of his parents that day.

  As they all made their way to the bleachers to find their seats, Brady and Ryann exchanged no more than a cordial smile. Ryann had learned early on that her interactions with her ex were handled best over the phone or through emails and texts. So long a
s Cheryl-Ann was by his side, she didn’t much care for his conversation. Even more, she avoided it as much as possible. She wasn’t quite sure what that said about her, but she didn’t much care. She had her limits, and she allowed herself to stay within the boundaries she’d carefully crafted around herself.

  Needless to say, they didn’t sit together. Instead, Ryann watched as Cheryl-Ann picked their spots. She barely contained her scoff when the woman opted for the vacant space directly in front of Connie Wheeler. Connie, clearly intrigued by the new face worthy of her attention, was quick to introduce herself. Ryann was so distracted by the exchange, she didn’t hear Greta and Steven as they called out to her. It wasn’t until Peggy smoothed a hand down Ryann’s arm that her attention was drawn away from her ex and the other woman.

  “Come on, dear. Put them out of your mind,” she murmured as she guided Ryann to their seats.

  For the next ninety minutes, with Brady and Cheryl-Ann at her back, and Cohan and Leslie in her sights, she did just as her mother had instructed. It wasn’t until after the game, after Cohan kissed her goodbye and left with his father, that Ryann felt alone. For reasons which she could only ascribe to the awakened woman inside of her, fighting against her own resistance, the thought of spending the night at home with her parents felt pathetic; and for the first time, watching Brady with Cheryl-Ann filled her with a longing so dense, she could hardly catch her breath. Only, it wasn’t because she wanted Brady. After months of grief and transition, she felt ready to admit she wanted more.

  More than the hope of her dreams.

  More than the memory of the family she’d once had.

  More than buttercream roses and little league baseball.

  She wanted to be more than a mother. More than a daughter.

  She wanted to be a woman.

  She wanted to be Ryann—and she wanted to be seen.

  “Ryann, honey, you comin’?” asked Scott with a frown.