“Hey, why so serious? We’re all friends here, aren’t we? I’m good buddies with Brock and his family.” He leaned closer and whispered so Ben couldn’t hear. “Besides, I like flirting with you.”
Goodness. When he got up close and so personal, it was all she could do not to melt into a pool of lust. He smelled like aftershave, grass, and the desert sun, and the heat emanating off his big, muscular body drew her like a moth to a lantern.
“Nothing can happen here,” she said, gritting her teeth. “I’m not available. If we can stay friends, I’ll be happy—for Ben’s sake.”
“Sure. No pressure.” He eased away from her and picked up his sports bag. “Next stop, batting cage.”
Ryan watched Jamie out of the corner of his eye as he played catch with Ben. After Drew’s meltdown in the bullpen, she seemed reluctant to let him participate. Instead, she let Drew stare at the baseball and turn it around and around.
He did that during the entire time Ben was in the batting cage, and now, he was at it again, sitting on the sidelines while Ryan and Ben tossed the baseball at each other.
Not that it was any of his business, but this repetitive behavior was something his mother had never allowed. She had drilled it into him from a very young age that he was not to act in a way that singled him out for teasing or bullying. He had to try new foods, go to new places, change where he sat in the car, switch seats at the family table, and participate in any activity his cousins did. No excuses, and no sitting on the sidelines.
Ryan tossed the ball to Ben a little further and to the left.
The boy ran back backwards, jumped up, and caught it. Smiling broadly, Ben threw the ball back high and wide.
Ryan easily loped over and snagged it, then threw a grounder that hopped twice.
Ben missed the catch and the ball rolled to a stop near Jamie and Drew.
“You think Drew wants to play catch, too?” Ryan suggested to Ben when he came back with the ball.
“He can’t catch anything.” Ben threw the ball at Ryan.
“Why not? Have you shown him how?” Ryan turned around and lobbed the ball up in the air like a pop fly.
Ben circled underneath it, squinting in the sun, raised his hand, like he was calling the ball, and caught it onehanded.
“Good job,” Ryan said. “Think your brother wants to play?”
“No.” Ben held onto the ball and looked at his mother and brother.
Ryan was sure Jamie could hear him, but she stared straight at her phone.
“He did a great job with the pitching. I bet he can throw and catch just as well.” Ryan gestured with his glove. “Why don’t you ask him?”
“You don’t get it.” Ben ran toward Ryan and lowered his voice. “He’s autistic. He can’t play with other people.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Ryan said. “I think he needs a challenge. Go ask him.”
“My mom won’t like it if he has another meltdown,” Ben explained. “Then he’ll ruin our day.”
“He had a meltdown already, and he didn’t ruin anything,” Ryan said. “I’ll ask your mom if it’s okay. He already missed batting practice.”
“He would have struck out. He hates to bat.”
Ryan walked over to the bench where Jamie and Drew sat. “Hey buddy, give me that.”
Without asking, he took the ball from Drew. Jamie’s eyes popped wide and she inhaled a sharp breath, ready to ream him.
He put his finger on his lips, urging her to be quiet, and flipped the ball up and down in his hand,
Drew didn’t like that he’d taken the ball, but neither did he try to get it back. He looked past Ryan, as if he no longer cared about the ball.
“Wanna play?” Ryan held the ball in front of Drew.
No response.
“You see your brother? He’s got a big old mitt and when I throw the ball, he catches it.” Ryan threw the baseball at Ben who snatched it from the air. “You want your ball, you’re going to have to play catch.”
“No.” Drew made duck lips and scowled. “No play.”
“You can speak in complete sentences, too,” Ryan said. “I don’t want to play. Say it.”
“Mr. Hudson,” Jamie said, standing and getting in his face. “You know nothing about what Drew is going through.”
“Maybe not, but he should try new things, not sit and stare at a ball all day long because it’s convenient.”
“How dare you?” Jamie’s face flushed bright red, and this time, it wasn’t from blushing. “You have no idea what goes on with him and how much stress it is to make sure we get through the day without him falling apart.”
“Is that truly the worst thing that could happen?” Ryan refused to back down. “Nothing ventured. Nothing gained.”
“Don’t tell me how to mother my son. You spend half a day with us, and you think you know best.” Jamie’s voice rose to a screech. “You try living with this twenty-four seven and then maybe I’ll listen.”
“Is that a challenge?” Ryan reached out and tipped her chin so she had to look at him. “Because if it is, I’ll take it. Your son has a natural talent, and I’d hate to see him spend his life staring at a ball when he could be throwing and catching. The same goes for life in general. You can stare at the lines on your palm, or you can go out and do something with those hands.”
“What do you want?” She narrowed her eyes, but her lips trembled even as she snarled.
He wanted to take care of her, but that would be way too forward, and he hadn’t yet had time to process this strange need which had just now crossed his mind.
“I want Drew to get a shot at living a normal life.”
She shook her head slowly. “Then you don’t understand. Autism can’t be cured.”
“No, but it can be adapted to.” He dropped his hand and shrugged. “I’m no expert, as you say, but I think the boy should be stretched.”
“Even to the breaking point? No way.” She jutted her lower lip, challenging him.
“The meltdowns tell us he’s reached the breaking point, but if we don’t push him almost there, we’ll never know what he can do. Think of it as an IRS audit. If you never get audited, it means you’re not pushing the limits and you’re leaving money on the table.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not funny.”
“No, I’m not. I’m serious.” His voice turned husky as he lowered his gaze to her kissable lips.
She seemed to move toward him, tentatively, then thought the better of it, and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Okay, then, let’s see if you can get him to play catch.”
“If I can, do I get to live twenty-four seven with you?”
“You’re unreal.” This time, a tiny smile crossed her lips. “Okay, you’re on. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Great, do I move in with you or do you shack up with me?”
She looked at her two boys, one sullenly at her side and the other running around on the grass. “Stop your yammering and play ball.”
CHAPTER FIVE
There was no way in the universe Ryan would be able to get Drew to play catch. No absolute way. Typical swaggering man. Thought he could step into an unknown situation and be the hero.
Jamie gave Drew a little push. “Go to your brother and stand next to him.”
Drew wandered the opposite direction. He squatted on the grass at the side of the third baseline and picked at the chalk lines of the coach’s box.
So much for that idea.
She quirked an eyebrow at Ryan and thought, I told you.
Ryan gave her an OK sign and a smirk, then walked toward the bullpen. “Be right back.”
He walked past Drew, gave him a “Hey, bud,” greeting, and went into the bullpen.
Jamie watched Ben throw the ball up in the air and catch it himself, while Drew paid absolutely no attention to his brother.
She blew out a hot breath and shook her head at the futility of it all. Drew only played by himself, no
t with others. She didn’t see how Ryan would coax Drew to actually interact with someone else while playing.
A part of Jamie wanted to be proven wrong, but even worse, she hated the familiar gnawing in her stomach at trying anything new and risking a setback.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained simply was not true when dealing with autistic children where weeks or months of improved behaviors could go away in an instant.
Ryan returned with a catcher’s chest protector and the target taped on it. He dangled it in front of Drew and then handed him the baseball. “Bet you can’t hit this.”
Drew dropped the ball and went back to rubbing his fingers in the chalk.
Ben ran over and picked up the ball. “Drew, look at me.”
He threw it at the chest protector, but Drew never turned around.
Ryan picked up the ball and put the chest protector on. He squatted in front of Drew and let the ball roll onto the chalked line right where Drew was picking the chalk off a blade of grass.
Drew acted as if the ball didn’t exist.
“Now look what you did,” Jamie said. “He doesn’t even care about the baseball anymore. It’s two steps forward, one step backward, and sometimes, it could be three steps backward.”
Ryan ignored her, not even turning toward her voice. Instead, he picked up the ball and tossed it at himself, hitting the target on his chest protector.
No response from Drew.
Jamie looked at Ben and shook her head, sorry that Ben’s one-on-one time with Ryan had ended. She picked up a mitt and a ball and threw the ball at Ben, who caught it easily.
Ben threw it back and she had to stretch to get it. She couldn’t remember the last time she played catch.
Back and forth, mother and son tossed the ball. Every so often, Jamie would glance at Ryan, who was still trying to get Drew’s attention.
He might as well give up. Jamie could have saved him some time, but the bullheaded man, no matter how well-meaning, thought he knew better.
He acted as if Jamie hadn’t spent countless hours trying to get Drew to play games with her and Ben. The most they could get was him playing alongside another child, but still in his own world.
The only reason she allowed him to sit and play with the baseball was because he was interested in it, and now that Ryan had taken it from him, he’d withdrawn from it.
“Mom, throw it up high,” Ben said, waving his hand.
As usual, her attention had been diverted from Ben. Jamie reared her arm back and threw the ball high.
Ben raced to catch it, but Jamie turned to watch Drew.
“You didn’t see me make a diving catch,” Ben complained.
“Sorry, let’s try it again.” She put the glove up to catch the ball, but Drew made distress sounds.
Instead of picking at the grass, he was shaking his head and flapping his hands, on the verge of another meltdown.
Bam. The ball hit Jamie on the side of her head. The pain surprised her, and it took a moment for her to realize she’d crumpled down onto the grass.
“Mom, I’m sorry.” Ben ran toward her, as another set of heavier footsteps converged.
“Jamie, are you all right?” Ryan reached her first and lifted her from the ground.
She held onto her ringing head but nodded. “I’m fine. I didn’t pass out. It just hurts.”
“Where did he hit you?”
“Right above my ear. I’m okay.” Her gaze traveled back to Drew. He picked up the ball Ryan had dropped and hovered near them about four feet away, but he didn’t look at her.
“Mom, are you okay?” Ben hugged her, giving her the affection she so sorely needed.
“I’m fine.” She hugged him back tightly, something she could never do with Drew. She didn’t know what she’d do without Ben.
“You weren’t looking,” Ben scolded. “I didn’t throw it that hard.”
“You didn’t.” She let herself relax in the warm hug. Someday, Ben would be too old to hug her or hold her hand, and she would sorely miss the tiny bit of human contact she got from him.
Soon enough, he squirmed away from her. “Ryan, can I bat the ball and you catch it?”
“Sure, bud,” Ryan said, grinning. “Let’s set up at home plate. Go grab a bat.”
While Ben went to grab a bat, Ryan put his arm around Jamie and tugged her up against his chest protector. “Sure you’re okay?”
Smiling, she leaned into his embrace and rested her head on his broad shoulders. “I’m fine, but I’m milking this for all I can get.”
“Milk away.” His voice rasped low and husky close to her ear, and she shuddered at the innuendo as a thrill ran down her spine and her breasts tingled with awareness.
How desperate she was to get aroused by a kind gesture. Pathetic.
But somehow, she couldn’t get herself to push away, and instead, she circled his waist with her arms and waited for Ben or Drew to interrupt them.
It would be nice, wouldn’t it, to have a man at her side. Someone to share her burdens with. Someone to laugh together with in the good times and cry with in the bad. Someone to walk by her side and ease the constant ache of loneliness.
“Mom,” Ben called. “I got the bat.”
Jamie let out a yearning sigh, reluctant to let go, but knowing there was no future.
If Andrew, her ex-husband, had walked out on them, why would any other unrelated man subject himself to the real pain and struggle of living in the hell of autism?
CHAPTER SIX
Two days later, Jamie caught hell from Andrew.
She’d just dropped Ben and Drew off at school and was getting out the vacuum cleaner when she heard the doorbell.
“What the hell were you doing flirting with that baseball player?” Her ex-husband stepped through the doorway as if he still lived with them.
“Andrew.” She stepped back when she should have been slamming the door. “You can’t just drop in here.”
“My sons live here, might I remind you, and I’m the one paying for all your expenses.” He surveyed the living room and the mess as if he were a child protective services investigator. “About time you vacuumed—spending the weekend out gallivanting around town with that ballplayer.”
The Hug, capitalized because she couldn’t remember the last time a grown man had hugged her, had been shared on Ryan’s social media page, and while her mother had noticed and asked her about it, Jamie should have known word would get around to Andrew. He monitored everything she did and questioned each of her receipts, always suspicious that she was siphoning off money from the children to herself.
As if she had any person, place, hobby, or thing to spend money on.
Bile spurted up Jamie’s throat at how Andrew would invade her space without warning. But he had a point; he paid alimony and child support and footed Drew’s medical and therapy bills.
“Ben won a day with a major leaguer.” She willed her voice to remain calm. “It was a big deal for him, and all his classmates are envious. After meeting Ryan, he’s been invited to several playdates.”
“Good for Ben.” Andrew nodded proudly. “I ought to take him to a few baseball games once tax season’s over.”
If it wasn’t tax season, it was corporate end of the fiscal year accounting, or a rash of wills and trusts. Jamie and Ben had long ago quit believing Andrew’s empty promises.
“So, thought I’d let you know Drew’s a pretty good pitcher.”
At the mention of Drew’s name, Andrew’s smile glazed over. “Drew’s costing me an arm and a leg.”
Drew needed all sorts of therapy, from speech to occupational, to behavioral analysis to physical training, as well as constant evaluation of his medical and emotional condition. All expensive, and few covered by social services.
Andrew expected a pat on the back for his generosity, so Jamie mumbled, “It’s doing him a lot of good. He strung together a few words yesterday.”
“Humpf. What was it, ten thousand dollars per word?” An
drew sneered. “If you did a better job, you could have taught him yourself. I’m glad Ben got to go out, but couldn’t you have left Drew with your mother? It’s not like he was aware of anything.”
“I told you he pitched the ball.” Jamie swallowed down hot bile. If Andrew had had his way, he would have taken custody of Ben and left Drew with her. In fact, every so often, his lawyer would put in a motion that she wasn’t doing enough for Ben, and how he would be the better parent.
Fortunately, his accounting business kept him so busy the judges hadn’t agreed.
“I’ve got an idea.” He scratched his beard which had started to salt and pepper. “Why don’t I take custody of Ben this summer and have him go to baseball camp? There’s no reason for him to be held back because all your attention is on Drew.”
“Ben isn’t being held back,” Jamie said as her stomach twisted with guilt. “He’s doing well in school, has many friends, and gets invited to birthday parties.”
“Except he never gets to have a party,” Andrew said, lowering his brows. “After third grade, he won’t be invited anymore. Right now, they’re still at the stage where they automatically invite everyone in the class.”
“You could always have a party for him. It doesn’t mean he has to live with you.” Jamie huffed and picked up the vacuum cleaner nozzle. “I really need to get this place cleaned before Drew gets out of school.”
“Is that school really working?” Instead of taking the hint, Andrew waddled to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He grabbed himself a can of soda.
“Sending him to school is just an expensive way for you to have a few hours off.”
“Drew needs the services they provide and experts teaching and training him.” Jamie felt like shoving the vacuum nozzle in Andrew’s mouth and sucking out his nonexistent heart. “If you were around more, you’d see improvements. He actually threw a pitch and hit the target. He listened to Mr. Hudson explain the different spins, and he held his fingers in the correct place.”
Andrew slammed the half-full can of soda on the counter, spilling a splash of fizz. “Did you sleep with this Mr. Hudson?”
Playing for the Save (Men of Spring Baseball Book 3) Page 3
