“What are you making?”

“Tacos.”

“Gross.”

I stopped walking. “What did you just say?”

He grinned. “I’m playing.”

“I thought I was about to have to drop you off on the side of the road and make you find your own way home, kiddo.”

That made my serious Josh laugh. “You—uh-oh.” He stopped in place and immediately dropped his bag on the ground, his hands going to the rim of it to spread the material wide.

I knew that movement. “What did you forget?”

Josh rummaged through it for a couple of seconds longer. “My glove.”

He knew the same thing I did. I had just bought him that glove a couple of months ago. I’d made him swear on his life he wouldn’t lose it; it was that expensive.

“I’ll be right back!” he shouted, already taking a step away as he gestured toward the bag that was beginning to topple over. “Watch it for me!”

I was going to kill him if he lost it. Slowly. Twice.

Feeling my eyelid start to twitch, I snagged his bag before it fell over and hefted it over my shoulder. What did I do? I just stood there, looking around at the people on the team who hadn’t left yet. In one of the bigger groups of parents and kids, I could see Trip’s blond head. I hadn’t gotten a chance to tell him hi, but I figured it was all right since it was the first day of practice and everyone probably wanted to talk to him. It wasn’t like I had anything to ask yet or be annoying for.

As I continued glancing around, waiting for Josh, I spotted Dallas, his brother, the bitchy mom named Christy, and her son walking almost side by side toward the parking lot, which was where I was standing. It seemed like the woman was the one talking while Dallas just nodded along, and the other two seemed off in their own world. For a brief moment, I thought about tying my shoelace that didn’t need a retie or pretending I was on a phone call. Then I realized how cowardly that made me feel. All because Dallas hadn’t been Mr. Friendly at the bar? I had to face it. I was going to be around these people for a while. I wasn’t scared of them, and I wasn’t going to be shy and shit.

If he didn’t like me for whatever reason in the world he might have made up for not being my fan, then too damn bad. My grandma had told me once you couldn’t make someone love you or even like you, but you could sure as hell make someone put up with you.

So, the second they were close enough to me, deep in a conversation that didn’t require a whole bunch of mouth movement, I let out a breath, reminded myself that two of these people were Ginny’s family, one was a child and the other… well, I wasn’t worried about her, and I said, “Hi, guys.”

The greeting I got in return didn’t amuse me.

One glare from the mom for a reason I couldn’t even begin to figure out.

One weak smile from the little boy on Josh’s team.

And two grumbles. Literally. One that sounded like “Mmm,” and the other didn’t really sound like anything at all.

Had Mac mysteriously broken out of the house, taken a shit on Dallas and Jackson’s front step, and lit it on fire without me knowing? Had I done something wrong or rude to the mom? I didn’t know. I really didn’t know, but suddenly I felt a little betrayed. A part of growing up was accepting that you could be nice to others but shouldn’t expect that kindness to be returned. Being nice shouldn’t require a payment.

But as the group of four walked by, honest to God making me grateful that no one had seen that encounter, it aggravated me. More than a little.

A lot.

If I had done something, I could understand and accept responsibility for my actions. At least I wanted to believe that. But I hadn’t. I really hadn’t done anything to either one of them.

And most importantly, Josh had been picked to be on the team. So….

“Don’t worry, I found it,” came Josh’s voice from my left, tearing my thoughts away from the men who lived across the street from us.

I slanted one of the few people in this world who wouldn’t dishonor me a look. “Worried? You should have been the one worried you weren’t going to make it to turn eleven if you hadn’t found it.”

* * *

About an hour and a half later, the three of us were driving down our street when Josh piped up, “The old lady is waving.”

“What old lady?” I asked before I could stop myself from calling her that. Damn it.

“The really old one. With the cotton hair.”

There were two things wrong with his sentence, but I only focused on one: I couldn’t tell him to stop calling her old when I’d just done it, but hopefully I would remember next time. “Is she still waving?”

Pulling the car into the driveway and parking it, he unbuckled his seat belt and turned to look over the backseat of the SUV. “Yeah. Maybe she wants something.”

There was no way in hell her hair needed cutting so soon, and it was almost ten o’clock at night. What the hell was she doing awake? The boys shouldn’t even be up at this point either, but that was just part of the beast called Select Baseball. The three of us all got out of the car, tired and ready to go to sleep after we’d eaten at my parents’ house, and a huge part of me hoped that, as I got out of the car, Miss Pearl didn’t actually need anything. I’d barely slammed the door shut when I heard, just barely, a near whisper this far away, “Miss Lopez!”

We were back to Miss Lopez.