I follow his gaze, my breath stalling, to see Lincoln Landry at the fence directly below us. Children scramble from their seats, thrusting hats and pictures and Sharpies in his direction. He takes it in stride, just like Barrett does in a crowd, and plays it off like he does it every day. Maybe he does.
“Mom! Please!”
“Yes, go on. I’ll watch you from here.”
He climbs over Lola and races to the fence, a spring in his little step that’s impossible to miss.
“Look at him,” Lola sighs.
“I know. I love watching him have so much joy. I wish I knew more about baseball, but it’ll be the same way with cars and things that blow up some day. I hate it that his father was such an incredible asshole.”
Lo gives me a look. “I was talking about Lincoln.”
“Of course you were.”
Huxley makes his way to the front of the line, one of the last kids left standing. Lincoln takes his glove, running a hand through his hair. He looks straight up in the stands, at me, his eyes full of mischief.
The smirk that spreads across his face is more playful and less sexy than Barrett’s, but still a panty-dropper. He tosses me a wink before motioning for me to come down too.
“Oh my God he wants you,” Lola nearly shrieks. “Go. Get your ass down there, Ali!”
I can’t respond because you can’t do that without air. I don’t move, either, because I’m partially frozen in my seat.
Lincoln motions again and Huxley turns around, his face nearly swallowed by his smile. “Mom! Come here!”
Rising slowly, which garners another chuckle from Lincoln, I make my way to the fence. There’s still no sign of Barrett, but I know he’s close. I can feel it. His energy teases me from the shadows.
“Hey, there!” Lincoln says, his voice dripping with a little extra gusto. “I have Hux here and no Sharpie.”
“Oh, no!” I say, feeling like I just struck the biggest mom-fail of all time.
“Good thing I’m always prepared,” Linc grins.
“He has one, Mom! In the dugout!”
Lincoln smirks.
I give him my best ‘I’m sure you do’ look.
He laughs.
I roll my eyes, but can’t help but laugh as well. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“Well, my reputation as a real-life Superman does precede me. Now see that gate right down there? Go through that and meet me in the dugout.”
“Can we do that?” I ask, looking for security.
“Yeah, this is a charity game. They don’t care. Just don’t charge the pitcher’s mound or anything.”
“I’ll try to restrain myself,” I mutter.
Hux grabs my arm, jerking it up and down. “Let’s go!”
Lincoln watches with amusement as Huxley drags me down the stands and to the gate, jabbering endlessly the entire time. I pretend to follow along with his all-out fanboy antics, but I try to play it cool. To pretend like Barrett isn’t waiting for me.
My heart strikes against my ribs, pounding out of control. I hear Hux’s voice, but not the words, over the roar of blood in my ears.
Whether I want to be or not, I’m excited to see him again. Even if it’s in a dugout full of baseball players and a star-struck little boy, I can’t deny it.