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shouted as he took the T-shirt Cory handed him. “Thanks!”
Karen still didn’t look impressed. Cory had casually asked her how Clay was doing and received a very short and cutting “Fine” in reply. He hadn’t asked her any more questions.
“Okay, Carlos, let’s see that famous thumbs-up for the camera,” Helene called.
Carlos eagerly complied, embracing his role as a celebrity for a few extra moments. Cory followed suit, smiling shamelessly for the cameras.
Emma deliberately arrived late. As she walked onto the field and saw the commotion by the pitcher’s mound, she let her son carry his bag and follow her. The bag was almost as big as he was. She hadn’t told Tyler the news she’d learned this morning from Karen. The news about Cory being at practice today. Hopefully she could keep it from him just a little while longer.
You mean hopefully you can keep Cory away from Tyler just a little while longer.
She slowed down by the dugout as she saw half a dozen photographers taking shots of Cory giving Carlos hats and jerseys and other bribes. He looked different from the guy who’d left ten years ago. Not just older but bigger, fuller. Stronger was the word that came to mind, but nothing about the man standing out there represented strength to Emma. Not anymore.
A man scrambling to keep his squadron alive, that represented strength. Scrambling to buy drinks for everybody in the bar was stupidity.
Tyler kept trudging along with the duffel bag over his arm. Emma signaled to Karen and mouthed the words Come here!
She couldn’t go out on the field. Not just yet.
Karen walked up beside her with a serious look on her face. “You ready?”
“Does he know yet—”
“I don’t think so.”
Emma sighed.
“Like I told you, things are going to be fine,” Karen said. “You’ll get through this. Don’t worry about a thing.”
Karen was the sister Emma had never had. She was the picture of strength, a woman who had gone through so much and yet remained optimistic and giving.
Emma glanced back out to the crowd and noticed a glamorous African-American woman talking to the cameras, making some official statement. A publicist for the Grizzlies, or someone official from the league? As soon as the lady was finished, Carlos started talking Cory’s ear off once again.
“I can’t believe you’re our coach. We need major help. You’ll see. We’re not even close to as good as the Roughnecks. They can hit the ball so far. Like as far as that building over there. Which is where you get the best ice cream ever.”
Karen couldn’t help smiling as she glanced over at Emma.
“He just adores Cory,” Emma said.
“I know,” Karen replied. “Scary, huh?”
Several other parents were beginning to walk up around Cory now. Emma knew it was almost time.
You can do this. You have nothing to worry about, not a thing.
Just as she was drumming up the confidence, still feeling like the shy high school girl that the handsome and popular Cory Brand decided to ask out, Emma glanced over to see Suzanne Fairchild standing by the side of the field, refluffing her hair.
You’ve gotta be kidding me.
Emma looked back onto the field and noticed the striking businesswoman next to Cory commanding everybody’s attention. Perhaps she’d get some competition now in the form of a blonde bombshell about five years past her prime. Not that Suzanne knew that, since every man around her still managed to look her over. Perhaps it was because of her tight clothes or the fact that she had enhanced that already shapely figure of hers. Everybody knew it, and Suzanne didn’t seem to mind that they knew it. It was impossible not to notice.
“Oh, please. Suzanne’s here?”
“In heels,” Karen added.
“Haven’t seen her all season.”
This was pitiful. Emma standing there afraid to go onto the field, afraid to go face the kids she helped coach, afraid to face a man who was the coward and ran away.
Enough, Emma.
She had a job
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