Home Run (The Boys of Summer 2) - Page 39

I close my eyes and hang my head. Of course she did. Why, of all times, does she suddenly take an interest in baseball?

“Ainsley?”

“I’m here, Mom.”

“He seems to have a temper.”

“Let’s not judge, okay? We don’t know what happened or what was said. When I talk to him, I’ll ask him. So until then, let’s forget what you heard today.”

Mom lets out a rattling breath, making my insides tighten. I don’t care that her doctors think she’ll get better. Her last scan was not positive, and I think she’s getting worse.

“What time will you be home?” she asks, changing the subject. I have no doubt she’ll bring it up again, but hopefully I will have spoken to Cooper by that time.

“I’m about to leave now. What would you like for dinner?”

“I think I’d like to go out tonight.”

That idea brings a smile to my face. “That’s great. I’ll be home in about a half hour.”

We say our goodbyes and hang up. I’m tempted to call Cooper, but figure that he’ll call when he’s ready. I can be patient while he works out whatever is bothering him. I take one last look at my flowers, wishing I could bring them home, but I don’t want my mom asking any more questions than she already has, and honestly, I want to leave my relationship with Cooper between us. Keeping my lives separate will allow me to decompress when I need to…from both of them.

I’m lucky and make it home in thirty minutes. When I walk in, my mom is dressed and sitting in a chair in our living room.

“You look nice,” I tell her as I kiss her on the cheek. She’s dressed in a blue flowered dress with matching scarf. The color gives her ashen skin some vibrancy. “Give me five minutes to change.”

I don’t give her a chance to say anything before I disappear down the hall and into my room. I change quickly and readjust my ponytail before I’m back in the living room. “Where do you want to go?”

“I was thinking I want pie for dinner.”

I stifle a laugh and nod. “Sounds good, even though I should tell you no. Don’t you remember me asking for dessert for dinner when I was younger?”

“Yes,” she says, taking my arm so she can stand. “But I’m your mother and you have to follow my rules.” She winks, making me wish I could capture this moment on film. These days are few and far between, and I need more of them.

Once I have her situated in her car, I take the long way to the restaurant that serves her favorite peach pie. I’d love to take her for a ride in my Wrangler, but I don’t think she’s strong enough to climb in, and I can’t lift her.

“Oh, it looks like they’re busy,” she says as I pull in. Indeed, there’s a tour bus in the parking lot, which means most of the seats will be filled. The diner has been here for years, since back when my grandparents were teenagers. They used to hang out here after school, drinking fountain sodas and listening to their music. My mom came here as a child, and both she and my grandparents brought me here. The diner has been owned by the same family for generations and makes the best dessert around.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

She shakes her head. “We can wait for a table if we have to.”

I knew that would be her answer, so I shut off the car and run over to help her out. She walks gingerly to the door. Her steps are slow and calculated.

“Mom, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling great, just tired.”

Tired is how she’s always feeling. I know the chemo is supposed to weaken your system, but at what point does your body start rebuilding?

Surprisingly when we enter, only half the restaurant is filled, and we’re seated right away.

“You’ll have to excuse the noise,” the waitress says as she sets do

wn our menus. “The Boston Renegades are here celebrating their win.”

I look at her quickly and then my mom, whose eyes narrow. The pull to go see Cooper is strong, knowing he’s a few feet away from me, but I know my mother would rather tie me to the chair than let me get up and go see him. Even using the bathroom as an excuse won’t work since we’re closer to the restroom than he is. Truthfully, though, I wouldn’t go over because that would likely embarrass him.

Instead of trying to catch his eye, I open the menu and pretend to look over my options. I already know what I’m getting—apple pie with ice cream—because I get it every single time I come here.

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