“Ready!”
And—oh. Okay, maybe Ty didn’tneedOllie with him. Because he had Ollie’s kid dressed in Ty’s old baseball jersey from about a hundred years ago. It hung down past his waist and the sleeves covered his elbows. Nothing bad could happen to Ty if he had Theo with him dressed like that.
He cleared his throat. “Wow, nice outfit. Where did you find that?”
“I found it in the basement earlier this week.” Ollie shot him a small smile. “I was looking for more paperwork.”
“I can’t believe you braved the centipedes.”
Ollie took a step back, feigning horror. “There arecentipedes?”
Ty shot him a look. “Did you find any? More paperwork, I mean.”
“A bit. Your dad was a pack rat. As evidenced.” He indicated Theo’s shirt.
“I can’t believe he kept that.” More likely he hadn’t known it existed. “My mom must’ve put that stuff away before she died.”
“But it’s okay if I wear it?” Theo asked.
“Course. Like I said, looks good on you.” And now they would roll up at town hall together with Theo wearing his support for Ty right on his back—keen political machination on Ollie’s part. “We really do have to go, though.”
It never ceased to amaze Ty how the whole town would turn out for a baseball game even if the team hadn’t won all year. Obviously the town needed to put in a trampoline park or something. Maybe a movie theater even.
The visitors’ stands, on the other hand, were nearly as empty as the visitors’ dugout. From the looks of things, Central High had tapped their JV team to fill out their numbers. A couple of the guys were barely taller than Theo.
Three of them were girls, although Ty knew better than to underestimate them based on that. Either one of them had the mumps, or she had a wad of chewing tobacco stuck in her lip.
Ty watched her spit into a bottle.
Okay, then.
“Play ball!” the umpire yelled, and Ty turned his focus to the game.
Even with a skeleton crew, Central High played a tight game. But Pete’s pitching kept them off the scoreboard. Ty’s kids eked out a run in the second inning and two in the fifth.
In the top of the seventh, Tobacco Girl hit the ball deep into left field with two runners on base. Two outs. Ty bit his lip as it went right over the fielder’s head and Tobacco Girl took off at a run.
The runner on third crossed home plate just as the fielder caught up with the ball. He fired the ball toward second base—far too late to catch the second runner rounding third, but they had a hope of getting Tobacco Girl.
Riley missed the catch. Tobacco Girl made for third. On first base, Danny stopped the ball and sent it blistering toward third.
“Out!”
Jesus. Somehow Ty unclenched the knot in his stomach. This game might actually be worse for his blood pressure than the stupid meeting afterward.
“I’ve got Tums if you want them,” Henry offered sotto voce.
“Fuck off,” Ty muttered, conscious of Theo two feet to his left, carefully marking the runs scored on a clipboard. Then, “Yes, please.”
Central held them scoreless to end the seventh, and then it was their turn at bat again.
“C’mon, Petey!” Riley encouraged from third base.
“I’m going to throw up,” Ty said. He’d never been this nervousplayinga sport.
Henry passed him another Tums. This time Ty took it without comment.
The kid walking up to the plate now looked like a minor leaguer. He had five o’clock shadow at eleven in the morning and shoulders that wouldn’t fit into Ollie’s Corolla.
