Blake (Season One: The Ninth Inning #2) by Lindsay Paige, Mary Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

in your mouth.
     
    Me: Sorry, Blakey, the wine is getting to my head, but hey one more thing: do you know why Jimmy Pearsall ran the bases backwards in 1963?
    Blake: Because he hit his 100th home run.
     
    I groan, hoping that maybe he’d get it wrong.
     
    Me: Darn it, I thought I might have had you, Blakey! Good night!
    Blake: Nice try though. Night, Sofia.
     
    I sit my phone down and curl up with my pillow, thinking of Blake’s lips and hazel eyes.

 
     
    I’M STILL NOT sure what to make of Sofia’s texts, but I’m relieved she stuck to safe topics. Although, keeping the conversation going doesn’t exactly keep her a safe distance away. And that thought is big and powerful as I stand on the porch of my parents’ home. I feel like a jerk for taking a few extra days before coming to see my mom. There’s no telling what kind of shape she might be in and instead of coming over sooner, I took my time.
    I knock on the door, hoping she answers instead of Jack.
    “If it isn’t my little boy.”
    “Where’s Mom?”
    “In the kitchen, making me food like a woman is supposed to do. Are you going to come in or should we stand here on the porch?”
    I brush his shoulder as I walk past him and into the kitchen. Thankfully, he doesn’t follow me. “Hey, Mom. Need any help?”
    She glances at me with a smile, and I force one back. There’s a fading bruise on her face. “No, I’ve got it. Did you have a good trip?”
    I see an onion waiting to be cut, the knife abandoned next to it. I start chopping and answer, “Yeah, it was good.”
    “Anything fun happen?”
    “Depends on your definition of fun. How have things been here? I tried calling you, but he answered.”
    “Blake, please tell me you’re not off having random sex with women whose names you don’t know. You don’t want to have a string of kids across the country.” In this case, no news is bad news. If she’s avoiding the question, then it hasn’t been good.
    “That bad, huh?” I sigh, guilt surging through me. “Sorry, Mom. It’s my fault.”
    Her voice lowers to a whisper. “Blake, he’s a little tense with the Hall of Fame nominations coming up. Could you please not push him so much?” Good to know she agrees that it’s my fault. “For me. I know you want to protect me and I love you for that, but I can’t handle him and worry about you at the same time.”
    I keep my voice low, too. “Mom, you can’t handle him at all. Why won’t you let me help you? Your life is worth more than how he’s treating you. I can help and make sure he never finds you.”
    “He always finds us, Blake.” She shakes her head at what she thinks is a useless argument between us. “How many times did I try to leave when you were little? He always finds us. I can’t run. This is my life and I’m not going to burden you with it. You’re young and you should be out having fun with your baseball buddies, not worrying about me.”
    She’s right. He always either foiled her plans or caught up to us before we could get too far. There’s one big difference between then and today, though. “But we can actually do it now, Mom. I have the resources to make it happen. We didn’t have that before. You want to leave. Don’t be too scared to do it. I promise, I can get you outta here and he won’t find you.”
    Her eyes watch me for a moment and I can see the wheels turning in her head.
    “What fuck is all the whispering about?” Jack asks as he walks into the room.
    Mom lies easily. “I was telling Blake that I made an apple pie because it’s your favorite and not Blake’s chocolate cream pie.”
    “I pay the bills here. Blake doesn’t, and that means you don’t need to cater to your fucking son.” He glares as he steps closer to her. “I need another beer.” I clench my jaw as she rushes to the fridge, not five feet away from both of them, to grab a beer he could have gotten himself.
    I don’t know how much longer I can stay and watch this. “I