“You know something? I don’t think I’ve grown a thing in my life.”

“You grew a child. That’s the hardest thing in the world that there is to grow.”

“Good point, sir.”

The apples of his cheeks are rosy as he grins. “Thinking that’s working out better for you than that aloe vera you tried to keep alive when you started for me.”

“I forgot about that.” I laugh at the memory of that poor plant and my futile attempts to keep it from dying. “What happened to that thing?”

“I think Burt took it home to his wife.”

Poor lady. She had to deal with a struggling plant and Burt. Each is as prickly as the other.

I pause to work a boot out of a particularly thick vein of mud. As I free it from the hole, I look around.

This part of the bus yard—the back corner of the ten acres—has always been my favorite. If it’s foggy, the elevation has a magical vibe. If it’s clear, you can see all the way to Forest Falls. I always feel a touch removed from the world when I’m here, and sometimes that’s what I need.

“Did I tell you that Ethan is starting baseball today?” I ask Kirk as I catch up with him.

He chuckles. “Listen to all of that enthusiasm dripping from your voice.”

“Very funny.”

He shakes his head. “What spurred this, anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve never had Ethan pegged to be a sports kind of guy.”

I can’t discount this observation. I’m not sure Ethan would either. This proves two things. One, Jared doesn’t know his son very well, and two, he doesn’t respect me even a little bit. Otherwise, he would’ve had a conversation with me about baseball before signing him up.

Ugh.

“Jared signed him up,” I say with a shrug. “I’m sure you guessed that.”

“I did.”

“I don’t know what to think about it, really. I mean, it’s good for Ethan to get away from his video games and get some fresh air. And I love the teamwork aspect of it because he’s an only child.”

Kirk laughs. “As the father of three children, having siblings does not mean you learn teamwork. Just manipulation.”

I grin at him.

“What’s your holdup?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you said you didn’t know what to think about it. What is the other side of the coin, so to speak?”

I blow out a breath and watch the heat billow from my mouth.

There is something about the baseball situation that feels off in my stomach. I can’t explain it to myself, let alone to Kirk.

Jared doing anything that can remotely be described as parenting is so unusual. But baseball? Jared didn’t even play baseball, so it’s not a “my kid has to do what I did” kind of thing—not that Jared cares about that anyway. I’m happy when he remembers he has a kid.

So that’s weird. But what’s even stranger is that Ethan has never once, in his twelve years on the planet, mentioned an interest in anything with a ball. He didn’t even like balls as a toddler. I know Jared wasn’t prompted by something Ethan said.