Maggie glanced down to where her son, TJ, was devouring his hot dog with gusto, ketchup smeared all over his chin. His big blue eyes met hers and when he offered a cheeky grin, she couldn’t help but smile despite the anger roiling deep inside her.

“He’ll be here,’ she managed with as much confidence as she could muster. But deep down, that confidence was waning. Tom had called her earlier to say he’d been caught up in an unexpected and last-minute meeting, and that he would come straight to the high school from his office. He’d also told her that he was on his way. But that was forty minutes ago.

Maggie’s gaze shifted in the direction of the main entry gate, the view shrouded by people waiting in line at the concession stands. Her knees bounced up and down as anxiety stirred low in her belly.

Tom had been missing moments like these more and more lately. For the last six months, at least, his work had managed to take priority over his children. Sure, he was a big-shot lawyer at one of the most prestigious firms in the city, but he’d promised. He’d promised, no matter what, he would be here tonight. It was his son’s very first varsity baseball game. He’d been selected from the junior varsity team due to an injury. If Tom missed Jack’s varsity debut, she could only imagine how devastated her teenage son would be.

A sudden flurry of excitement followed a thunderous roar, pulling Maggie from her thoughts. TJ jumped up onto the metal bench, screaming his big brother’s name as the team ran out from the dugout. Maggie zeroed in on number four—her handsome son—and a proud smile spread over her face as she stood up, clapping and cheering with vigor. But then she saw Jack turn, taking in the bleachers from the pitcher’s mound, his gaze almost instinctively settling upon her, and she could pinpoint the very moment he realized his father hadn’t shown. That heartbreaking look of disappointment on his face was painfully obvious, even from high up in the stands.

But Jack was strong. Resilient. He always had been. Stoic. So much like his father. And his despondency was replaced by a tight-lipped smile that he quickly hid by pulling the brim of his ball cap ever lower, shielding the sadness in his eyes before joining the rest of his team. But Maggie knew her son better than anyone, and she could see it in the way his shoulders remained slightly hunched in defeat, the way his cleats dragged ever so slightly over the grass. He was crushed.

Maggie could handle Tom’s neglect, she’d been putting up with it for a little while, she was almost used to his work taking precedence over her. But she refused to sit by and watch her husband neglect their sons. She refused to watch either of her sons cry tears Tom had caused.

You’d better have a damn good excuse this time, she thought with gritted teeth.