gs through the phone and it nearly breaks me in half.
“Really. I love your mom, but she’s your girl. I trust that you know what’s best for her and if you don’t think it’s a good idea, I’ll listen. Because I respect you. But I would love the opportunity to help you take care of her. And, you know, be there for you for the stuff girls suck at.”
“So guy stuff other than baseball?”
I laugh. “Yeah. I’ll use Linc for the baseball stuff because God knows I don’t want to mess you up there.”
I can tell he’s grinning, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Maybe when you get back to town, we can go to dinner, just the two of us, and you can tell me what you think about that, okay?”
“I think it’s a good idea. I need some help with her,” he says, a touch of exasperation in his little voice. “When she cries, I don’t know what to do. I need an adult, and my grandma just cries too, and then I have two crying girls to deal with.”
I wish he was here. But he’s not. And that’s a problem.
“I’ll gladly be your help with her. And if you tell me where you are, I’ll come now.”
He waits a moment before responding. “I can’t tell you tonight. She hasn’t agreed to be a family yet, so, right now, I have to be loyal to her.”
“Promise me one thing, okay?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“If you need anything, if your mom needs anything, you will call me.”
“Okay. But I need to go because she’s getting out of the shower now.”
“Hux?” I say quickly.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for calling me. Call me anytime.”
“Okay,” he smiles. “But I do need to go.”
“Bye, buddy.”
“Bye.”
I end the call and gaze into the night.
Barrett
THE CROWD IS BUZZING BEHIND the closed door. A few people stand in the wings with me, ensuring the main television stations are present and that the journalists that will run the story on me are here. They may as well get the word straight from the jackass’s mouth. Me. That’s how I feel over this situation. It’s time to make things right.
I'm in a black suit, customary red tie and flag pin, and have a bullet-point list of things to say in front of me that I scribbled out in the Rover on the way over here. From now on, I’m going with my gut, speaking from the heart, instead of relying on someone else’s script.
I’ve found some peace since talking to Huxley last night, not as much as if I’d spoken with Ali, but more than I had.
"Are you sure you want to do this? Absolutely sure?" Graham eyes me carefully, sipping on a cup of coffee. He's wearing a suit like mine, blue tie, and a lot more worry lines. He knows what I'm doing, and while I think he disagrees, he's done what I knew he would do—he shut up and got behind me.
"Do I look sure?"
He blows out a breath and slips his phone from his pocket. His face shows a few more lines when he hands it to me. "It's Dad. I'll just step away while you take this."
"Pussy," I grumble, taking the phone and watching him walk away. I scan the immediate area and duck inside a small room to my right. "Hey, Dad."
"Barrett, what in the hell are you doing? I'm on my way over there now after getting a call from Graham. What is this press conference about?"