The gift was a Rawlings Pro Preferred glove.
Mason held that glove like it was something holy.
He slept with it that night, pressed against his face on the pillow, just like he used to sleep with the stuffed dog he’s been pretending not to care about for the past two years. He did the same thing on Sunday night too.
I stood in his doorway for a second before I turned off the hall light, watching him sleep, and I thought: when did he get so big?
Then I went to bed and told myself that the knot in my stomach was nothing.
Mason held that glove like it was something holy.
Here’s the thing about Daniel that I hadn’t let myself look at too directly.
He’d been Mason’s coach for two seasons. And he was good, patient, and firm, the kind of coach who remembers each kid’s mechanics and doesn’t just yell at them to hustle. Mason liked him from the start, which matters, because Mason doesn’t warm up to many adults quickly.
But over the last few months, something had shifted.
It started with Mason staying late after practice to « work on his swing. »
