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We agree that none of this gets discussed with Chloe and CeCe now, and that, as planned, we’ll all be meeting at Revolutionary Field to watch Pope play tonight.
I sent a few messages to the East Coast men and women whom Marks and I had put on our “dream roster” of PIs and personal security men and women we used in Walton PD’s system to dig deep into before we resigned our positions there—five from each state. Over the years, we’ve met and worked with many of them, but we have our favorites. Ex-cops, men and women who have left the military, and plenty of not-so-upstanding citizens who are able to get street information we can’t, but at a hefty price. Although the moms kick ass at gathering information through social media and public records and are at our beck and call—mostly because they’re our moms—we have two preferred hackers we use when absolutely necessary to do the not-so-legal digging. Right now, EchoFury, who we have met in person and whose real name is Alice, is checking out the passenger logs of all three private jets. Both my mom and I are entirely fascinated by this skill. For a criminal, she’s incredibly trustworthy.
I spent the rest of the day hunched over my screens, narrowing down the list of twenty girls in the Jersey area who share the same birthday as the child Chloe gave birth to. I’ve narrowed it down to three who I will contact when Marks is here to cover CeCe when Danny, Chloe, and Aggie are back in Walton, safe.
I look up when I get a FaceTime request and hit accept.
“You sleepy, Gwenie?” Aggie asks from inside the vehicle they rented.
“I am, just a little bit. Are you?”
“Nuh-uh, I taked a nap. You should have taken one, too.” She looks to her left. “Did you take a nap?”
“I did,” CeCe says.
“You’re a good girl, Aunt CeCe.”
“And what does that make me? Bad?” I giggle. Yep, Texas Aggie makes me giggle.
She shakes her head. “Not bad, but you gotta make better choices.”
“I wish my mom had taught me that.”
“I teached you, so you’ll be all better.”
“Perfect.” I wink, and she blinks back at me before turning back to CeCe.
“Did your mom teach you that, too?” she asks.
Ouch. From what I understand, CeCe doesn’t remember her mom.
“She didn’t, but your mom did. You have the most amazing mom, Aggie.”
Aggie grins. “Daddy and I are lucky girls.”
Danny barks out a laugh and says, “We sure are.”
“Hand Mommy the phone,” Chloe says, and Aggie blows me a kiss, which I catch.
Chloe’s head jerks back when she sees me. “You better fix your face and get Whit and those kids in the vehicle and on the road—it’s dang near game time.”
“Will do.”
* * *
Walking into the stadium, I feel some sort of way. Nostalgic? Numb? Am I lost somewhere in-between?
For the past several years, since Whit and Pope got together, I have felt like a teen again, all wide-eyed and excited about watching a game I have always loved.
Passing through the gates, an invisible energy always sweeps over me like a wave of anticipation. Cresting the stairs to our seats and seeing the stadium stretch out before me, and then the perfectly manicured diamond at its center, a thing of beauty. Then there’s the crack of the bat as the teams warm up—you can’t help but feed off of that.
It’s different now, and not because Whit and Chloe have kids here. I love their energy, love getting them riled up, screaming for Pope, waving foam fingers, and having them on my lap and in my space. Now, I’m just nervous. The buzz of excitement in the air now is more of an annoyance. The smell of hot dogs, popcorn, and freshly cut grass makes my stomach turn, and the mingled sound of vendors yelling, “Cold beer here!” and the roar of the crowd are really fucking annoying.
“Are you okay?” Whit whispers as we make our way to the stairs.
I shake my head then smile at Chase, who is on my hip. “But I will be.”
“Marks is here?”
