Free Blake (Season One: The Ninth Inning #2) by Lindsay Paige, Mary Smith

Foster.”
    Unfortunately, Hector chooses that moment to come back and says, “Grumpy can flirt? Man, I’m missing all the good stuff.”
    “Yes, you did. It’s was the best flirting I’ve seen in a long time,” Sofia teases him, and he laughs.
    “Yeah, I bet.”
    I glare at him, wishing he’d leave. “My house is within walking distance. Maybe you should head on back without me.”
    “Relax,” Hector tells me, glancing to Sofia. “Sof likes having me here, don’t ya?”
    “Of course. The more the merrier.”
    Just because Hector is here doesn’t mean I have to pay attention to him. Instead, I’ll focus on Sofia. “Did you tell Harmony I’m back in your good graces?”
    “Not yet, the night is still young.”
    “It’s probably a good thing.” My phone rings. I pull it from my pocket to see Mom’s name on the caller ID. “Excuse me for a second.” I walk outside because I don’t want them overhearing my conversation. “Mom? Everything okay?”
    “Could you come over, Blake?”
    “Yeah, I’ll come over. Are you okay?”
    “Yes, just c’mon before he gets back.”
    “Okay. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes or less.” Shit. I don’t know what things are like, but hopefully, not too bad since he’s left her alone for a bit. After hanging up, I go back inside, pulling money from my wallet and laying it on the table. “Sorry, Sofia, I gotta go. Let’s go, Hector.”
    “Why do you always get a call when I’m about to eat pizza?” Hector asks, pissing me off.
    “Shut the hell up and let’s go.”
    Sofia looks worried, but I ignore it. Once I drop Hector off at my house, I drive over to my parents’.
    “Mom?” I call out as I enter the house.
    “In his office.”
    When I walk into the room, she’s kneeling on the floor, trying to pick up pieces of glass with shaky hands. There’s broken glass everywhere it seems. A few sheets of paper, pens, and two baseballs are on the floor as well. I rush to Mom and help her stand up.
    “I’ll get it, Mom. What happened?” I lead her over to a chair and make her sit.
    “He’s been drinking, and I walked into his office to ask him a question. I didn’t knock first,” she answers.
    “And what? He started throwing things at you?” She nods. The baseballs on the floor brings back bad memories and my stomach churns. “Did he manage to hit you with anything?”
    Mom keeps her gaze down on the mess. “He can still pitch like a pro even when he’s drunk.”
    Son of a bitch. I crouch and lift her face, wanting her to look at me. “Are you okay?” I ask for what feels like the millionth time.
    “I’ll be fine. I just needed help cleaning up.” Mom gives me a small smile.
    “Alright. You stay put and I’ll do it.” Once she nods in agreement, I leave for the kitchen, so I can grab the broom and dust pan. She asked me not to push him and I haven’t. What’s the point? He’s still hitting her anyway.
    As I start sweeping up the glass, I take advantage of us being alone. “When did he start drinking today?”
    “Around eleven.”
    “Is it daily again?”
    “You don’t need to worry so much, son,” she says quietly.
    “If you don’t want me to worry, then you should think about leaving. If you weren’t here with him, I wouldn’t worry.” I wait for her to say something, but she only points to some glass I missed. “Do you want any ice or something for the pain? How close were you when he threw the balls?”
    “I’m fine, Blake. Just hurry up and finish.”
    I soften my voice, stop sweeping, and look at her. “I’m not him, you know. You can tell me if it hurts. I know it does. And we both know if you’re going to do something to ease the pain, you need to do it before he comes back.” Jack usually keeps a close eye on her to make sure she doesn’t take any pain meds or does anything that could make her feel better.
    “You’re nothing like your father, Blake. I know that.”
    When she doesn’t offer anything more, I