Ethan stood in the on-deck circle, scanning the weather-worn bleachers for his dad.
He’d be next to Mr. Densmore, probably, but he was nowhere.
Gunnar walked, bases loaded.
The game was midseason, didn’t mean anything to anyone except a handful of kids and their coaches.
Ethan took the count to two and two.
He stepped out of the box, one more look to the s…
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