Read Online The SEAL's Valentine (Operation: Family) by Laura marie Altom - Free Book Online

freckled cheeks and chest and damn if Tristan could recall having ever seen a sexier pregnant woman.
    “Got ’em all, Coach Tristan!”
    Brynn’s son’s voice jolted Tristan to the present. With the balls back at his feet, he said, “Great. Now we’re gonna do it all over again. Remember, you can’t even swing at the ball unless it’s the color I call out.”
    “But that’s too hard. Why can’t we just hit the regular way?”
    “Because this is going to help your mind slow down enough to really see the ball. Right now, we just want you to hit most anything an opposing team’s pitcher throws. But eventually, you’re going to have to recognize fastballs and curveballs and all kinds of other pitches you haven’t yet seen.”
    “Oh.” A steeled mask of determination Tristan swore he’d once seen on Mack’s face settled over the boy’s features. Maybe he had some of his dad’s playing skill in him after all?
    In the stands, Brynn had leaned forward as far as her baby bump allowed. She’d abandoned her umbrella and fan to cross her fingers. Her hopeful expression was all the motivation Tristan needed to continue working with her son for as long as it took to make the game sink in. Only Tristan’s goal wasn’t so much about Cayden one day playing in the majors, but selfishly making Brynn smile again.
    * * *
    “ W ELL , HELLO . Y OU MUST be Cayden’s mother, Brynn.”
    From her seat in the empty stands, Brynn looked up to see a middle-aged woman with short salt-and-pepper hair and Tristan’s grin carrying an insulated jug and red Solo cups.
    “I’m Donna. Tristan’s mom. I figured the boys would be thirsty out in this sun.” She wagged the jug and ice shifted inside.
    “I know I am,” Brynn said with a laugh. “Nice to meet you and great idea.”
    Donna waved off the compliment. “When you’ve been a Little League mom for as many years as I have, you learn a few tricks along the way.”
    Out on the field, Tristan called to Cayden, “What’s going on with your grip? Remember how we talked about lining up your knuckles for a box grip?”
    Biting his lower lip, Cayden nodded and realigned his hands.
    “Good,” Tristan said. “Holding the bat with your palms can give you a pretty nasty bruise—no fun.”
    “He’s awfully good with kids,” Brynn said to Donna. “Earlier, when the whole team was here, he never lost his patience.”
    “He probably learned from his father.” Donna poured Brynn a lemonade. “When Tristan’s dad died—my Jim—it took a lot out of him. Tristan’s son, Jack, was a newborn at the time and Tristan poured all his grief into living for his son. Every time he shipped out on a mission, I know Tristan worried himself sick over keeping himself safe. Last thing he wanted was to leave his boy. So when his ex carted Jack off to California...” Donna’s expression darkened. “Let’s just say it’s been hard on us both.”
    “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened? Tristan’s not exactly chatty about his past.”
    “No...” After wiping sudden tears, his mother said, “Three years ago, he came home from six months in Afghanistan to find his house empty. Andrea and Jack gone. It was like a movie scene. So cruel. She hadn’t moved far, though, so I think in Tristan’s mind, as long as he got to see Jack as often as he liked, nothing much had changed. But then about a month ago, the man Andrea had been seeing accepted a job in L.A. He proposed and fast as a twister, swept Jack from Tristan’s life. The shock of it led to him making near-critical mistakes on his last mission. His commander sent him home—said in his current frame of mind he was unfit for duty. Tristan was devastated. Scares me to death when I think how much worse this all could’ve turned out if he’d been hurt—or any of his friends.” She took a deep, shuddering breath, then forced a smile. “Anyway...helping your Cayden is good for my son, and I appreciate you letting Tristan into