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jacob smokes.
A day before Momma and Dad were to return Uncle Jacob woke me up just when the sun started to come up over the trees, and on a Sunday, too. I was groggy, grouchy and grumpy and I had a headache, probably from all the cake and such.

"C'mon, little man." It sounded like Momma but with a cold, or after a night of too many martinis.

"Whaaaat?" I had been in the middle of a dream about my dog and a swimming pool somewhere with nothing but sunshine and icy cold sodas and a million Reese's cups all around the pool, close enough so's we didn't need to even get out of the pool to get one.

"Get dressed. We're going to have a baseball lesson."

If he woke me up just so I could laugh at him and his weak arm, maybe losing the dream where Tribble could swim the elementary backstroke right beside me and my poor dog wasn't missing somewhere with Terry, then it would be worth it.

Alex and Jillian and Jacob were already outside when I came down. I thought I heard the sweet crack of leather on leather as a ball slapped into a mitt, and I was right. Alex and Jacob were throwing back and forth, fast. Like really, fast. He might be gay, but he throws smoke.



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