Page 68 of The One I Left Behind

Walker throws his third pitch, and it’s literally a meatball over the plate. I swing and the ball sails toward the outfield. It looks really good, but I run like hell to first and then to second. As I’m about to round second, the entire dugout comes out, and I know I hit a home run.

Jude makes it home and waits for me, his arms open, and pulls me into a hug. The rest of my cousins and Brooks join us, celebrating the tie game.

Emmett grounds out trying to hit the ball too hard to get a home run after me.

It’s back and forth, each team not scoring for the next couple of innings. But the smack talk is fierce, and I thought I’d played with some of the worst in the league. They’d be astounded if they came here.

By the time we get to the last inning, Wild Bull is up by one, and it’s our last chance to tie or win. Jensen grounds out. Poppy strikes out. There’s a reason why she’s the ninth hitter. Lottie goes up to the plate, and we’re in good shape since we’re back to our leadoff hitter.

All the girls in my family have tied their T-shirts in knots at the back, saying they were too big and ruining their game. Lottie’s stomach is exposed, and paired with her shorts, there’s a lot of skin showing.

Brooks gets up on deck, taking practice swings. Lottie swivels her ass, and the catcher on Walker’s team can’t stop staring.

“Hey, eyes on the ball, buddy,” Brooks tells him, while his own eyes don’t leave Lottie’s ass.

Walker throws the pitch, and Lottie swings, fouling the ball off. Brooks is too mesmerized by Lottie’s ass, so the ball hits him square in the nuts. He falls to his knees, both hands covering his junk.

Gasps ring out from the bleachers.

A few teammates on both teams snicker while Emmett full out laughs.

“You’re telling me you wear all that shit but not a cup?” I shout.

Brooks flips me off, rolling back and forth on the ground.

Lottie goes over to Brooks and squats. She whispers something in his ear, and Brooks grunts and groans.

Brooks waddles into the dugout and Jude tosses him an ice pack from a cooler.

“Pinch hitter,” Jude calls. “Scarlett, you’re at bat.”

She looks up from her phone, her shoulders sinking. “I hate batting.”

“Well, we have no choice.”

She puts her phone down and grabs a helmet and a bat.

“She’s not good,” Jude whispers to me.

“I heard you!” Scarlett glares over her shoulder, but she doesn’t take any practice swings. She doesn’t even watch the pitches coming in.

Lottie shoots a ball right over the shortstop’s head. The left fielder can’t get there fast enough, so she reaches first base.

She jumps up and down on the base. “Come on, Scarlett! You got this!”

“Fucking Christ.” Brooks grabs his junk again.

I bite down on my lip. I’m fairly sure Brooks likes Lottie, and the way she’s jumping and things are bouncing it looks like pure torture for him.

Scarlett goes up to the plate. Walker throws the first pitch and it’s perfect, but Scarlett swings and misses.

We all shout words of encouragement to her.

She nods and narrows her eyes at Walker.

“I’ll give you a real easy one,” he baits her, then throws another perfect pitch down the middle.

She swings and misses.

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