Page 87 of Force At Third

The first pitch, it’s perfect, a fucking gift that Houser didn’t know he was giving, and I swing with everything I have.

When the ball connects, I know just by the feel and sound that it’s going over the fence, and it does just that.

Crossing home plate, I point two fingers at my parents, and then I spot one of the news cams, point at the lens, back at myself, and then hold up two fingers, and then four, knowing that when Gwen sees this, she’ll know that symbolizes the same damn thing it always has. The same thing she asked me to stop doing not long after we broke up—you and me, together forever. She’ll either smile or get really fucking annoyed. At this point, I really don’t give a damn, just as long as she knows it’s coming.

And it is coming.

Seconds later, I’m in a fucking pile.

“First grand slam since I’ve been playing with you, and you do it dragging ass?” Steel laughs.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, kid.”

***

When I get in the locker room, I grab my phone, power it up, and text Mom and Dad to tell them where to meet me.

Then I see a message from Ms. Deb.

Deb: Zane brought us to your fabulous home, so you don’t have to come collect us after your game.

Another text from Marks.

Marks: I planned to pick a lock; instead, I punched your high school jersey number and York’s into your basic as fuck system. You need an upgrade. I’m staying until that’s in place.

I can’t help but laugh, knowing that bringing my folks back with me will make things a bit awkward when Gwen wakes up in the morning, but what can you do except roll with the punches?

In the shower, AJ asks, “Guessing we’re skipping O’Donnell’s again?”

“I’m heading to the beach for the night. Spotted my folks in the stands, so I’m out.”

“What about Gwen, Annie, and Deborah?” Bennett asks.

“Marks took them to the beach so she could get some rest.”

“How long of a drive is it?” he asks.

“Forty minutes. Why?” I lean back to rinse the shampoo from my hair.

“I just was hoping to get some sleep tonight, but it’s fine, I guess.”

Nour and my eyes catch, and he lowers his head, shaking it just enough for me to catch it, and steps in. “Thinking we should head back to CeCe’s since we promised breakfast in the morning, but?—”

“Who’s going to make Gwen breakfast?” Bennett cuts him off.

“Her mom’s in town. I’m sure she won’t let her starve,” I assure him, and then I mouth, “Thank you,” to Nour.

“Can you manage not to piss her off?” Bennett asks.

I know the shit is asking me this question, but it takes a minute for me to form a reply that won’t drive a wedge in the bridge we’ve been building.

Nour walks out, shaking his head.

My eyes meet Bennett’s now.

“What? It’s a legit question.”

“I’ll do my best.” I smile, turn off my water, and head out.

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