Page 83 of Trip Through Your Wires

I start to slide off and he grabs the leg that’s still draped over him. “I saw the way your eyes lit up last night when you talked about playing ball in college. You love it, just as much as I do.”

“No,” I say a second time, and pull my leg out of his grasp.

Swinging both over the side of the bed, I look down and search the floor for my clothes. “I want to see you.” He scoops my pajama bottoms up and hands them to me.

“Um,” I look down at the clothes in my hand, “I think you already have.”

“Not your body,” he rolls his eyes. “This.” He points to my heart. “Your first love.”

“I haven’t pitched in two years,” I shake my head. “I don’t think I can anymore.”

“Bullshit.” He waves off the comment. “Once a pitcher, always a pitcher.”

“Okay,” I nod. “Then how about this…I can’t bear any weight on my left knee.”

“Shift the weight,” he shrugs. “Have your right side bear the momentum.”

“Uh-huh,” I nod, knowing it won’t be that easy. “And these?” I hold up my hand, flashing nails he is very aware of considering the scratches on his back.

“You didn’t have them in high school?” he asks.

“My coach wouldn’t allow it.” I drop my hand. “Said it would throw off my snap.”

“Well, the starting pitcher on the girl’s team at Highland has long ass nails. Says it helps her grip and makes her fingers stronger.”

“Really?” I arch a brow. My coach in high school was adamant about keeping mine short. Then again, he turned out to be a real shit, so his advice may have been, too.

“Yeah, really,” he confirms. “So get back out there and show me what you got, Sparky.”

I bring my hand to my mouth, sucking on my thumb nail for a second. “Why do you want me to pitch for you?”

“Because you deserve to have all your dreams come true. And maybe,” he pushes my hair back, “if you find your way back to the mound, they can.”

“And you think pitching for you will do that?”

He shrugs. “Never know until you try.”

Knowing he won’t take no for an answer, I do something I never thought I’d do. I agree to get back on the mound. “Okay.”

“Yes!” He jumps up from the bed and claps.

“But just one pitch. And if my knee gives out, and I fall…”

He flashes me that sexy smile of his that can sell anyone, anything. “Not gonna happen. I got you, Sparky.”

“Promise?”

Cupping my face, he kisses me sweetly, then pulls back. “Haven’t broken one yet, and don’t plan to start now.”

***

After throwing his clothes in the wash so he has something clean to wear home later, I find an old pair of Travis’ sweatpants and concert tee for Jake to throw on, and slip into my own sweats, T-shirt, and old Converse.

“You stand there.” I point to a spot in front of Papa’s old work shed. “I need to grab a couple of gloves and a ball.”

“Need help?” he calls out.

“Nope! Be right back.”

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