Page 82 of The Problem with Players

The mood of the whole morning was light and fluffy. Youngkids were running around, taking bets on who they thought would win. My team—the yellow team—was led by Easton and River. That was until they handed the coaching position over to me. They were awful coaches, but at least they knew how to hit home runs. Each time we scored, I loved seeing the irritation sitting on Nathan’s face.

The more the sun rose, the more excitement I began to feel. When it came down to the fifth inning—the final inning, because there was no way we would play a full nine innings—everyone was standing in the bleachers, cheering on team yellow.

The score was blue team five and yellow team four. Everyone was hungry for the win. We already had two outs. I was sitting on second base, and Easton was up to bat. He had two strikes, but I knew he could do it.

Nathan was pitching, and he had the smuggest look on his face, feeling as if he was about to take his brother out. I saw the sweat brewing on Easton’s forehead. The opposing team’s chants and mocking were getting to him.

“Come on, Easton, you got this,” I cheered on. I tapped my hand against my chest and over my heart. “Think here, not here,” I said, tapping my head next.

Think with your heart, not your mind.

A motto I’d learned from my father when he first taught me how to hold my first baseball. Heart over head. Daddy always said the game was over before it started if a person took their head into it more than their heart. It was something that stuck with me for a long time.

Easton nodded, gripped his baseball bat in his hand, and got into the right position. He had his game face on, with black pats smeared beneath his eyes. He was locked in.

Unfortunately, so was Nathan.

As Nathan threw the ball toward Easton, I held my breaththe whole time, ready to sprint faster than ever before if need be.

It all happened so quickly. The ball released from Nathan’s hand, a perfect pitch, which wasn’t shocking. Nathan might’ve played left field in the Major Leagues, but his pitching skills were always remarkable to me.

And Easton swung.

He swung like never before, making hard contact with the ball. It went soaring, too, farther than ever, making it nearly impossible for the other team to get.

I took off running as if my heart would explode from my chest. Right behind me was Easton, who was probably one of the fastest people I’d ever seen in my life. His track days came in handy that morning. The crowd erupted in shouts and cheers as I slid into home plate. Easton slid over the plate right after me, scoring us two points, making us the winners of the game.

I burst out in celebration with my teammates, wrapping Easton in the biggest hug. Before I knew it, he and River were tossing me up in the air to celebrate the win, calling me the MVP of the game. I couldn’t stop laughing as I begged them to let me down.

That was what it was all about. The teamwork, the excitement, the game.

Gosh, that felt good.

It felt like a high I hadn’t felt in so long. It was one thing to coach the sport, yet it was another to lace up your shoes and get out on the diamond. I missed it so much more than I realized.

They returned me to the ground, and Easton patted his chest. “Here, Avery.” He tapped his head. “Not here.”

I smirked. “Damn straight, buddy.” I hugged him again, and he ruffled my hair with his hand in a victory cry.

“All right, Team Blue, you know the deal. Get to work,” Laurelin said, clapping her hands together from the stands. “Everyone else can head over to the barn house. I have a few snacks I tossed in there before brunch is ready.”

My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard as Nathan walked over to me. He held a hand out my way. “Good game, Coach.”

I shook his hand. “Great game. Too bad we smoked you.”

His dimples deepened as he shook his head. “You always were a sore winner.”

“What can I say? I get cocky with this game.”

“Cockiness looks good on you. You can beat me every week at this game if it keeps making you smile like that.”

An odd swirl of butterflies fell into my stomach from that comment.

I dropped my hold on his hand and rubbed my hands over my ponytail, trying to shake off the flurry of electricity that just raced through my system. I shoved him lightly, trying not to show him that he had some odd effect on me simply from his touch and his words. “I like my eggs scrambled, Nathaniel.”

He smirked bigger. “It would be an honor to scramble your eggs, Avery.” He slightly bowed and winked before he headed off to get the meal going.

Oh crap.

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