Page 33 of Beautiful Crazy

“What happened?”

“He tore his rotator cuff his senior year. It was gnarly and ended his whole career before it could even get started.”

“Ouch, that’s awful.”

“Yeah, but it ended up working out because Grace was about to give birth to Blakely anyway.”

The game starts, and for the first one, it’s pretty good. All the kids give it their best go; Beau even manages to hit a home run and Sutton hits a few good ones too. Their excitement and the energy in the stands are contagious, and it brings me back to when I was a kid, learning to play the game. I’ve always been somebody who doesn’t like being bad at anything. A bit of a perfectionist, if you will, so I would get frustrated often as I was learning to hit or catch the ball.

Baseball wasn’t my dad’s thing, it interrupted his late nights and Saturday mornings at the office. Thankfully, our next-door neighbor at the time, Brody, was a big-time baseball fan. I vividly remember him practicing with me for hours on end, helping me perfect my craft. I wouldn’t know half as much as I do now about the sport if it wasn’tfor him. He’d even come to my games if he was free, and if he couldn’t come, he’d listen to me talk about it the next morning.

I guess in a way, Sutton reminds me of myself when I was younger. Except I’m sure his father would be here today if he could. Can’t say the same about my dad.

After the game is over—they win—the boys rush to us, adrenaline pumping from the win. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and I swear my heart seizes in my chest when Sutton runs over to me and gives me a huge, tight hug and says, “Thank you, Everett! For helping me practice. Thank you!”

“You did it, buddy,” I murmur, brushing a hand across his back. “So proud of you!”

Looking up, my gaze locks with Gemma’s, and a rush of tingles rolls down my spine as I take in the wide smile on her face.

“All right, let’s go back to my place,” somebody announces, and when I turn my head in the direction of where it came from, I notice it’s Gemma’s sister, Georgia. “I got stuff to grill hamburgers and hot dogs.” Then she flits her gaze over at me. “You too, neighbor boy.”

I breathe out a laugh at the nickname, looking toward Gemma to make sure it’s okay.

“Yeah!” Sutton shouts. “Oh, you gotta come, Everett! It’ll be fun!”

Gemma’s lips curl into a grin that makes my stomach flip-flop. “Yeah, you gotta come,” she parrots, tilting her head up at me.

Looking back at Georgia, I say, “Well, all right, I’m there.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” I ask Georgia as I step into her kitchen where she’s slicing up some fresh fruit for the kids to snack on.

Glancing up from her task, she meets my gaze and smiles. Out of all the siblings, I think Georgia and Gemma look the most alike. They both have the same dark brown eyes and a light smattering of freckles across the apples of their cheeks and their nose. Georgia’s hair is a little darker than Gemma’s, and she’s taller, but they definitely look alike. I believe they’re the closest in age too, if I’m remembering correctly.

“I think I got it,” she offers. “But thank you. Having fun today?”

Stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I nod. “Yeah, I am,” I reply honestly. “I was excited when Sutton asked me to come to his game. I haven’t been to one in far too long.”

“You know, it’s nice of you to help him out and show up for him. I’m sure he really appreciates that.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. He’s a great kid, and he’s fun to be around.”

She nods, bringing her gaze back to the cantaloupe on the cutting board. “Yeah, he is, and he’s been through more in his short life than he deserves.”

My mind automatically drifts back to the conversation Gemma and I had about her husband. Just like before, asense of sadness clutches at my chest. For both of them, and everything that they lost.

“I heard about Sutton’s dad,” I say softly.

“Gemma told you?” she asks, brows raised as she flicks her gaze over to me.

“She did.” I nod. “Last week. I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for both of them.”

“It was rough, but if anybody can pick themselves up off the ground and power through, it’s my sister.” There’s an air of pride in her tone. It’s obvious how close all of them are, and it’s something I admire. Gemma has such a strong group of family and friends by her side. “What about you?” she asks, not looking up from the fruit. “Ever been married, Everett?”

“Hey now,” Gemma drawls as she strolls into the kitchen. Her hand brushes along my upper back as she passes by me, a knowing smirk on her face. “Don’t be grilling my guest,” she teases, nudging her sister’s arm.

“As the oldest sister, it’s my duty—and my right—to grill the men you bring home, thank you very much.” Georgia flashes me a toothy grin as she plops a chunk of honeydew into her mouth.

Chuckling, I hold my hands up innocently. “I don’t mind.”

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