Page 30 of Nothing Like the Movies

“I can absolutely handle it, and I can’t wait.” I smiled, meaning it, and said, “I think it’s time to get imbedded.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“People do fall in love. People do belong to each other, because that’s the only chance anybody’s got for real happiness.”

—Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Wes

“Easy.”

Woody popped up from his squat behind the plate and threw back the ten balls that’d been in the dirt beside him as Ross said, “Don’t give up accuracy for speed.”

What the hell was that, Wesley?

I caught each ball and dropped them by my feet, wiping my forehead with the back of my arm. “Okay.”

“You got this, Bennett.” Woody dropped back down and held out his glove. “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go.” I flipped the ball, running my index finger along the seam before taking a deep breath to clear my head.

Because even though my dad was dead—it’d been two years since he’d had the heart attack in his La-Z-Boy in front of theCubs/Mets game on TV—every time I pitched, he was right there with me.

I heard his voice with every bullpen I threw.

Occasionally I heard him when I was doing well, but mostly he spoke to me when I was struggling. Which really messed with my ability to power through because even though his voice was saying things likethrow ’em the gasand basically growling about how crappy I was pitching, it made me miss him.

Somuch.

Which was nuts, right? How did it make me miss him when it reminded me of what a psycho he’d been about baseball?

“Wes?” Ross looked at me with raised eyebrows.

Fuck.

“On it,” I said before winding up and letting loose with another fastball.

“Better,” he said as Woody dropped the ball he’d caught and held out his glove to catch another.

Better, but you need to throw harder, kid. Throw ’em the gas and quit being soft.

“Shut up,” I said under my breath as I threw hard, relishing the loud smack of the ball hitting Woody’s glove.

“Okay,” Ross said, taking off his baseball cap and putting it on again.

I grabbed another ball, refusing to let his voice into my head. I threw a curve this time, watching it drop over the plate. It was perfect,hell yes, and then I heard it.

Liz’s voice, laughing.

Was I seriously hearing her voice now too?

“Another one just like that,” Woody said, tossing the ball to his right.

I grabbed another ball, inhaled through my nose, and let loose with a killer fastball,hell yes.

“Let’s gooo,” Eli yelled from behind me, which meant the shortstops were here for their practice. I was about to throw another one when I heard him say, “Did you guys get that curve on camera?”

I turned my head and—holy damn—there was Liz.

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