Page 7 of First Love, Second Draft

“So that’s why you came back? To offer home remedy tricks you picked up online? Well, thank you, Noah. There’s a stubborn stain on one of the bedroom carpets. Maybe you can tackle that next.”

“Sure. Got any baking soda?”

She shot him the same look batters would give him when his pitch ran a little too close inside the plate. He gave her the same look he’d give back to the batters. All innocence. “Look Gracie, you need help. I’m here to help. Simple as that.”

“Ha. Nothing’s as simple as that. Not when it comes to us,” she muttered as she tried propping herself on her elbows to readjust the pillow behind her.“Don’t,”she said when he started lowering the footrest to help.

He lifted his hands in surrender and leaned back. After barely seeing her in person for five years, he didn’t mind taking the opportunity to just drink her in while she was distracted doing... well, whatever it was she was trying to do with that pillow.

A few years ago he’d started watching reruns of that showThe Closerbecause a teammate once commented how Gracie resembled the main actress with her long blonde hair and sass. No offense to Kyra Sedgwick, but Noah would choose Gracie any day of the week—even now, with all the sweating and crazed muttering.

“Sure you don’t want help with that pillow?”

She blew a sweaty strand of hair out of her face and flopped back against the couch, having apparently given up on adjusting the pillow more than half an inch. “What I want is for you to tell me the real reason you’re here. What do you want from me? You lose all your million bajillion baseball dollars in a bad investment or something? Because I’ve got news for you. You’re not going to find any extra cash lying around here. Not with the medical bills Dad and I have been racking up lately.”

She clutched her ribs and squeezed her eyes shut. “Pretty sure I’ll be adding funeral expenses here in a minute.”

Noah lowered the footrest and grabbed her hand before she had time to toss out anotherDon’t!“Hey, listen to me. If you need money—”

She yanked free. “I don’t. Not from you. Unless we’re talking about the rent. I do need that. But no. Not even that. What I need is for you to...” For the first time, her hazel eyes met his. And held. And he was reminded of the first time they met. When he’d slammed the locker shut his first day of starting a new high school, and a girl with a giant ponytail and an armload of books appeared next to him.

“You’re new” is what she’d said back then.

“Go away” is what she said now. But she was looking at him with the same pair of eyes. Eyes that always contained a mixture of green, gold, and brown. But more importantly—interest.

Of course, mixed in with those swirls of interest, her eyes had always contained plenty of stubborn too.

The clock above the mantel ticked off several seconds as they stared each other down, waiting for the other to blink first. Well, guess what. It wasn’t going to be him.

“Hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re not getting rid of me. Not this time. I’m back and I’m staying. For as long as it takes. I’m not leaving until we figure things out.”

Then before she could stop him, he leaned forward and adjusted the pillow further behind her shoulders because good grief, nobody’s neck should be at an angle like that.

He no sooner had the pillow positioned than she flung it to the floor.

“We’re divorced. We’re long past the point of figuring things out. Besides, we both know your ‘as long as it takes’ only means until next season rolls around. Now grab me a tissue—and don’t call mebabe.”

Until next season rolls around?Did she really not get it? Noah grabbed the pillow from the floor and propped her feet on it, then grabbed a tissue from a Kleenex box on the trunk and handed it to her. “Gracie, I’m done. For good. My arm finally hit its expiration date. I was lucky to last as long as I did.”

Gracie dabbed her forehead. “Please. How many times have I heard you tell me you were done pitching? You never meant it before. You sure don’t mean it now.”

“Have you forgotten how old I am? I’m ancient.”

“Have you forgotten I’m older than you? Watch your mouth.”

“You know I’m talking baseball years. I’m the Crypt Keeper.”

“So? That still doesn’t mean you’re done with baseball. You can be a coach, a manager, a hot dog vendor,something. Mark my words, you’re not done. You’ll never be done. So stop pretending this time is different, and leave. We both know it’s coming.”

Gracie fisted her sweaty tissue in a white-knuckled grip. “Besides, I imagine you’d rather go hang out with that little Joanna Gaines–wannabe girlfriend of yours instead of playing nursemaid to me. Pippy? Peppy? She’s cute, whatever her name is. Of course, everyone’s cute when they’re twenty. Or is she over the legal drinking age by now?”

“If you’re going to keep tabs on my social life, you might want to try a little harder at getting it right. Her name is Piper Green. And I have no idea how old she is because she’s obviously not my girlfriend. You should know better than anyone that I would never even consider dating a woman who is—”

“Half your age?”

“I was going to say a Mets fan, but yeah, that too.” Noah smirked at Gracie’s attempt to bean him with her wadded-up tissue. He retrieved it from the floor and tossed it on the trunk. “You know there’s never been anyone but you. Ever. And if you don’t know that, then you at least ought to know you can’t believe everything you see online.”

“I know you two looked awful cozy in that picture I saw from whatever hospital fundraiser you attended last winter. I believe that.”

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