Page 42 of Hot Shot

“Just sleepovers sometimes. He’s my friend. Sometimes we go get ice cream or go to baseball games.”

That makes me feel a little better. “Well, that’s good. I love going to baseball games.”

“Me too. I wanted to play the rec league, but then Trent never signed me up.”

“We have a rec league in Roseville, and I bet Wilder would love to teach you how to play. Did you know he used to pitch for the LA Dodgers?”

She lights up. “That’s what Pawpaw said.”

“Do you have a glove and bat?”

She shakes her head.

“Well, we’ll take care of that.”

Cricket smiles up at me. “You’re nice, Cass.”

I wink. “Hey, thanks. You’re pretty nice too.”

Grass crunches behind me, and I look over to find Wilder heading toward us. He tries to smile, but it’s thin.

“Hey, there y’all are,” he says when he reaches us. “Psh, is this the best you can do, Cass? I can push her higher than this.”

Cricket giggles and kicks her feet. “Higher!”

I gesture to the swing. “Be my guest.”

Wilder’s already shrugging out of his coat and tosses it to me. With a determined look on his face, he bends to shove the tire like it’s a car he’s trying to push out of mud.

She screams in the happiest way as she goes dangerously high, the branch shaking hard enough that leaves drift down around us.

“Wilder!” I chide, but I’m laughing too. “Be careful!”

When he winks at me, wings flutter in my belly.

And I wonder if I should take my own advice.

CHAPTER 15

DON’T FUCK IT UP

WILDER

By the time I’m through, I’m sweating my ass off and I’ve nearly broken the swing’s branch, but Cricket is laughing so hard, I figure Paul wouldn’t give a damn about the tree.

When I step away to let the swing run its course, Cricket groans her disapproval.

“Should we head back inside?” Cass asks when I’m close.

God, she’s so pretty. Her face is dewy from the heat, and I can see the freckles on her nose, even though she covered them up with makeup. Her green eyes are so happy, I almost don’t want to answer.

But I shake my head. She doesn’t ask questions in front of Cricket.

“Come on, girly,” Cass says, helping Cricket out of the swing. “We need to head out, but why don’t we go see if there’s some cake inside with your name on it.”

Instantly, Cricket’s smile fades. “I don’t want to go back inside.”

Cass looks to me, then kneels in the grass, taking Cricket’s hands in hers. “I know. I’d love to have you come back with us, but your room’s not quite ready.”

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