Page 20 of Rain Delay

He cupped my cheeks and slowly stroked with his thumbs.

“I’m pretty sure I’d do anything for you.”

He leaned forward and kissed me, just a soft kiss that seemed to seal his words.

“This is insane,” I said when he pulled back.

“I’m aware, but for some reason it seems to make sense.”

“What about our parents?”

“If we’ve dealt with them dating, they can do the same for us, right?”

“I guess so.”

A million things ran through my head, reasons why I should just let whatever this is between us end when the storm does, but I don’t listen to any of them. Instead, I nodded.

“Yes?” he asked, flashing one of his mega-watt smiles.

“Yes.”

“Yes, yes?”

“Is there another kind?”

His mouth crushed against mine and as our breath mingled and our tongues tangled, I knew I’d made the right decision.

Epilogue

Rusty

The umpire shouted “play ball”and the batter stepped into the box. I stood on the mound, and looked to my catcher, Leo Marakis, as he flashed the sign for a fastball, waist high, inside corner. I nodded, then placed my foot against the rubber and stared down the batter confident I can place the ball exactly where Leo wants it.

Ever since I got back from Marathon, my pitching has been back to normal, if not better. My mom thinks it’s because of Ivy and I don’t totally disagree. We’ve been together for two months now and I’ve never felt happier or more settled in my life. Both of our parents were thrilled when we told them about our relationship, so that was one worry out of the way.

Going into my wind up, I reached my arm back then brought it over the top and followed through, my feet ending at the edge of the grass. I watched the ball sail right into Leo’s waiting mitt. He didn’t have to move an inch.

Strike one.

Next was a curveball inside that the batter nearly screwed himself into the ground trying to hit.

Strike two.

Leo called for a fastball, low on the outside corner. It will be a strike but will look outside to the batter since the first two pitches were inside.

Called strike three.

The crowd jumped to its feet at that first out and did the same for the next two—a ground ball to first base and a broken-bat line drive right back to me.

Ivy caught my eye as I jogged off the field. I stopped in front of the dugout and smiled up at her. The half of the stadium that can see me probably thinks I’m insane, but I don’t care. Ivy is here and not only that, she’s wearing a Waves jersey with my number on it.

The little minx told me she couldn’t get away this weekend. She’s been staying at the house in Marathon and finishing her degree in graphic arts. It seems Ivy has gotten both of her parents’ talents and she can create some amazing art on the computer. She’s been designing logos and website graphics pro bono for nonprofits for years and really enjoys it. I have no idea why she never considered it as a career before.

Despite my crazy schedule, we’ve managed to see each other pretty often since she’s on the East Coast. She and Finn even stayed at my place for a week during a home stretch. But when I asked her about coming up this weekend for the start of the playoffs, she said she had too much school work to do. I was disappointed, but totally understood.

But Ivy must have plotted with Hannah Reagan, who works for the Waves PR Department, in order to surprise me, since they’re sitting next to each other in the friends and family section. Hannah’s husband, Jack stepped out of the dugout and followed my gaze into the stands, mirroring my sappy smile when he spotted his wife.

The bottom of the inning was about to start and he slapped me on the shoulder before heading to the on-deck circle.

“Don’t fight it,” he said as he walked away.

“I don’t intend to.”

I glanced up at Ivy and flashed her another smile before heading into the dugout.

The End

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