Page 4 of Big Pitch Energy

“At your own pace, bring awareness back into your body, open your eyes, and move to a seated position.” I waited until everyone was sitting on their mat facing me. “Bring your hands to heart center and thank yourself for showing up today.” Pressing my palms together, I moved them to my chest, closed my eyes, and dipped my head in a slight bow. “Namaste.”

Their voices came softly in return, a gentle chorus ofnamastethat floated through the room like a breath held and released.

I waited a few heartbeats before looking up at the class.

“Thanks ladies. You were amazing today.”

Ten minutes later, the last of my students offered a soft smile and a wave as they slipped out the door, mats tucked under their arms. Then it was just me, alone in the studio. Silence settled in around me like a blanket, the warm scent of incense lingering in the air.

I slid the curtains open, letting the sunlight spill into the room, casting a golden wash across the honey-toned wood floors. The light warmed the sage-colored walls, giving them a gentle glow. I took a few moments to appreciate the space before heading back to my Reiki room. Liz’s son would be arriving soon, and I needed to prepare.

The moment I stepped inside the small space, my shoulders softened. The yoga studio has my heart, but this room owns my soul.

Sunlight streamed through the stained glass window, bathing the room in a soft, colorful glow. Emerald greens, ruby reds, and sapphire blues mingled together, casting a kaleidoscope of hues across the walls and floor. In the far corner, a small wooden table held a simple circle of healing crystals—amethyst, rose quartz, and clear quartz—their soft glow catching the light and shimmering like a quiet promise. A low, padded Reiki table sat in the center, dressed in fresh linen and a cozy throw.

I reached for the palo santo stick resting in a small ceramic dish on the shelf, its smooth, light wood familiar in my hand. With a quiet breath, I struck a match and held the flame to the end, letting it catch before gently blowing it out, watching as a thin ribbon of smoke began to curl upward.

It trailed behind me like a whisper, and as I walked, the scent filled the space, tracing the air around the Reiki table, past the window, and across the floor. Clearing. Grounding. Inviting in calm and settling in the room like a protective aura.

Closing my eyes, I centered myself, calming my thoughts as I prepared for the session. By the time I heard the front door open, both the room and I were ready.

He’d just closed the door as I walked out into the studio. When he turned around to face me, I immediately noticed two things:

One: His energy was a mess—chaotic, buzzing, and restless. It prickled against mine like static caught in a silk sheet.

Two: He had the most perfect jawline I’d ever seen in my life. Sharp enough to cut glass and break hearts. His pictures definitely don’t do him justice.

He looked around, then zeroed in on me.

“Hope?”

His voice snapped me out of the trance that jawline had lured me into. I blinked and forced myself to stop gawking.

“Uh…yeah. That’s me,” I said. “You must be Sam. Come on in. Shoes off, please.”

After stepping out of his sneakers, he folded his arms across his chest. Liz mentioned she’d had to convince him to come. I mentally shrugged. He’s not the first skeptic to walk through that door, and I’m sure he won’t be the last. Still, I’ll do my best to help him.

“So, how is this supposed to work? You wave your hands over me and I get my fastball back?”

“Not quite. But we’ll see what we can do.” I smiled. “Right this way.”

He followed me back and when we stepped into the Reiki room, I caught the way his shoulders filled the doorframe. The space had never felt small before, but with him in it…broad, tall,and coiled tight like a spring…the room seemed more intimate than serene.

I crossed to the loveseat in the corner and sat, patting the cushion beside me.

“Come sit for a minute.”

He hesitated, then lowered himself onto the opposite end, sinking in slowly like he wasn't sure he trusted the furniture. I turned toward him, keeping my voice gentle.

“Tell me about your injury.”

He gave a quick summary and when he finished, I asked more specific questions. I’d done my homework on ulnar collateral ligament reconstruction, the tendon graft, and the rehab timeline. I asked how long he'd been throwing again, how it felt day to day, and whether he’d noticed any changes in his pitching style since the surgery.

As he spoke, I watched his hands, the way his thumb brushed along the scar near his elbow like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. When he paused, I reached out, asking silently to see, and he offered his arm.

I let my fingertips brush along the inside of his elbow, tracing the faded scar that still stood out against his skin. It had fully healed, smooth in some places and textured in others, but the way he stilled under my touch told me the wound wasn’t just physical. Not entirely.

After a few more questions, I nodded toward the table.

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