Page 14 of Big Pitch Energy

I pulled on a pair of jeans and a simple navy Henley, then headed downstairs. With Mom in Wilmington having dinner with friends, I had the house to myself. But I was still buzzing with too much energy from the bullpen session to just sit around. A walk into town sounded like a good way to burn it off and grab a bite while I was at it. Two birds, one stone.

The Starlight Tavern wasn’t anything special, just your typical small-town bar with decent food and a steady rotation of familiar faces. The idea of grabbing a bite, sipping a cold beer, and catching up with my old high school teammate Denny Myers—who’d been bartending there since we graduated—actually sounded pretty good.

As I headed out the door, I made an impulsive decision. The yoga studio was on the way. Hope had specifically asked me to let her know if I noticed any changes. This definitely qualified.

A flicker of anticipation kicked up as I headed down the porch steps. It wasn’t just about my arm, though that miraclealone would’ve been reason enough to stop by. There was something else pulling me toward Hope’s studio. Specifically, the way she looked at me, like she saw parts I didn’t usually let anyone see.

Hope

I scanned my list again, double-checking the essential oils I should have reordered days ago. They’re a regular part of the restorative yoga classes I hold twice a month, and I always rotate scents with the seasons. But somehow, winter snuck up while I wasn’t looking.

A knock on my office door broke into my thoughts.

I looked up as Ava peeked her head inside.

“You have a visitor.”

Something in her sing-song tone made me pause, check myself, and smooth my hair before following her out of the office.

My heart did an annoying little skip when I spotted Sam just inside the studio, chatting with Jeannie Evans and Mary Wallace. Both women laughed at something he said, and I couldn’t help noticing how easy he looked there, like he belonged. But I guess he does. He was born and raised in Starlight Shores, after all.

As the ladies talked, Sam glanced up and looked straight at me. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and the faintest smile tugged at his mouth, just enough to make my stomach do a ridiculous flip. I managed to smile back, but my pulse had already kicked into a rhythm I wasn’t proud of.

Professional. I need to be professional.

After chatting for a few more minutes, Jeannie and Mary said their goodbyes and slipped out. Ava turned to me with an apologetic smile.

“Can I take a rain check on dinner? I’ve got a headache.”

“Of course,” I said. “Feel better.”

Ava nodded and walked to the other side of the studio to grab her tote bag. She gave me a quick hug on her way back and whispered, “Have fun,” so quietly I almost thought I imagined it. Before I could even process her words, she said goodbye to Sam and slipped out the door.

He turned to me with that same quiet smile still playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“It’s better than okay. That’s why I’m here.” He let out a low laugh, almost disbelieving, and shook his head. “I did a bullpen and my fastball was consistently in the high 80s, even broke into the 90s a few times.”

“Oh Sam, that's incredible! Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” He continued, eyes bright. “Something felt different today when I was pitching,” he said slowly. “Not different, really. It actually felt like it used to, before I blew out my elbow.”

I thought back to our session, how his energy had shifted beneath my hands, the subtle way it began to move more freely. Some of the congestion I’d felt the first time, that heavy resistance, had started to clear, like something deep inside him was finally ready to let go.

“I’m sure your mom is thrilled. She’s been so worried about you.”

“She doesn’t know yet.”

“Why not?”

“She’s having dinner with friends in Wilmington. I figured I’d fill her in when she gets home.” His gaze shifted to the floorbefore meeting mine again. “Ava mentioned you two had dinner plans. I was on my way to The Tavern. Would you like to join me?”

I hesitated, thrown off for a second. Mixing business with…whatever this was probably wasn’t the smartest move. But hey, I had to eat. I shrugged to myself. Why not?

“Sure.”

Which is how I found myself sitting across from Sam Cherry in a booth at The Starlight Tavern, nursing a pint of Blue Moon while he told me exactly what it felt like when his ulnar collateral ligament tore.

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