Page 18 of Big Pitch Energy

“I was just talking to Ray. He’s coming here next week and wants to take us out to dinner.”

Mom smiled softly when I mentioned Ray. There was a flicker in her eyes, but she covered it right away.

“That sounds nice.” She glanced away for a second, then looked back at me. “You’re in a better mood than usual.”

“Am I?”

“You’ve been in a better mood since Friday.”

I gave a small laugh and rubbed the back of my neck.

“Yeah, I guess I have. My arm felt solid on Friday, really solid. I had an awesome bullpen and for the first time in months feel optimistic.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” she asked with a raised brow.

“I think so.”

“I heard you were at The Starlight Tavern with Hope Friday night.”

“Of course you did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was more focused on telling you about my improved velocity than dinner,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Mmm Hmm.”

“Ava bailed on Hope,” I said. “I was already heading to The Tavern, so I invited her along. We ate dinner. I walked her to her car. I went home.”

What I didn't tell her was how Hope had stood on tiptoe when we kissed, or how that brief contact had sent electricity through me that had nothing to do with energy healing, or how I've replayed that moment in my mind at least a hundred times since Friday. Some things you keep to yourself, especially from mothers with uncanny intuition.

“There's a lightness around you.” She gestured vaguely around my head. “A brightness I haven't seen since before the surgery.”

“Must be the Reiki.”

“Don’t laugh. It helped you when nothing else could.”

“I’m not laughing,” I said.

“Finally he understands,” she said, raising her hands to the ceiling. As she lowered them, she pointed next door. “You better get going. It’s almost time for your next session.”

I stepped out of Mom’s shop, the bell above the door chiming softly behind me, and took the few steps across the sidewalk to Hope’s studio. A fresh Christmas wreath hung on the door with pine, cinnamon sticks, and a red plaid bow. Something that definitely hadn’t been there on Friday.

Hope’s studio smelled different than my mom’s store. Brighter, cleaner, like eucalyptus and citrus. I toed off my shoes and glanced around. Since Friday, Christmas has crept in here too. Evergreens twined with fairy lights along the windows and a small tree sat on the front table adorned with wooden ornaments shaped like suns, moons, and stars. It’s subtle and cozy, like the holidays tiptoed in instead of bursting through the door.

Hope emerged from the back in a soft gray sweater and leggings, her long blonde hair in its usual braid.

“I’m ready for you,” she said, the faintest blush rising in her cheeks as the words hung between us.

My brain immediately supplied a juvenile response, and for once, I kept it to myself.

“Mature,” I muttered under my breath, following her toward the back room.

The lights were low, the table waiting. I settled onto it and Hope’s voice guided me into slow, deep breaths. My body relaxed under her hands, but my brain didn’t get the memo.

It was only a week ago I’d walked in here convinced Reiki was a waste of time. Then I agreed to a second session, because I was trying to figure out what the hell happened at the first. But today I just wanted to see Hope.

Her hands hovered over me, not touching but close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from her palms.

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