Page 28 of Big Pitch Energy

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost shy, something I hadn’t seen from him before.

“I had a bullpen earlier, and it went really well.”

“He's being modest,” Ray jumped in. “He was hitting 95 repeatedly, and got up to 96 a few times.”

“Is that where you need to be?” I asked, genuinely curious about where that put him in his comeback journey.

“The goal is to hit 98 or 99 when I want to, but it’s good enough for the moment.”

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face.

“That's amazing, Sam.”

I thought about our session the day before, how his energy had felt different, more centered, flowing without all the blockages I'd sensed before.

Dinner was easy, the kind of effortless evening where laughter and stories bounce around the table without pause. Lizshared tales from her new age shop, the quirky customers, the crystal healing workshops, and the steady buzz of energy that filled her space. I talked about the ups and downs of getting my yoga studio off the ground, the long hours, and the quiet moments that made it all worth it. Ray had us all cracking up with hilarious stories from Sam’s rookie year, the kind of antics only a baseball newbie could get away with, and the moments that made the whole team shake their heads and smile. The night felt warm and full, like a small family finding common ground over good food and shared memories.

After dinner, Sam drove me home, and at my door, I found myself not wanting the evening to end.

“Would you like to come in?” I asked.

“I'd like that,” he said softly.

Inside, I offered him a drink.

“Just water is fine,” he said, following me to the kitchen.

I poured us each a glass and we settled on the couch, closer than we needed to be, and he told me more about the bullpen session. How for the first time since the injury, he felt himself really throwing the ball rather than pushing it.

“That makes sense,” I said. “Your energy is flowing so much better now. The congestion is almost completely gone.”

“If you’d told me that a month ago, I’d have thought you were crazy,” Sam said with a half-smile. “I’m still not sure what to make of all the woo-woo stuff you and my mom are into. But I can’t deny I feel different since our sessions. Like something’s lighter, easier inside me. And I’m definitely throwing better.”

“I get that it can seem a little weird, but the mind and body are connected more deeply than we often realize. Your energy got all out of sync during the injury and surgery. It just needed a little help readjusting to catch up with your body’s healing. That’s why you’re starting to feel lighter and throw better now.”

“However it works, I’ll take it.” He took a drink then leaned forward and set his glass on the coffee table. His eyes held mine for a moment. “Do you have plans for New Year's Eve?”

“I usually just go to the party in the square.” I shrugged. “Nothing special.”

“My catcher Leo is getting married and I was wondering if you'd like to go with me.” Before I could respond, he added, “It’s in Scranton, Pennsylvania, and I’m flying up the day before and coming home the day after.”

The idea of traveling with him, meeting his teammates, and watching one of them get married on a night people usually spend reflecting or celebrating with champagne and countdowns felt oddly intimate. Like a window into a part of his world he didn’t offer just anyone.

Needing to touch him, I ran my hand over his chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.

“I close the studio that whole week, so I’m totally free,” I said. “I'd love to go with you.”

“That’s perfect.”

His gaze held mine as he gently took my hand from his chest and brought it to his lips, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to each of my fingers. I felt every single one deep in my core, like soft sparks that fluttered low in my stomach and spread warmth through my entire body.

He smiled then, slow, tender, and laced with a quiet promise that made my heart skip. Then he leaned in and kissed me.

It started slow, his lips warm and sure, the kind of kiss that made me melt into him. I cupped his jaw, feeling the faint rasp of his beard beneath my fingers as he deepened the kiss, his hand slipping around my waist. We shifted, bodies angling closer, heat growing between us. Every kiss, every touch felt like a promise, like something unfolding.

Our tongues met in a slow, heated rhythm that stirred something deep inside me. The kiss was intense, full of want and unspoken promises. I slid my hands into his hair, feeling the soft strands slip between my fingers as I tugged him closer. He murmured something soft against my lips, his voice low and warm, sending a ripple of anticipation down my spine.

When we ended the kiss, the air between us crackled, charged with everything unspoken. I wasn’t ready to let go. I stood and reached for his hand, lacing my fingers with his, gently tugging him toward the stairs. Each step pulsed with anticipation, my mind already lost in the promise of his touch.

---