Page 13 of Pitcher

I chuckle, snagging the keys from his hand.

“Remember, throw first-pitch strikes. You do better in the count when you throw a strike first.”

He nods seriously.

“Hurry. Get out of here!”

Like he just remembered we’re running behind, his eyes go wide, and he scrambles out of the car, yelling over his shoulder, “Sit where I can see you!”

Have mercy. This man….

Efficiently, I have my water and fold-up chair tucked underneath my arm. I need a free hand to lock Theo’s old-ass car that has no key fob. When I get everything situated, finally, I jog up to the field, already sweating.

I don’t bother with the bleachers and take my spot behind the fence, right behind home base where Theo can see me.

“Ms. McCallister.” Frank, the umpire for tonight, nods at me with a stern look, also taking his spot behind the catcher.

I grin, unable to promise that I won’t call him names or argue with his calls tonight. We both know how this goes down.

“Anniston!”

I turn at the familiar voice. A replica of Theo, Thad stands behind me with a big, stupid grin on his face. His hands are full with a tray of food and drinks.

“I have nachos.” He waggles his brows, and it makes me laugh.

Grinning—and really excited for my nachos—I glance back at the mound, spotting Theo warming up. His gaze is fixed on me and Thad.

I wave awkwardly.

“Focus, Teddy!” I yell, not giving a fuck about using the nickname he hates so badly.

His cheek twitches, and very slowly, his stare tears away from the two of us.

“Watch my slider,” he yells back from the mound, digging a hole by the plate using his cleat. “I keep missing the corner.”

I nod, knowing he needs my help, and look back at Thad with a sad smile. “Start without me. I’ll come when the inning is over.”

Thad flashes me an understanding smile and nods, already heading into the stands.

I turn back to Theo.

“Okay, Von Bremen, paint me a corner.”

A triumphant grin emerges, and it makes me smile.

“Come on, Frank! The tailgaters in the parking lot could see that was a strike!”

Frank ignores me for the two hundredth time this inning. Seriously, his eyesight is getting bad. Someone has to tell him.

I give Theo, who looks about ready to explode, our sign for a curve ball. I don’t care what Brody, his catcher for today, is calling. Theo needs to get this guy to reach for the ball by throwing it closer to his hands. Theo’s been pitching him down and outside, trying to get him to chase, but he’s been smart. A curve ball will work.

Finally, Theo nods and goes into his wind up. I’m clenched, probably more anxious than Coach Anderson since Theo will lose his no-hitter if this guy hits the ball. Or worse, walks.

The crowd hushes, waiting on the pitch, when I hear a whispered voice in my ear.

“I polished off all the nachos. I rate them a 3.5 on our nacho scale.”

Fuck.

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