Page 78 of The One for Me
I need to make this make sense. “I spent the last ten years listening to how my rash decisions caused the downfall of my life. I fear that this could be one of those again. We don’t have to rush into a decision right now.”
“No, but . . .”
I lift my hand. “All I’m asking is to spend the next nine weeks living together and figuring our life out. Then, three weeks before it’s time, we’ll announce our decision together. I’d rather us keep this to ourselves for a while. If nothing changes, then no one gets hurt.”
Sean leans back, pulling me with him so I’m resting on his chest. “All right. We won’t make anything official until then, but we’re going to plan it. We’re going to discuss how things will be when you come with me. Which really means, no matter what happens, I can’t live without you. Okay?”
I smile and cuddle in closer. “I can live with that.”
“Good, because I can’t live without you. So, focus on my wonderful qualities and forgive my weaknesses.”
I laugh and look up into those beautiful green eyes. “I’ll try.”
“Good, now try not to kiss me.”
There’s not a chance in that.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sean
“All right, Austin, I want you to shift your weight back and forth and be ready to pop up at any moment.”
He nods quickly and then drops into position. “I’m ready.”
“When I throw this ball, I want you to pop up and throw down to second. The tag needs to be low and accurate.”
When his brown eyes lock on to mine, there’s nothing but determination in them. “I got it.”
I turn to the runner, give him a nod to indicate he’s to take off as soon as the ball leaves my hand, and then check on the shortstop.
Everyone is ready.
I lift my leg and let the pitch go.
Austin is fast as he grabs the ball, which I threw wide on purpose, and when he lobs it toward second, it flies from his hand like a bullet. It ends up a little too low, and the runner is safe.
“I don’t know what happened!” he yells. “I threw it just like you said to.”
Poor kid. “It’s fine. We’ll do it until it works. I know throwing this way is new, we just need your muscle memory to kick in.”
I hate the way he looks away, but then I hear the breath leave his nose and he gets back into a squat. This is the attitude I had as a kid. I would work and work until I couldn’t take much more. My legs would be sore and my arm would be on fire, but I wouldn’t care.
“Do you know that, when I was your age, I would sit like that to read or even eat dinner?”
Austin grins. “I do too! Mom yells at me to sit at the table, but I know that I need to be ready on the balls of my feet.”
“It’s a catcher’s life. It also leads to bad knees and sore joints. Do you make sure to ice and rub them down?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t always remember.”
“Make sure you do, I know it’s stupid and you’re young so you think it’s no big deal, but when you get to be my age, it sucks.”
I’m one of the younger catchers in the league, and I don’t know how the hell I’ll feel in ten years. I do a lot of massage, ice therapy, scraping, cupping—hell, anything they can try to give me relief. After the first year in the major league, I remember there was one day after a double header that I could barely stand the next day.
It’s tough on our bodies, and if I were smarter when I was a kid, maybe it wouldn’t be so hard now.
“So, ice my knees?”
