Page 74 of His Last Shot
“Ugh!” I dramatically exclaim as I roll my head back. “I don’t want to go back to the bar tonight.” I shimmy closer and snuggle into him, his scent warming me from the inside out.
“Then don’t. Stay here with us. Mallory would have an aneurysm if you stayed.”
Chewing on my bottom lip, I consider his offer. It is Sunday, so Micah and the other bar waitresses could handle it. Suddenly, staying here with this family—people who are slowly burrowing their way into my heart—seems a lot more enjoyable.
“Okay … I’ll stay.”
Johnny’s head recoils. “Really?” I nod in agreement. His fist bumps into the air. “Yes! Best Sunday ever!”
I shoot a text to Micah.
Me: I’m staying.
Micah: I figured. Have fun, sis. Love ya. We can handle this.
Johnny swings my legs off of him and stands in front of me, extending his hand. I glide my palm over his, and he helps me up, then leads me to the door.
“Hey guys! Guess who’s coming to dinner?!” he shouts into the living room as we enter. Mallory’s head whips around. We make eye contact, and the biggest smile I have ever seen stretches across her face. She sprints off of the couch and launches herself into my arms. Simultaneously, four sets of eyes widen upon the contact.
Because of her autism, Mallory doesn’t like touch of any kind. She has what she likes to call a Hug List. A list of people that she gives hugs to. It’s small and elite and only family.
And I think I just made the cut.
22
A Loving Nudge
Johnny & Rachel
Johnny
How is this my life right now?
This thought runs through my head a lot. I have no clue how everything is so unbelievably perfect.
For starters, I’ve fallen in love with the most incredible woman.
Then, in a total plot twist, I’m actually enjoying being in a God-forsaken pool league.
And as an added bonus, I’ve started teaching the game a little on the side.
My family is happy and healthy, business is booming.
Life is freaking fantastic!
And every time I’m with Rachel, my future is always front and center. Visions of babies, changing diapers, school drop-offs, T-ball games, and growing old together play on a constant loop in my head.
Hell, most men my age have grown kids heading off to college. Me? I’m just getting started.
What can I say? I’ve always been a late bloomer.
A goofy grin crosses my lips as I pull into Rachel’s drive. Today, I’m picking her up for our date, and I have something different planned. She won’t be expecting it,andI hope she doesn’t get mad at me.
Also, Rachel is a huge baseball fan, so I was able to snag some tickets for the Pittsburgh/Chicago game next week from Slick. Turns out he has a nephew that works for the team, and he needs some work done at his house. It was time to barter. So in exchange for tickets right behind home plate, I’m going to do an addition on his nephew’s garage. Total win-win.
When Rachel asked what to wear today, I told her to dress casually and to bring her ID. Which she found strange, to say the least.
Before I can get out of the car, she hops out of the house and walks towards my truck, looking radiant as always. It’s a balmy August afternoon, and the breeze picks up slightly, causing her loose, flowing shirt to blow in the breeze. She’s wearing the cutest short shorts that are frayed on the ends. Her hair is falling around her shoulders, catching the sunlight as she strides toward me, being adorable. I notice, however, that her slight limp is back today. Her hips must be bothering her.
