Page 45 of My Three Hometown Firefighters
I lock eyes with our catcher, making sure he’s ready. When he gives me a nod, I let the pitch fly. My eyes are closed, but thewhooshof the bat and thesmackof the ball against leather tells me all I need to know.
One down. Two to go.
With the ball back in my hands, I glance over at the stands. I wish Sienna was here tonight.
She was at our last game, and even though nothing had started with her back then, having her here was awesome. Her presence made doing something that I already enjoy even more invigorating.
My eyes catch on where Hadley and Evelyn are sitting in the bleachers with no Sienna beside them this time.
I dial in on striking Will out quickly. I want to walk off this field victorious. Then I can get back to my phone in the dugout and text Sienna.
My next pitch is right down the middle and is called a strike. Will looks like he wants to murder me, which just makes my smile grow wider.
I’m not so lucky on the next one, though. Will connects, and the ball’s sailing far into center field.
I spin, watching Conrad sprint toward the fence. At the last second, he leaps up, snatching the ball out of the air.
Holy shit. He actually caught it.
The next few minutes are a whirl of frenzied excitement as we celebrate. Will’s team congratulates us, despite the frowns on most of their faces. Miles gives me a cheeky grin when he shakes my hand.
“Enjoy it for this year,” he says.
“Oh, believe me, I will. You wouldn’t let us live it down last year, so buckle up, bud,” I tell him.
He rolls his eyes as he walks away with his brothers and Lyla, who’s arguing with Will about something.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Conrad lifting Hadley into his arms and saying something about her pussy being theirgood-luck charm. Luckily, none of the kids on the field are within earshot.
Ducking into the dugout, I grab my phone out of my duffle. I shoot off a quick text to Sienna, then throw the hoodie in my bag.
>> We won! What are you up to, hot stuff?
With my phone in hand, I make my way over to where Warren is lying in the grassy outfield with Jackson sprawled out beside him. I plop down on Jackson’s other side.
“What are you guys doing?” I ask.
“Stars,” Jackson says, pointing up the quickly darkening sky where the stars are slowly starting to peek out.
“Ooh… I like this game,” I say, wiggling around a little to get comfortable.
The three of us lay there in silence for several minutes. “Warren,” I say quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Have you talked to Sienna today?”
“No. Why?”
How do I explain that I just have a gut feeling something is wrong?
“I just haven’t heard from her, and she usually texts back pretty quickly. I don’t know. I’m probably just being crazy.”
As if she could sense me talking about her, my phone rings with her name plastered across the screen.
“Hello,” I say, but all I hear in return is a bunch of garbled noises and whimpering. I sit up. “Sienna, are you okay? What’s going on?”
Warren sits up, staring right at me.
