Page 68 of The Run Home
We trudged across the gravel parking lot, having parked in the overflow lot on the opposite side of the campus from the baseball field because Lydia’s stomach had started hurting and she spent fifteen minutes in Tequila Mockingbird’s bathroom blowing the place up. I couldn’t even check on her because I knew my weak stomach still couldn’t handle any crazy smells. I knew her ordering the extra-hot salsa with her empanada was not a smart move, but you couldn’t stop Lydia once she had her heart set on something.
A van with a news station logo on it was parked outside the ticket counter. They’d been here frequently the last few months, all atwitter about the story of a professional baseball player coming back home to coach his local team to a possible state title. I was happy Boon was getting the attention. He put his heart into this team, all while dropping everything to take care of me and the baby when we needed him.
The crowd was already noisy, the teams on the field doing their final warmups before one of the girls from our choir sang the national anthem. The smell of popcorn and hot dogs from our concession stands made me excited for summer to arrive even if it brought temps that would make me a sweaty pregnant mess. Lydia and I stepped into the fenced-off area, searching the stands for our HAGS girls. They were waving like idiots, so we spotted them easily. Lydia didn’t let go of my arm, making sure I got up the bleachers and to the seats they’d saved for us without incident.
“Look at your adorable shirt!” Hattie made me twist so she could see the back. “His name and number??”
“Damn! He’s claimed you, woman,” Fifi said on a cackle.
“I think it’s super sweet,” Rosemary said.
There was a screeching noise, the kind that comes from a microphone turning on. All heads turned to the field where the players were running off to their respective dugouts.
“If I could have your attention, folks!”
I’d recognize Boon’s voice anywhere. It echoed across the field from the large speakers set up all around the fence line. The man himself walked out onto the field to stand on the pitcher’s mound, looking hot as hell in his own blue-and-white uniform that matched his team. I’d never seen him play professionally, and now I regretted never making that happen. Baseball pants were a horny pregnant woman’s dream.
The whole Blueball team ran onto the infield, making a human wall behind Boon, hands clasped in front of them. They reached almost from third base to first.
“What’s going on?” Hattie whispered, echoing the sentiment of many around us. This was not the usual order of things. Announcing the players happened after the national anthem, not before.
“Not sure,” I whispered back, gaze glued to Boon.
“I hate to take up too much of your time when we have an incredible game to enjoy tonight, so I’ll make this quick. An injustice was done twenty-one years ago, and I can’t rest until things are made right.”
His handsome face twisted into that cocky grin I see so often, his outstretched hand sweeping across the stands and stopping right where I was sitting. He pointed directly at me, and I could feel the stares of people around us. My eyes had gone round with alarm and my morning sickness was back with a vengeance. There was a whooshing noise in my ears that almost drownedout the rest of what he was saying, which turned out to be fine, because his players all spun around to give the crowd their backs.
On each of their jerseys was a paper letter pinned to the material. It took me a second, mostly because I was mortified and looking for a hole to crawl into, but they spelled outWill You Go To Prom With Me, Ms. Fletcher?
The crowd collectively sighed as they realized what was going on. My friends elbowed me and Lydia ended up yanking me up to standing, none too gently for a girl who was having digestive issues half an hour ago.
Boon smiled up at me. “It’s a promposal twenty-one years too late, but I hope you can forgive me and agree to go to prom with me this year, Ms. Fletcher. What do you say?”
Tatum ran across the field and up the bleachers, two stairs at a time until he was in front of me, handing me the largest bouquet of flowers I’d ever seen outside of a hotel lobby.
The chant of the crowd picked up while Tatum ran back down the stairs. “Yes, yes, yes!”
I held the flowers while plotting Boon’s death.
Kinsley ran to her father’s side, leaning into the microphone. “Say yes, Ms. Fletcher!”
I huffed out a laugh, able to find the humor and sweetness in the situation despite the absolute mortification of having several hundred eyeballs on me. I handed the flowers to Lydia and cupped my hands over my mouth. The crowd went silent, and for one suspended second, I wondered how this was my life.
“Yes!” I shouted back.
The crowd went wild and Boon handed the microphone to Kinsley, taking the bleacher stairs just as easily as Tatum a few moments ago. Lydia stepped out of the way with one encouraging slap to his back as he approached our row. Boon swept me into his arms, tipped me over and kissed me like noone was watching. My brain went fuzzy and my chest ached with something that made me want to stay in Boon’s arms forever.
After a minute of loud cheers and congratulations, the announcer came back on the microphone and got us back to our normal schedule of pregame songs and player announcements. I sat down the second Boon released me, legs no longer able to hold me. My eyes burned with tears as Boon sat down next to me. I hated that public promposal, but I also freaking loved it. It soothed some teenage wound that I thought didn’t affect me any longer. The tears I was gulping back told me differently.
“Hey,” Boon murmured against my ear. “I know you hate that kind of attention, but I couldn’t let another prom go by without giving you everything you should have had in high school.”
He cupped my cheek and wiped away a tear with his thumb. “I gotta go coach these hoodlums, but promise me you don’t hate me for that stunt.”
I smiled up at him through the stupid tears. “I don’t hate you, not even a little bit.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you quotingTen Things I Hate About You?”
I laughed and he joined in, kissing me quick and then letting go. He held out his fist to Lydia, who fist-bumped him back before he ran down the bleachers to go do his job.
