Page 43 of Wild Pitch
I cringe. “Yeah.”
“Why’s it not going well?”
“It’s just… too obvious that it’s not me.”
“Because of how your brother reacted?”
“Kinda.” I’m pretty sure guys will see right through whatever dress I wear to my real tomboy self. But I’d rather not get into those details with Dad because I’d have to explain why I’m doing all this in the first place.
“He’s just not used to it.” Dad pats my hand, then adds, “Also, he doesn’t have enough braincells to appreciate your beauty.”
“Facts.” My chuckles fade away as another thought enters my mind, and I dare voice it. “What do you think Mom would’ve thought?”
He’s had a lifetime to get used to being without his soulmate, but even from the beginning, Dad never shied away from talking to us about her, sharing memories, showing us pictures and videos. Mom has never been a stranger to me, even if she never had the chance to get to know me.
Dad doesn’t grow sad or quiet. Instead, he ponders quietly for a moment until he says, “I know she would’ve loved you just the same in sweatpants and dresses.” My heart squeezes and I’m glad he keeps talking, because that way he doesn’t notice thelump that has settled in my throat. “But she was a really girly girl. She talked about how excited she was to dress you up when you got older, you know?”
“I didn’t know that,” I whisper.
“I never said it?” His eyebrows rise, surprised at himself. “Shame on me. But yes, she wanted all girls from the beginning because of this.”
I smirk. “Eduardo will love to learn that.”
We laugh a little at my brother’s expense. As if on cue, he pulls his attention away from the grill to give us a look like he knows exactly what we’re up to.
Dad grabs my hand between his and claps it gently, as if he was making an arepa. “You can be whatever you want, Hope. I’ll also love you just the same, no matter what, and believe it or not so will your brother.”
“I know.” I blink hard, my eyes glued on our hands. “I know.”
And it strikes me right then that maybe the cowboy was right. I’ll still be the same sporty, take-no-nonsense person whether I’m wearing sweats or cute clothes. Maybe I shouldn’t be afraid of that, at least.
CHAPTER 16
CADE
Irelease a caveman sound that offers zero relief. What would make it all better would be something greasy and cheesy with no nutritional value, or for Rob Beau to let me throw a damn cutter in this game.
“Still no,” he says in response to my incoherent noises.
Huffing, I lean back against the wall to keep waiting for the inning to end. Not far off, a couple of staff members are fitting Logan Kim back with his catcher gear. He has seen the whole exchange and said nothing, which means he agrees with our manager and won’t signal for any cutters this game either.
Neither man has ever been a pitcher. They don’t understand what this prohibition does to a pitcher’s mind. Mine is this close to breaking and resorting to begging or extortion. Not sure which one.
Finally the inning ends and I grab my glove. Kim and I jog together out of the dugout, and when he lifts his mitt to cover his mouth, I know he’s about to drop some truth bombs the other team shouldn’t find out about.
“Stop acting like a toddler pitching a tantrum.”
Well, that’s less exciting than I expected.
I cover the bottom half of my face with my glove too. “Look, you and I both know that my fastball and curve aren’t enough to take on the Riders. Otherwise I’d have taken the starter spot from whatshisface years ago.”
“That’s correct but we still don’t want the Riders or whatshisface to know what you’re really made of.”
I stop for a quick second, my lips stretching into a smirk. “What am I really made of?”
Kim knows I’m fishing for a compliment, which is why he responds, “Angus cow manure, straight from the heart of Texas.”
“You couldn’t just drop one measly compliment even if you didn’t mean it? Right before I pitch this inning?” I click my tongue.
