Page 117 of Home Field Advantage
He turns his body to face me. “Of course, Dallas. Whateveryou need. I’m still offended, but you know I’m your guy no matter what.”
“You think you can coach these kids on your own when the season starts if I go back to San Francisco?”
“If?”
Car tires crunching on the gravel pull our attention to the makeshift parking lot. A grin spreads on my lips—I can’t help it because Poppy emerges from her car.
I turn back to face Tucker, who looks confused. “If.”
He still seems unsure until he looks from Poppy and back to me. “Ohhhh. If!” He bounces where he stands like a child who can’t contain their excitement. “Tell me something’s happening between you two. Oh my god, please tell me. I can be related to you. This is amazing news.”
“Shh. Can you chill out? I didn’t say anything was happening.”
“You saidif, Dallas. Meaning you’re not sure you want to go back. No one stays in Bluestone Lakes when you have the life you have back in the city for no reason. Poppy girl is your reason.”
Among other things, Tucker is right.
She’s a big reason.
When you feel a connection this strong with someone, you chase it. I’ve had relationships. I’ve been married. I’ve done casual. And nothing has ever compared to this.
She lights up every part of me.
She forces me to slow down when I want to jump.
She’s soft and steady.
She’s…everything.
Turning around, I see her making her way to where Tucker and I stand. She has her hands tucked into the back pocket of her skin tight jeans with a solid pink long sleeve T-shirt tucked in.
“Nan told me this place got cleaned up. I had to come see it for myself right away.”
That one sentence does something to me I didn’t expect.
It’s six at night, in the middle of the week, and Poppy dropped everything to come here and see this. My heart skips a few beats the longer I stare at her with only that thought in mind.
I open my mouth to say something, even though I don’t even know how to respond, but Sage beats me to it. “Poppy! You’re here!”
Poppy turns, opening her arms and letting Sage jump into them. My daughter is full of dirt and sweat, and Poppy is wrapping her arms tightly around my little girl anyway.
She looks so good with my kid.
“I wanted to come see the new field.” They both release their hold, and Poppy stands. “This place looks amazing! I can’t believe it looks like a real field.”
Sage giggles. “Do you know what a real field looks like now?”
“I do,” she answers Sage, then looks at me. “I’ve been doing some research, so I know what you and your dad are talking about.”
I feel like I can’t breathe.
She’s admitting to taking the time to learn the one thing that has been a part of my life since I could walk. The thing that has brought me joy for my entire life before Sage was born.
Poppy not only feels like a grand slam in the bottom of the ninth, but she feels like I was given extra innings—one more chance to try and open up my heart to the possibilities for me.
No more strikeouts, only home runs.
Poppy Barlow is my home run. There’s no doubt about it.
