Page 46 of Shielding His Heart
But I don’t notice any of it because I finally spot Alec. And it’s like my body knows. My heart knows. I simply come to life at the mere sight of him. A fireworks show grand enough for the Fourth of July takes place in my stomach, zinging across my nerve endings and causing my heart to pound wildly in my chest and ears.
He’s standing behind two chairs with his arms crossed over his chest as he studies the field. Paisley and Tracy are in front of him on the edge of their seats. All three of them have DORRAN and the number seven on the backs of their matching purple jerseys. It hits me like a foul ball to the head. I want this. I want to be a part of their team. I want the Meatball Mondays, the sick days, the late-night emergency calls, the stolen moments in the kitchen, and the chaotic birthdays. I want it with this man, and I want it with these girls.
But the question is: do they still want it with me?
CHAPTER23
ALEC
“She’s gonna choke,” Paisley says around a sip of soda. “She always chokes.”
“You mind your mouth now, Paisley Grace,” Mom admonishes. “This is your sister’s first year playing. We’re here to support her.”
“Support her when she chokes,” Paisley says under her breath.
I put a hand on her shoulder, and her mouth snaps closed. I don’t think Paisley will ever totally heal from Tana’s accident—it’s written in the fabric of her life now, part of her story. But I do know I’ll be there with her every step of the way to make sure she knows she’s not alone—that she’ll never be alone.
“There she is,” Mom says and sits up straighter in her chair. “Let’s go, number seven! Knock it outta the park!”
This time, Paisley keeps her mouth shut. Progress.
“Alright, Gem!” I shout over the din of cheers, coaches, and chants from her team. “Keep your eye on the ball. If it’s there, you hit it hard. You got this!”
She looks so small out there with the other girls. I want to run and put my arms around her, protect her and maybe hide her away so she won’t ever face the possibility of messing up. But she’d probably hit me with the bat, so I hold my ground and my breath as the pitcher winds up. The first pitch comes in wild—a ball. I let out a breath. Goddamn, this has to be more stressful for me than it is for her.
The chants from the dugout increase in volume as the next pitch comes in—a strike. I suck in a breath and shout, “That’s alright, honey. Next one is yours.”
“Let’s go, Gemma!” Mom shouts.
Paisley is sitting forward in her seat, her eyes unwavering from where her sister is crouched over home plate. When it comes down to it, Paisley would step in front of a bus for her sister—or in this case, a softball.
The next two pitches are wild again, and then she swings at one that’s too low and misses. Full count. I really wish they let people drink at these things. It would help my damn nerves. I don’t know what’s worse—watching your kid potentially fail or facing that potential yourself. I haven’t heard from Tana yet. I hope she’s still coming.
“Full count,” yells the umpire.
“You got it, Gem. Come on, girl!” I yell.
Gemma takes a steadying breath at the plate looking all too vulnerable. My shoulders are somewhere around my ears by the time the pitcher releases the ball. Gemma swings and connects, the ball driving toward shortstop. She stares uncomprehendingly until Paisley shouts, “GO! RUN Gemma, run!” Then she’s off like a shot toward first. Shortstop misses the ball, but it’s scooped up by left field, who chucks it at second to cut Gemma off. But it doesn’t matter. Our girl is safe at first.
“Woooo! Yay, Gemma! You go, girl! Great job!”
The feminine shout has me spinning to my left, and I find Tana with her hands cupped around her mouth, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her hair is up in a sloppy bun, she’s covered in cat hair, and she doesn’t have a lick of makeup on. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look more beautiful.
“You came,” I choke out. I guess a part of me hadn’t been sure she would.
“She really got that one good,” Tana says. “Wow, that’s incredible.”
I unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “Yeah, uh, my captain Zeke’s been practicing with her a little. He played pro ball a long time ago.”
Paisley turns to say something to me and notices Tana. Her mouth falls open, and her eyes bug out. Tana freezes, probably afraid Paisley may have another outburst like the one at her party. But then Paisley is jumping to her feet, her chair falling over, and throwing herself bodily into Tana’s arms. Tana gives a hiccuping cry of surprised delight, and her arms go around Paisley’s shoulders. Beside them, Penny is jumping gleefully.
“I’m so sorry!” Paisley wails. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t want you to go again. I’ve missed you so much. I promise I’ll do better. Just please come home.”
Tana’s shocked gaze meets mine. I smile gently at her and lift a shoulder. Such is the life surrounded by women. It’s a chaotic tornado of emotional outbursts. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You don’t have to do anything better,” Tana says gently and kneels in front of Paisley. “You didn’t do anything wrong—aside from not telling anyone where you were going. You should always let someone know where you’ll be because you about gave your father and me a heart attack. And if he has a heart attack, we’re in big trouble because I’m not the one who can bring people back to life.”
“I promise it won’t happen again,” Paisley says tearfully.
