Page 88 of Unexpected Forever
A growling sound breaks the silence around us. We look at each other and laugh.
“I think Nugget’s hungry,” she says. “We haven’t eaten in a while.”
“If the kid’s hungry, let’s eat.”
Charley thought of everything, which shouldn’t surprise me given her profession. The basket is big, but how she managed to get food, bottles of water, utensils, plates, the cake she baked, and a blanket in there is beyond me.
After we eat, we lie on the blanket staring at the dark sky lit up by the field lights. It’s hard to make out all the stars, but I still see more than I’ve seen in years.
She rolls over onto her side and lifts up on her elbow. Her dark ponytail falls over her shoulder, and even under the bright lights, she enchants me.
“Why baseball?”
“You mean why did I play baseball?”
“Yeah. I mean you’re a big guy with a helluva arm. I could see you being a quarterback.”
“Well, I’ve always liked that baseball is a mental game. I also like not getting hit by guys as big as Mack trucks.”
I think back to the day my life trajectory changed. “But I didn’t choose baseball so much as it chose me.”
She tilts her head. “How so?”
I sigh and stack my hands behind my head, hesitating to walk down memory lane. But no one has ever asked me that question before.
“The year before my parents died, I started getting into trouble at school. Stupid shit, but enough to get me detention almost daily.”
I swallow back the dread building in my throat when I think of the beatings I took when I came home with the disciplinary report. I don’t want to taint Charley’s goodness with that kind of shit.
“One day I came home with a bad report and my parents were so high, they just told me to get out of their sight. So, I took Megan and we went to the park. Some friends of mine were there for baseball practice, and I started tossing the ball with them, hitting some balls.”
I turn on my side and mirror her pose, but I still can’t look at her. I run a finger along a thread line of the blanket, my mind back on that ballfield in Nashville.
“We started going to the park every day, and I’d play with my friends until their official practice would start with their teams. Then one afternoon, my buddy’s coach took notice of how well I hit the ball. I told him my parents wouldn’t pay for me to play, but he somehow found a way and brought me onto the team. The rest is history.”
I finally look up and find her eyes are intent on mine. Then she sits up and picks up her water bottle. “What was his name? Your coach?”
“Coach Hayes.”
She lifts her bottle. “Let’s toast.”
I smile and lift my bottle to hers.
“To Coach Hayes,” she says, her blue eyes bright. “For seeing potential in a boy who became a legendary man. On and off the field.” She smiles. “Happy birthday, Nate.”
“Thank you, Charlotte.”
Her eyes hold mine as I tap my bottle to hers. I’m calm and cool on the outside.
But inside, my heart hammers and I’m hyperaware of her nearness. Her smile drives me wild, and I want nothing more than to get her underneath me.
Bury myself in her until I don’t know where I end and she begins. Hear her cry out my name when she comes on my lips.
But I hold up my end of the bargain, even though at this point, I’m pretty sure I’m going to have permanent blue balls.
I roll to my feet and hold out a hand to help her up. “Now, let’s eat some cake then fire up the pitching machine.”
NINETEEN
