Page 109 of Lucky Shot
On Thursday, Olivia calls for the third time in two days.
“Hi!” I answer, stepping out onto the porch and shielding my eyes from the bright sun. The mid-afternoon heat is sticky and the air is thick.
“Hi? Really? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” My sister shrieks on the other end.
“I’m sorry I haven’t checked in sooner.” A smile tugs at my lips as I take a seat on the rocking chair. “The words are finally flowing, and I didn’t want to stop.”
She’s quiet for a beat.
“Liv?”
“I’m here. Sorry I yelled at you.” She’s so bad at being mean it makes me laugh.
“It’s fine. I need someone to remind me the world is still moving around me. Sorry I didn’t answer. How are you? I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
It feels odd to have gone this long without seeing her. We’ve lived with or near each other for our entire lives.
“Is the writing really flowing or were you just saying that to make me feel bad for yelling at you?” she asks with a laugh.
“It’s really flowing. Finally. I wasn’t sure it ever would again.”
“You’re too talented to retire before your thirtieth birthday.”
“Thanks.” I pull my legs up and hug them to my chest. “How’s the bookstore? How’s my niece?”
“Store is good. We have a new summertime reads table featuring our very own Ruby Madison.”
My sister runs a family bookstore, started by my grandparents, and her passion for creating new book displays is up there with her love of her daughter and husband.
“I’m sure it’s gorgeous.”
“And Greer’s good. She’s why I’m calling. Her softball team made it to the championships.”
“Really?”
“Mhmmm.”
“That’s amazing!”
Since I’ve been gone, Olivia’s kept me up to date with pictures and videos and an occasional chaotic voice message from my favorite little girl. She’s done a variety of activitiesover the years, from dance to tennis to Lego club, but since she started softball, it’s become her obsession.
“I’m so sad I’ve missed all her games this summer.”
“Trust me. There will be plenty more.”
“Still. The championships? That’s…wow.” A pang of longing and homesickness stirs inside me.
“Yeah, she’s really excited. She wanted me to invite you to the game. I know you’re not supposed to be back until the end of the month, but I promised her I’d tell you anyway. She said you would want to know.”
“She is correct. I’m so proud of her. Where’d she get all this athleticism from?”
“Beats me. The game is Saturday evening. Mom is planning to record the entire thing so if you can’t make it, then I’m sure you can catch the replay from her.”
“Tell her I’ll send the team jet to get her if she wants to come,” Flynn yells in the background.
“Is he serious?” I ask, brows lifting at the idea. I mean, is that even a thing?
