Page 21 of Home Sweet Home

“No,” Evie said, with more force than she intended. “I’ve got it.”

West held up his hands in surrender, watching her from the cool shade of the dugout. The table and both chairs took her ten minutes, and by the end, she was sweating. Her arms would definitely be embarrassingly sore when she woke up, but she’d done it. The small balloon of pride that swelled in her popped when she saw West’s amused grin, having witnessed every minute of her struggle.

“Tell Della she needs to replace these.” Evie slammed the folded-up table against the fence then wiped beads of sweat off her forehead with the back of her arm. “Stupid things are rusted shut.”

“But it was the highlight of my day watching you work so hard.”

Evie ignored the comment, sinking onto the bench. As the sweet dugout shade cooled the sweat on her skin, she wondered if she hadn’t accidentally wandered into heaven—until she looked up and saw West sitting there, staring at her. “You wanted to talk about practice?”

“Right.” West clapped his hands against the bench. “I was thinking we could start with a crash course.”

“In what?”

The corner of West’s mouth pulled up. “Baseball.”

They spent an hour going through the rules, an hour that Evie would have rather spent doing literally anything else, but she didn’t exactly have a choice. This was her job now, and she should probably know what she was doing. West walked her through the number of innings, explaining that each had two parts—the bottom and the top. He told her the difference between infield and outfield and where each fielder stood and why. That was how she learned that shortstop, West’s position, was halfway between third and second base.

Since their lesson had started, the sun had disappeared behind the scoreboard, even though it seemed like just ten minutes ago, it had been beating down on them. The exhaustion overwhelmed Evie. She’d spent all morning on her feet at the diner and all afternoon in the scorching sun on the field.

West shifted beside her. “I should have said this when I first saw you. I’m so sorry about your mom. I heard when it happened.”

Evie bit her lip. “It was a long time ago.”

“I wanted to reach out. I should have reached out.” West shook his head. “Truth is, I didn’t know what to say.”

From the pained expression on West’s face, Evie could tell that he meant it, and for a second, she softened, getting a glimpse of the West she used to look at from the passenger seat of his Jeep, wondering how someone so perfect could exist. An urge to reach across the bench and place her hand over his overwhelmed her, and she clasped her hands together to help stymie it.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Really. And I’m sorry about your dad too.”

A shadow crossed West’s face, only for a moment, but long enough to make Evie wonder if she’d said something wrong. Maybe it was his knee again. He didn’t respond, just looked toward the outfield, squinting as if he saw something she couldn’t.

“What do you think?” Evie asked, desperate to return to more light-hearted topics. “Am I ready for the big leagues?”

When West smiled, she knew she’d been successful. “I’d say you’re ready for our first practice.” His gaze wandered past Evie to the corner of the dugout, and she swiveled to see what he was looking at. There was a bat there, leaning up against the wall, and a dusty ball in the dirt. When she looked back at West, there was a gleam in his eye. “You been out on the field since your incident?”

Evie shook her head. “No. And I don’t intend to be.”

“One throw,” West said. “I promise it’ll come at you so slow, you could run around the field and still have time to flinch and miss it by the time you got back.”

“I should get going,” Evie said, peeling herself off the bench, and before West could try to stop her, she started toward the parking lot.

Unfazed, West followed her, grabbing the folded table and chairs under one arm as though they weighed nothing, and when he got to his Jeep, he opened the trunk and tossed them in.

“You still have your Jeep,” Evie said.

“Use her proper name.”

“I’m not calling your car Tweety Bird.”

West grinned. “You just did. And yes. Mom keeps her in the garage. Me and her have been through a lot together.” He tapped the hood. “You know, we could carpool, neighbor. Save gas, the environment. No Luke Bryan or donuts in the Marathon parking lot. Pinky promise.”

Some of the happiest moments of her life had happened in West’s Jeep. One of the worst too.

“See you tomorrow,” Evie said, getting into her car and then she drove away before she could change her mind.

CHAPTEREIGHT

“I knowold people love egg salad,” Kayla said, sinking onto a stool, “but fuck, it makes me want to hurl. All yellow and chunky. And the smell. So… eggy.” She shuddered.

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