Page 44 of Home Sweet Home

Evie thought about reaching over and wiping the smugness clean off Rich’s face like a dirty diner table. “I know what a sponsorship is.”

But she also understood why Rich bothered to leave the comfort of what she assumed was his LA mansion to make multiple trips to rural Indiana. He made money from West. A lot of money.

Evie heard the crowd before she saw it. When she rounded the corner and the field came into view, she could see what West Hawthorne’s presence had done to their humble county summer league. The bleachers were packed, people squished more closely together than looked comfortable. Not one inch didn’t have an ass sitting on it. Lawn chairs dotted the grass around the diamond like confetti.

Are there even this many people in all of Jade County?Evie thought.No way this was a normal turnout. It wasn’t exactly a normal summer league, either. They weren’t there for the boys. They were there for West. As they made their way through the crowd, all eyes were on him, and West waved and smiled like a beauty pageant queen.

“Fuck the league,” a man slurred from his lawn chair, Coors Light in hand, lifting it toward West in a toast.

West nodded. “Thanks, man. Enjoy the game.”

“Try to engage as little as possible,” Rich whispered. “Don’t want anything to be misinterpreted by the press.”

When they got to the dugout, Evie was grateful for the tiny bit of privacy. It didn’t block out the noise, but it was a cocoon, a space just for them. The boys filed in, dumping their equipment on the dirt floor, before claiming spots on the bench and lacing up their cleats.

“Listen up.” West clapped his hands to get their attention. “First game. You’ve all been working hard for the past few weeks. Time to put all that practice into play.”

“A lot of people out there, Coach,” Freddy said.

As Evie looked over their faces, she saw a common thread. Nerves.

“Those people aren’t the game,” West said. “Game is on that field. Last I counted, only nine of you out there. Now get settled, and I want everyone back in five for warm-ups.”

* * *

Bend’spitcher was built like a grown man, six and a half feet tall. He was taller than West, with muscles as thick as tree trunks. Every pitch was like a bullet as it left his glove.

There were moments of brilliance from the Cougars. The effort they’d put in over weeks of practice shined through. Pop flies landed in gloves with easy thuds. Line drives were fielded and just as quickly tossed to first, second, or third base. Each one sent a surprising jolt of adrenaline through Evie.

When she’d agreed to coach the team, she’d expected to spend the summer bored out of her mind, that watching the game would be like watching a single blade of grass sprout up. But the game was more interesting than any of the games she’d seen on TV at Mel’s. She wasn’t sure why it was riveting, whether it was because she understood the rules now, because she’d played a part in the boys getting to this point, or because seeing it up close felt more real. But she was in it, on edge with every play, waiting to see what would happen next.

After the first eight innings, the game was tied, until a pop fly from a Bend batter soared toward left field. Oliver ran as fast as he could, but he missed it by a foot. Then the Cougars were a run behind.

At the top of the ninth, the boys came back into the dugout, and Evie clapped her hand on each of their backs as they filed in. Oliver was last, head hanging low as he shuffled his feet in the dirt.

“Nice hustle, Oliver,” Evie said, picking up a bat and holding it out. “Freddy, you’re up first.”

It was their last chance, and they didn’t just need one run. To win, they needed two. The crowd was thunderous as Freddy took his place at home plate. Evie cupped her hands to her mouth. “Let’s go, Freddy!”

Freddy’s hands were tight around the bat, a fist’s distance apart, his knees bent and loose. She’d seen West coach the boys a hundred times on this very stance, bending to adjust a knee or tilting the bat up or down a few degrees.

At the mound, the pitcher stared at Freddy, unblinking. The first two pitches were perfect, straight down the middle, and Freddy swung too late on both. Those two late swings were all it took to unravel him. He paced away from home plate, his bat swinging wildly at his side, shaking his head at no one and nothing in particular.

“Hey now,” West called out from his spot at third base, jogging up to Freddy. He whispered something, and Freddy nodded, his chest swelling as he inhaled. He stepped back up to his place at home plate, his gaze steely and focused on the pitcher, new determination there.

When the pitcher loosed the ball, it whizzed through the air and was followed by the sound of metal connecting with leather. Freddy’s bat skittered across the dirt, coming to a stop when it slapped against the fence. The outfielder’s legs pumped fast as he ran after the ball, but by the time he scooped it up and threw it infield, Freddy was already on second base.

The crowd picked up at the action. Whistles and hoots cut through the applause. Freddy ate it up, hands on his hips and a cocky smile on his face as he squinted in the bright afternoon sun.

Any momentum that had built up faded with the next two Cougars batters, who both struck out after only hitting one foul ball between them. And just like that, the Cougars had two outs, with only Freddy on base.

“You’re up, Oliver,” Evie said.

He sat on the bench like his butt was glued there and didn’t move until one of the boys pushed him to his feet. When he grabbed the bat from Evie, she caught his gaze. “Hey. Remember Korai.”

Oliver nodded and started toward home plate, slow and stiff like he was sleepwalking. When he saw the gigantic man on the pitcher’s mound, Oliver’s eyes went wide, darting around like he wasn’t sure what to do. It was a lot of pressure, from the team and from the crowd. Whether or not they won or lost the game was now on Oliver, and she could tell by how he was carrying himself that he felt the weight.

A voice cut through the crowd. “Bend your knees.”

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