Page 50 of Home Sweet Home

The field was completely dark, with nothing but the stars in the sky for light. The Cougars sign was a black rectangle. It was eerie being out there like this, so different from their afternoon practices, with no one around and no sounds except the cicadas. She also felt a bit of that magic from when they used to drive to school together, the wondering and not knowing what would happen next.

“Take a seat.” West gestured toward the dugout, and she did, while he disappeared.

A few seconds later, the lights crackled on, illuminating the field, and they were so bright, her eyes hurt. She blinked three times, and after the last blink, when her eyelids snapped open, West was walking toward her, a ball in one hand, a bat swinging in the other.

“No.” Evie shook her head, pressing her back hard against the wall of the dugout. “Absolutely not.”

West raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna hit one.”

“Nope. But I’ll happily sit behind the fence and watch you hit one.” She batted her eyelashes, hoping it would distract him from his plan.

“We’re facing our fears today, Peach.” He shook his head and offered her the bat. “Can’t do that behind the fence.”

He stared at her, and she stared right back, arms over her chest as if to emphasize the point that she wasn’t going to budge. As kids, she and Josh had staring contests for everything, from deciding who had to clean the dishes, to who got to pick the movie for movie night, to who got to shower first before school. Through practice, Evie learned the path to victory was to want it so badly that losing hurt worse than not blinking.

But West wasn’t blinking either. His brown eyes were wide open, fixed on hers, his stare unnerving. He stood there, arm outstretched, bat in hand.Shouldn’t his muscles be shaking after how long he’s held it?

“Fine.” She snatched the bat from him with a sigh.

West pointed toward home plate as he walked halfway to the pitcher’s mound. “Show me your grip.”

Evie stepped up to the plate and started to get into the stance, but then she turned to face West. “This is ridiculous.”

“Just do it.”

With a sigh, she returned to the plate, setting her feet shoulder distance apart, her hands on the base of the bat, right over left, a fist of space between them, bending her knees, just enough so they had some bounce in them. She’d seen the boys do it enough times, she wasn’t surprised it had sunk in. “Satisfied?”

West tilted his head to the side, looking her over like a painting he was trying to glean meaning from. After a few seconds, he walked toward her.

“What are you—”

But he was already behind her. “You’re not bending your knees enough.” His words blanketed her neck, making the hairs on her arms stand at attention like tiny, fragile soldiers waiting for orders. “And your grip. It’s too loose.”

He wrapped his hands over hers and tightened his fingers. Until now, she hadn’t realized how small she was compared to him. He said something, but it was like there was a bee buzzing around in her ears, blocking out every noise.

“What?”

His voice was softer than before, and she felt the slightest pressure on the soft inner curve of her right knee, his calloused fingers grazing the bare skin there. Had anyone in her life ever touched her like that? It was a miracle she didn’t crumple into a heap. “Knees.”

She complied, bending her shaking knees. The shaking wasn’t contained to her legs. Her whole body was shivering, like she was cold even though it was well over eighty degrees, even after sundown. She wondered if he could feel the tremors of her hands shaking under his, but they were snug beneath his grip.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take one more second, he swung—they swung. The bat sliced through the air like a knife through hot butter, and she knew she’d been doing it all wrong when he showed her how.

When he stepped away, she wondered if this was what it was like to lose a limb. Her hands alone were too exposed. Her body was cold without the heat of him to warm her up. She harnessed every ounce of willpower left not to beg him to come back, but he already stood at the mound, ball in bare hand. “Got it?”

She let go of the breath she’d been holding and nodded, training her eye on his hands.

The pitch came slowly, just like he’d promised, and this time, she didn’t close her eyes. When she swung, her bat struck the ball with enough force to vibrate her bones.

Where did it go?Her eyes darted around the field, and she saw the ball skitter off somewhere between second and third base.

She’d hit the ball. She’d really hit it. She was stunned.

West took off like a bolt of lightning. “Better run, Peach.”

She threw the bat and ran to first, her arms pumping, her legs going as fast as she could, but it was nothing compared to him. He was faster and stronger, so much so it was laughable, and by the time she was halfway to second, her lungs were on fire, her legs screaming for a break. He was already standing at the base, ball in hand, a smug grin on his face. The bastard wasn’t even panting, like he’d just finished a leisurely walk.

When he tagged her out, he pulled her close to him and put a hand on each side of her face, his palms warm on her skin. He gently tilted it from right to left.

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