Page 108 of West Bound

I rip off my clothes and crawl onto the bed until my body blankets hers. “We’re going to try something a little different today. Okay?”

She nods and whispers, “okay.”

I raise her hands above her head and lace our fingers together. Staring into her eyes I maneuver myself to fit between her legs, and she wraps them around my waist. I roll my hips and she wiggles hers until the head of my cock sits perfectly at her entrance. I thrust forward until I’m fully seated inside of her and the hitch in her breath has me losing mine.

But I don’t rush or fuck her raw like I would after so much time apart. Instead, I make love to her slow and deep. Never once do I look away. I barely blink. And when she falls apart with my name on her tongue, I watch as tears fall from the corners of her eyes. The emotion that spilled from her poured into me and spurred on my own impassioned orgasm.

When we were both emptied, emotionally and physically, Vivian rolled her tiny body into mine and I held her in my arms until she fell asleep.

She clung to me for hours while she slept and when she woke that afternoon, her first words to me were, “can you be mine for always?”

I guess she hadn’t realized that I already was.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

VIVIAN

“Summertime Magic” - Childish Gambino

Over the next two weeks, life went on. CeCe and I went back to traveling with the team as they continued to win. Phoenix went back to showing everyone why he was the most vicious pitcher in the game. But Cami sat vigil by Vaughan’s hospital bed.

There wasn’t a free moment in my day that I wasn’t checking in with her or Dagen or Vaughan’s family. We prayed, we cried, and we held on to hope that he would be okay. We started the day with a group text from one of us, telling each other how much we loved them and reminding everyone that Vaughan was going to be just fine. And at night, we did the same, wishing each other sweet dreams and promising tomorrow would be better and brighter.

These texts didn’t just get exchanged between the girls. Bishop–our unofficial fifth chick–got in on it, and then Hayes and before I knew it, Phoenix was whining because he wanted to be part of the group text, too. Us girls still had our own special thread going, but for the most part we communicated everything with everyone.

In between work and games and time with Phoenix, we visited Cami and Vaughan as much as possible. CeCe, Cat and I were able to get Dagen away from the hospital one day when we picked her up straight from school and spent the day doing nails and hair and makeup and just trying to make her smile. That sweet girl was enduring too much heartache for such a young age, and we would do anything to just see that pretty smile of hers.

Phoenix had moved his stuff back into my place and I spent every night showing him just how sorry I was for not believing him when he told me the truth. And then spent every morning showing him I was sorry for being an idiot and thinking I could live without him.

When week three started, the crew moved Cami into Vaughan’s place so that Dagen wouldn’t have to continue to be shuffled between her grandparents and Cami and her parents' homes. It was just easier to have her there, and it’s not like Vaughan hadn’t been begging her to move in with him prior to his accident.

Poor Dagen cried when she moved in. That in turn made Cami cry and the two of them became glued at the hip every moment they were together.

We were all in pain, but leaned on one another for strength and hope. Phoenix was my strong and steady rock, there to hold me up whenever I felt like I could fall. He never let me hit the ground, and for that I was so grateful.

The team was unstoppable which also helped to keep me from crashing, and I just knew they would clinch the ALCS and move on to the World Series. They were headed into game four of the ALCS and led the Bombers–of all teams–three to one. We weren’t at home, but even a win in New York would be sweet.

Phoenix finished up on the mound in the seventh inning and then his coach pulled him to rest in the event they went to game six and seven. It was now bottom of the ninth and the Wranglers were up by one. The Bombers heavy hitter was up with a full count, two outs and a runner on second. This next pitch would either end the Bombers season or push the game further along.

Our pitcher watched the signs Cisco threw his way, nodding off three until he got the one he wanted. His body went through the motions that were like breathing for him and threw a change-up that should’ve been an easy strike. But the batter got a hold of it and sent it soaring above the shortstops head and found the perfect hole to drop.

Philo sprinted to get the ball while the runner began to round third. The Bombers third base coach was flagging the other runner on and Philo launched the ball to home plate. Cisco readied himself in front of the plate and braced for an incoming collision.

The next few moments played out in slow motion and I would replay them in my mind for days and weeks, and maybe months, after.

The Bombers runner dove for home plate right as the ball landed snug in Cisco’s glove. Cisco swiped his hand down to tag the runner who stretched his fingers for home plate and we all held our breath until the umpire gave the signal that he was out.

Every Wranglers player and fan in that stadium erupted into cheers and tears of elation. The guys all jumped the rail and ran out onto the field. The dogpiled Philo then pulled Cisco in. I stood there cheering with tears swimming in my eyes.

This was the first ALCS the Wranglers had won in sixteen years. I was a teenager the last time they were here. My dad had taken me to the game and while I was already a fan of just about every sport, that day I fell hopelessly devoted to baseball.

I was so caught up in the emotion of the win that I didn’t notice Phoenix barreling towards me until I was in his arms and being pulled over the railing from where I sat.

“Phoenix,” I gasped, but there wasn’t any way he’d let me fall.

“We did it, baby!” He spun me around, my legs flailing and flying behind me.

When he stopped he kept his tight hold on me and kissed the tar out of me. On instinct, I wrapped my legs around his waist, no longer caring who saw us, and kissed him with equal passion.

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