Page 16 of Double Play

“I’mtwenty-five.”

“And I’m twenty-two. That’s only three years. And chronological age doesn’t mean much. Some people mature earlier. Some people have certain experiences that make them feel older than theyactuallyare.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to imply anything about your age. I just meant that you might not know what you want your future to be like and that’s perfectly normal forsomeone—”

“My age,” shefinished.

He winced, and filled his mouth with toasted coconut ice cream rather than say anything else that might rub her thewrongway.

“As a matter of fact, I know exactly what I want. I’ve wanted the same thing since I was little. Actually, since mymotherdied.”

Her big blue eyes watched him over the top of her cone. She was licking at it as she spoke, which somehow didn’t detract from her seriousnessatall.

“Okay, well, I’d really like to know whatthatis.”

“Fine. Then I’lltellyou.”

But then she seemed to lose her nerve, and instead swirled her tongue across the surface of the ice cream scoop. He lost himself for a moment in that mesmerizing movement. He started when she finallycontinued.

“I want a family. I had one, a really good one, and then my mother died, and my father couldn’t handle the pain without the help of pharmaceuticals, and then…well, you know what happened. I hurt a gang member and my brother went to juvie and I was all alone. So I want everything I didn’t have for most of my life. A normal, ordinary family. Security. I know it’s not fancy or ambitious, but that’s whatIwant.”

He forgot about his cone as he took in her serious expression. He knew she was resilient and brave, but he hadn’t seen this side of her. The focused, determined, possibly still grieving side. “You deserve that,” he said gently. “You should have whatever youwishfor.”

As he dove back into his ice cream eating, something occurred to him. Something very depressing. He wanted her to have that “normal family” she longed for. But baseball life was nothing like “normal.” It was unpredictable, exciting, frustrating, but it definitely wasn’t normal or ordinary. And secure? No way. A Starbucks barista had more security. Maybe he should have stuck withneuroscience.

But he hadn’t, so how could he possibly fit into Nina’s dream? Why would she ever want to be with a ballplayer, especially a Minor Leaguer who had no idea if he’d ever make it to theMajors?

“If there’s anything I can do to help make your dream come true, just let me know,” he said, trying to keep it light. “Although ballplayers aren’t very good at ‘security’, to be honest. Even the superstars live on the edge. You probably know that, being the sisterofone.”

She stared at him for a long, withering moment with those big baby blues of hers. Under her reproachful gaze, he grew self-conscious. Did he have a stray bit of ice cream on his face? Or, more likely, had he stuck his foot in his mouth? “What’swrong?”

Shaking her head, she returned her attention to her ice cream cone. “Maybe we should drop the subject. We should talk about something else. Trevor, forinstance.”

Now she had him completely confused. Before, she hadn’t wanted to talk about Trevor, now she did. And in between, he’d obviously made an error. Something unforced and upsettingtoher.

His phone beeped with a text message. Balancing his ice cream cone in one hand, he fumbled in his pocket. “Wow, big news.” He stared at the message. “Dwight just gotcalledup.”

“Really?” She seemed to forget her irritation with him. Her face lit up and she leaned over to read the message herself. While she did so, he lost himself in the fresh scent of her skin combined with the minty chocolate of the ice cream. “That’s so exciting! I’m really going to miss him though. The wholetownwill.”

Jim nodded morosely. Count him in that category. Dwight Conner was one of the good guys, someone with a huge heart, generous in every way. He’d taken Jim under his wing. He was a grade-A teammate. He deserved this call-up. He was a great player and would do the Friarsproud.

Jim, on the other hand, would still be scooping up grounders in the Texas dirt untilhedied.

“It could be you next,” Nina said gently. He lifted his head to find her soft gaze on him. It felt like a ray of morning sun on his face. She touched his shoulder, causing a warm sensation to spread throughout his body. Right down to the part of him that knew exactly what he wantedfromNina.

“Sure.” But more and more, he doubted that he’d ever get The Call. “Maybe,” he corrected, since he was the literal sort. “My batting average is marginal, and my fielding is up and down. I’m not a big-time prospect like Dwight or Trevor. I’m what they call a ‘lunch-pail’ player. I come in, I get the job done, but it’s nothingspectacular.”

“Well, then maybe you should do something spectacular. Somethingdazzling.”

“Like what?” He broke off a piece of waffle cone and crunchedonit.

“Like those crazy double plays guys like Derek Jeter used to make. Or Ozzie Smith. Behind the back, through the legs, twisting into a pretzel inmid-air.”

“Derek Jeter.” He said it like a prayer, since Jeter was his all-time idol. “He was the best. One of the best ever. But that’s him. I’m not giftedlikethat.”

She popped the rest of her cone into her mouth and wiped her hands on a napkin. “You know what yourproblemis?”

“What?”

---