I clocked the moment he saw me. Then I watched his jaw tick when Brett sat beside me.
Going for a nonchalant professional and not a woman whose body is on fire, I wave Brett’s concerns away. “We’re in a big section. He could be looking at anyone. Don’t think too far into it.”
Brett opens his mouth to respond but stops when Cade makes his way to the batter’s box.
The announcer whistles into the mic. “I don’t know about y’all, but I feel like the golden boy is in his own league.”
My lips twist at an odd angle, loving the praise for Cade while stewing at the nickname. “His name is Cade,” I mutter. “Not golden boy.”
Brett smiles. “Protective Shay. Me likey.”
“Shut up.” I laugh but grow serious when the Jackals pitcher winds up and releases a fastball. I would cry if a ball came at me like that, but Cade doesn’t flinch.
“Ball!” the umpire shouts.
The next ball is a fastball too, and Cade swings. The umpire throws his clenched fist out to the side and the crowd lets out a collective groan.
Brett sucks in a sharp breath. “I changed my mind. I hate baseball. How is he not crying right now? I’d be in tears if I were him.”
All I can do is nod, keeping my eyes on the man in front of me.
The third pitch cuts through the air, and I almost scream. Strike two.
I cover my eyes and peek through the gaps in my fingers. Even with a slightly distorted view, it’s clear that Cade is unaffected. He’s calm and cool in the batter’s box with a simple tilt to his lips.
Some people are made to save lives. Some are meant to teach.
Cade is meant to play baseball.
The pitcher winds up, and the moment the ball leaves his fingertips, I’m on my feet. The roar of the crowd is deafening, but nothing can stifle the victorious crack of wood, signifying the perfect hit as the ball disappears into the upper deck.
“Clear skies! Fly high!” fills the air as Cade taps two fingers to his temples, a silent reply to the crowd’s cheers. When the scoreboard flashes WALK-OFF, Cade tosses his bat aside and begins the home run trot.
But instead of focusing on the field, his attention lands on me, and one hazel eye flutters shut. It’s so fast that I don’t think anyone caught the wink, but I felt it.
And it’s oddly nice to be the one he’s looking at again.
“I have work in the morning,” I whine, using my go-to excuse.
“You have workeverymorning.” Adri tosses her sandals aside. “And I don’t want to leave! I miss you and this house.”
Her words aren’t meant to be a barb, but they prick my skin anyway. The red brick house on the corner was our spot for years. Even when Mallory moved in with Kenneth, we still tried to hang out here. After I canceled three times for work, hangouts moved to their place at Lake Anita.
“We all do,” Mallory butts in, pausing to glare at Adri. “But if you need us to go, we will.”
It’s not that I don’t want them here, but the state of my house is embarrassing. Only Mallory has been here recently and has never commented on the bare space that used to be our solace. She’s not one to bite her tongue, but she tries for me.
“No,” I finally say. “We can watch a movie.”
After saying goodbye to Brett at the stadium, I let Mallory, Jo, and Adri convince me to hang out for a bit. Being here reminds me of simpler days when Mallory lived down the hall and Jo and Adri would barge in at all hours. We would stretch across the couch after a hard practice or stay up all night for post-date recaps as we divulged private information. But ever since I started at Permian, I’ve lost those nights.
Putting my job first may be for the best, but I’m lonely.
Slipping on a tattered CLU sweatshirt, I ask, “Where’s Kenneth?”
Mallory rolls a vial of insulin between her hands, warming it for her injection. “He took Nan and Titus home. Knowing them, they’re finishing a puzzle, but he should be here soon.”
“I missed our grandparents?” I groan. Nan and Titus, her man-friend—because boyfriend is apparently too juvenile—practically adopted us after Kenneth and Mallory started dating two years ago.
