Isaiah swings his arm over my shoulders when the pitcher winds up for the third pitch of the sequence. Their closer is nervous, that’s evident. His team’s entire season is resting on his shoulders and he’s up against one of the best young hitters in the league.
And when he releases the pitch, he sends it straight down the center of the plate. Milo’s swing is flawless, and when his bat connects, he sends the ball deep. Deep into center field, over the ivy, much in the way he did that first day he hit a homer off Kai.
I couldn’t even tell you where the ball lands because it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that it’s gone, and we just won.
We just won the whole damn thing.
The stadium erupts in madness. The team rushes out of the dugout, meeting Travis at home plate before they charge Milo after he rounded second, dogpiling him there in the infield.
The bullpen flies out, joining the celebration, and Kai heads straight for his brother.
The next few moments are a whirlwind. My coaching staff comes over to celebrate with me. There’s a shit ton of cheering and shouting and hugging.
Finally, I run up the dugout stairs, joining our group on the field. Kai is the first person I find there. He throws his arms around me, and I do the same. Then Isaiah jumps in, and all three of us are celebrating. Champagne soaks my shirt, but then I’m handed a new one that says,Windy City Warriors. World Champions.
“Holy shit, we did it!” Isaiah yells next to my ear.
“I love you guys!” Kai shouts.
Isaiah slips his new championship hat on, and Kai grabs a bottle of bubbles, chugging some before passing them to his brother.
But I look around the crowd because there’s only one person I want to celebrate with.
“Where’s Kenny?” Isaiah calls out. “Where’s my wife?”
Kennedy and the rest of the medical staff eventually make their way onto the field, and he sprints in her direction.
“Where’s Mills sitting?” Kai asks me, searching the family section for his wife and kids. I point up at those three, and when he finds them in the stands, he runs over to help them down onto the field.
Reese still isn’t out here. There’s got to be about a hundred people on the field already and she’s not one of them. I frantically scan the space, looking up to the owner’s box to find Reese’s parents and grandparents, but not her.
“Monty!” A reporter and camera operator run up with a microphone extended. “You just won the World Series, tell us what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking I need to celebrate with my girl, but I can’t find her.”
There’s literally only one person I want to talk to right now. One person I want to celebrate with.
The reporter points me in the right direction.
Finally, sharp blonde hair peeks out from the dugout tunnel. I can practically hear the click of her heels against the cement, the way the sound is so ingrained in my memory, as she makes her way to me.
The smile on my lips is instant.
Pushing through bodies, ignoring anyone who tries to stop me, I race across the field to her just as she takes the stairs up. She practically throws herself at me. I throw myself at her. As I lift her up, her legs wrap around me.
Now, I can celebrate.
“We did it!” Reese exclaims. It’s a mixture of disbelief, shock, and pure joy.
“Yeah, we did!” I press my face to her neck, holding her tight. “I love you so much.”
“I love you! I can’t believe this!”
“Believe it, Reese. We just did that.Youjust did that.”
“Marry me.”
That halts me in place. It’s loud on the field, so chaotic, that there’s no way I could have heard her correctly.
