With Colton’s heroic assistance, I manage to hold the baseball bat in the correct position; however, when it comes time to swing, visions of my PE teacher doubled over in pain come to mind, and I barely nick the ball.
“It’s okay, Missy. You’ve got this.” Joseph claps encouragingly from behind us, ever the supporter.
“That was good,” Colton says, eyeing the poor old baseball that face-planted in the sand at my feet.
I laugh. “Good, as in terrible? Or good, as in catastrophic?”
“Good, as in that was your first try. Let’s go again.”
Colton picks up the baseball, then throws it back to Tyrone at the pitcher’s leaf in the center of the diamond. Once again,Colton steps behind me, but this time, he slides his fingers around mine as they hold the makeshift baseball bat. Suddenly, I feel the brush of his thumb against the back of my hand. “Missy?”
“Yes?” I barely manage the single word, not when he says my name all sultry-like.
“How did you get this scar? I’ve always noticed it, but never asked.” Once more, his featherlight touch brushes the line of raised skin that’s been there for over a decade.
The silence stretches between us, but his finger never stops sending my heart into overdrive. Then I realize he’s waiting for a response.
“Oh … um … I was trying to grab something out of an old desk drawer when I was younger, and when I pulled my hand out, it caught on a piece of splintered wood.”
“That must have hurt,” he says.
“Yes … I mean, no.” I laugh nervously. “I mean, yes.” Truth was, I’d barely noticed the cut when it happened. All I could think of at that moment was getting my little glow-in-the-dark star from the desk in our mobile home and zipping it in my backpack before it was too late. It was the one small token I wanted to keep from my home before I was forced to leave. I hadn’t realized I was bleeding until fifteen or so minutes later, but by then, the pain didn’t really matter. What’s a little cut compared to a broken heart?
“You ready, Missy Jean?” Colton asks.
That name again. His soft words vibrate against my back, making me want to lean into him more than I already am. “Ready.”
“Okay, now when you look at that ball, I want you to picture a problem … or, well, an issue,” he amends, reminding me of our disagreement during the coconut Mayday Challenge.
He seriously thinks I’ve never had a problem in my life. I feel a surge of sadness, but I don’t give it roots to grow.
“You picture that thing, and you swing at it with all you’ve got,” he says.
A drone circles me at eye level, and I put on a flirtatious smile. “Don’t tell me you think of me when you hit a baseball,” I say, half flirting, half serious.
“I told you, I can’t lie. Nor do I want to insult a lady.”
I jab him lightly in the gut, giving him a piece of my mind.
He coughs out a small laugh. “I’m kidding.”
I turn my head to see his face, trying to gauge how serious he is, when my cheek brushes against his beard. It’s then that I realize our lips are a breath apart. On instinct, I flinch and am about to pull away when Colton’s left hand brings me closer to him. “It’s not you, Missy Jean. You’re a lot of things, but never a problem.”
My eyes mist, seeing the sincerity in his.Stop it. Colton. Stop it.But my chastisement is cut short by the overwhelming desire to know what Colton imagines when he hits a baseball. What lingers behind those blue eyes that suddenly feel a mile deep?
“I’ve just taken a power nap in the time you two have been standing there,” Tyrone deadpans. “Can we play ball?”
Colton and I laugh.
“Okay, we’re ready,” I say, raising the bat into swinging position.
Colton lets go of my waist, but somehow, I know he’s not going to leave my side.
A second later, Tyrone throws the ball, and I take Colton’s instructions to heart, remembering all the years of loneliness and pain, and then I swing.
Loud as thunder, my bat collides with the baseball, sending it into the jungle. Tearjerker runs after it, and when he does, I run. I run from my heartaches and straight to first base. Leavingthe pain behind, I round on second. I feel something free and alive working within me, and before I know it, I’m onto third, imagining my dreams and the future ahead, and then—then I’m running home—heading straight to Colton.
My teammates erupt into cheers as I leap onto home base.
