“Sure you can.” Gunner hopped out of the car and came around to open her door.
She sat there, unmoving. “Gunner, you don’t understand. I can’t climb.”
“That’s not what I hear.”
She pressed her clenched fingers to her mouth. “Gunner, if I break you tonight, Coach Wolfe is going to kill me.” She gasped. There was something missing inside of her. The need to test herself against Mother Nature was not there, pushing her. She blinked, trying to decide if she should be freaking out.
Gunner didn’t give her a moment. “You’re not going to break me. This is an indoor facility with a padded floor.”
She gave him ano waylook.
“Fine. I won’t climb. But you need this.” He held out his hand.
She stared at him, sizing him up. He wasn’t going to back down. But then, she wasn’t sure what was happening inside of her. Maybe going in would help her figure things out. “Do you promise not to do something stupid?”
“Cross my heart.” He made an X on his chest. She took his hand, and he pulled her out of the vehicle.
They strolled inside, and a redhead with a curly ponytail greeted her by name and pulled her in for a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You too, Robin.” The smell of chalk and sweat hit her nose and unkinked some of her muscles. Her skin itched all over. “I didn’t bring my harness.”
“No problem. We’ve got you covered.” Robin hooked her up with gear, and soon she and Gunner were standing at the bottom of a wall.
Gunner held the two ropes—one in each hand. “So, how do I save your life?”
“Belay?” She grabbed one of the ropes and made a clove hitch securing the rope on the carabiner. “You need to keep the slack out of my line as I climb.” She wasn’t nervous about going up the wall, even with an inexperienced partner on the rope. She could climb this in her sleep.
Gunner nodded. His face was etched with concentration, much like it had been on the field when he pitched. His square jaw and straight Roman nose were given an attractive edge.
She looked a moment longer. “You know, you’re not ugly.”
He burst out a laugh. “You’re just figuring this out?”
She ducked her head, embarrassed that her thoughts had made it into words before she had a chance to censor them. “Sorry. You’re not my type.”
“I know. You like them brooding and ticked off.” He pulled the slack, and she showed him how to hold the rope.
Approaching the wall, her eyes found her first handholds, though her arms hung by her side. “Brayden wasn’t always like that. He smiled more than any man I know.”
“Whatever.” Gunner nudged her to take another step.
She grabbed the chalk bag attached to her harness, releasing a puff of chalk into the air and covering her palms. After dusting them together, she grabbed the first hold, a yellow grip with a rounded edge. Pulling up, she quickly positioned her feet and grabbed on with her other hand. The movement was as natural as walking. That drive to stare death in the face, to put herself up against the toughest terrain, still didn’t surface.
She had this feeling that she’d been playing with her life all this time, and now she valued it in a different way. If Brayden, who was strong and capable and fit, could be taken out of the game, then she could too. That day had changed her.
“The fall changed him, made him angry.” She talked as she climbed, her mind spinning through the events of the last month and a half as her natural grace took over. A small bead of sweat dripped down the middle of her back. Man, it felt … right. Her ribs protested slightly, but she wasn’t asking anything of them that they couldn’t perform. Climbing used big muscle groups and small muscle groups. She remembered that she liked being in touch with all of them. That was part of what had drawn her to climbing: the almost spiritual connection she gained with her body. “I think it scared him too.”
“Why?” Gunner called up to her.
She was halfway to the top. There was no need to race. A sense of being outside of time and a step away from her troubles swallowed her the higher she climbed. It was like she’d risen above the pain and could see things from a whole new perspective. “Because he’d always been Mr. Baseball. Pitching was inside of him, part of his genetic makeup. Without the ability to play, he saw himself as less of a man.” She closed her eyes. “And he always valued me so highly—maybe he thought I wouldn’t want him.”
“An intentional walk?” asked Gunner.
Tilly tapped the top of the wall. “Belay!” Gunner tightened his hold, and she let go of the wall, bouncing off of it with her feet as he fed her rope. She landed in front of him. “What did you say?”
“I said he gave you an intentional walk.”
Her mouth fell open. “Brayden doesn’t do that. I mean, heneverwould intentionally walk a batter.” Tears gathered, and she swiped under her eyes. “He would rather go down throwing.”
