101.
The batter steps out, resets his grip. He knows what’s coming and he still can’t stop it.
Lucas winds up and throws everything he has.
102.
Right past the bat like it was standing still.
Strike three.
Three up. Three down.
I’m cheering wildly, jumping up and down and screaming like a madwoman. Mom hugs me and we scream together.
Doug whistles again, shaking his head in something that looks like pride.
He turns around and looks at me past the fans that separate us.
“Whatever you did to that kid, keep doing it.”
I nod, smiling. “Yes, sir.”
Doug and I had a good chat after everything settled, and being Jake’s handler has made my life so much simpler. Cleaner.
And it’s changed the tenor of the family thread.
Less “Scottie, make Jake look good,” and more “Jake, when are you going to listen to Scottie?”
I love that change.
Not as much as I love my boyfriend, but I love it.
***
After my parents finally leave for the airport, after the postgame interviews wrap up, and after the last few lingering fans trickle out of the stadium, the concourse settles into that strange quiet that only happens when the lights are still on but the crowd is gone.
The cleaning crew is getting to work, but the smells of popcorn, sunscreen, and the dusty sweetness of spilled soda linger on the air. Somewhere far off, a maintenance cart beeps in reverse.
I’m walking toward the clubhouse when I see him.
Lucas is leaning against one of the concrete columns near the tunnel, cap turned backward, freshly showered and in shorts and a plain gray T-shirt that fits him so well, I almost can’t believe I get to ogle this man in public.
His eyes lift the second he hears my footsteps.
And the smile that spreads across his face makes my heart leap.
“Well,” he says, pushing off the column. “There’s my handler.”
“I’m not your handler.”
“Could’ve fooled me. You’ve been bossing me around for a year.”
I step closer, lowering my voice.
“That was before I was dating you.”
Lucas’s eyes darken in that way that makes heat surge through me.
