CHAPTER 15
Once we’d claimed our cage, Chase wanted me to go first, but I was still preoccupied by the hand in the photo. I let him start while I tried to sever myself from everything that picture might mean.
Fortunately for me, Chase was not as proficient hitting balls as he was smashing walls. He missed his first swing. And his second.
And his third.
The rest of the round didn’t get any better. He tipped a few, but that was about it. He stepped back and shook his head before meeting my eye. “A little help?”
I joined him in the cage, widened his stance slightly and used my hands over his to line up his knuckles on the bat. At that first brush of contact, warmth pulsed through me, heating my cheeks down to my toes and everywhere in between. I’d come up behind him, but he was so much bigger and taller than me that I’d had to go up on my toes and lean into him to see over his shoulder. “If you grip it like this, it’ll help you turn your wrists when you swing.” My arms were around him as we practiced the motion. It was almost like a dance, slow and focused. Pressed up against him, I was feeling the muscles I’d only ever seen before, and they made me go a little light-headed. That close, it was impossible not to breathe him in. He smelled like the ocean, fresh and inviting. I swallowed and moved back.
“You ready to go again?” I stepped clear as soon as he was in position, and I fed more tokens into the machine. He swung again, and the solid hit elicited a whoop from me. I held both hands up for the double high five he gave me through the net.
“You’re good at this coaching thing.”
“I was raised by one, plus my dad has been coaching me and my sister since T-ball.” Chase made another solid hit to the back of the net. “And you’re picking it up really well. Did you ever play as a kid?”
“Not much. Little League for a year or two with Brandon, but—”crack!“—we were never really into it. My uncle isn’t a big sports guy, so he never pushed us one way or another.”
Chase was the kind of guy you looked at and immediately thoughtathlete. He was strong, and there was something about the way he moved, a sense of complete control. I watched him hit again, and there was enough power in his swing to rival the sound of a gunshot when it connected. “You had to have played something.”
“I played some football in high school, and now I do CrossFit.”
That explanation fit almost as well as his T-shirt. I got lost watching the way the muscles in his back and arms shifted each time he swung. It was…impressive. I was almost disappointed when Chase lowered his bat once his second round ended.
He looked at me on the other side of the cage. “You’re up.”
I was conscious of Chase’s eyes on me as I took his place, aware that he was likely looking at me as intently as I’d studied him. Once I started hitting, though, I forgot everything but the ball and bat in my hands. Half my life had been spent in a batting cage or on a field with Dad pitching to me and Selena, cheering our wins and helping us to improve when we lost, lifting me on his shoulders the first time I hit a home run. How could I reconcile the pain of what he’d done with the happy memories that came unbidden now? I missed the next pitch and only tipped the one after that. Chase couldn’t see my face or my rapidly blinking eyes to know that anything was wrong. I twisted my toe into the ground, trying to focus only on the ball.Crack!And another, until my pitches were out. Then I turned to Chase with a smile I didn’t feel.
“Up for another round?”
We hit for a long while. The crack of the bat sounded good—it always did—but somehow it was extra cathartic now. My mind would no sooner drift than my body would swing, and the impact would bring me right back to the present.
When we were both too spent for another round and my mind had stropped trying to stray, we made our way to the parking lot and sat on the open tailgate of Chase’s truck.
“This was fun.”
“It’s not smashing a building, but yeah.” I smiled, glancing at Chase. Like the night we first met, his shirt was damp with sweat, and I could feel a furnace of heat coming from his body. We were close enough that our arms kept brushing, and once or twice our knees. Everywhere we touched, it was like little fireworks went off and shot straight to my erratically beating heart.
Chase laughed. And then he did something that knocked my smile right off my face. He slid his hand into mine, lacing our fingers together and resting them on his thigh. His hand was as warm as the rest of him, and calloused, even more than mine. He didn’t act like it was a big deal, taking my hand, but it felt big to me. And nice. Really, really nice. My skin was darker, more tan than the sun had made his, but it was possible he’d catch me by summer. His closely cropped hair might lighten then too, but I hoped not too much—I liked the dark brown on him. I wondered if the color came from his mom or dad.
“Can I ask you something…kind of random?” I said, keeping my eyes on our linked hands.
“Sure.”
“Do you ever see your father?”
I felt the muscles in Chase’s arm contract. “No, I don’t see him.”
“Your choice or his?”
“Both. He’s never come back and I’ve never gone looking.”
I nodded.
“Why?”
I turned our hands over, revealing more of my skin, a mix of Dad’s and Mom’s. I could hide from the sun for the rest of my life and the color would never fade. “Were you ever curious about that side of your family?”
