“Having fun, son?” Colt called out.
“She's a natural!” Jack called back, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
“I can see that,” Joseph said, grinning. “That last one really showed promise.”
Rachel buried her face in Jack's shoulder, laughing. “I'm never living this down, am I?”
“Probably not,” Jack admitted. “But hey, at least you tried. That's all that matters.”
“You're just saying that because you love me.”
“That's definitely part of it,” Jack agreed, pulling her closer. “But I also mean it. You're brave enough to try new things, even when you know it won’t go great at first. That's pretty amazing, Rach.”
Rachel looked up at him, her heart squeezing at the sincerity in his voice. Jack always made her feel like she was capable of anything.
“One more try?” she asked.
Jack's smile widened. “One more try.”
He handed her the ball and stepped back. Rachel took a breath, wound up, and threw with all her might.
The ball sailed past the net, over the fence, and disappeared into the neighbor's yard.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then everyone burst into laughter.
Rachel dropped her face into her hands, her own laughter mixing with embarrassment. “I'm done. I'm officially retiring from baseball.”
Jack swept her up in his arms, spinning her around despite her protests, kissing her soundly. “That's okay. I love you anyway.”
* * *
And surrounded by the laughter of their family, with the setting sun painting everything gold, Rachel decided that being terrible at baseball was a small price to pay for moments like this.
“Rachel,” George called out, gesturing for her to come over. “Come sit with an old man for a minute.”
Jack's arms loosened reluctantly, and Rachel pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before standing and walking over to George. She settled on the grass near his chair, tucking her legs beneath her.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?” George asked, his voice warm with genuine concern. “Really doing, I mean. Not the polite answer you sometimes give.”
Rachel considered the question, touched by his perceptiveness. “I'm good. Better than I've been in a long time, actually. It feels like I can finally breathe.”
George nodded slowly. “That's good. That's real good. You've been through more than most folks experience in a lifetime, and you're still just a girl.”
“I don't feel like just a girl anymore,” Rachel said quietly.
“No, I suppose you don't.” George took a sip of his tea. “But that's not always a bad thing. Sometimes growing up fast means you appreciate what you have more than folks who had it easy.”
Rachel looked back at the gathering. Colt and Joseph laughed at the grill, Carrie and Shiloh chatted like old friends, and Jack watched her from the blanket with such open affection it made her chest ache.
“I was just thinking,” Rachel said, “about how this feels like family.”
“That's because it is family,” George said simply. “Not all families are blood, Rachel. Some of the best families are the kind you choose.”
Tears pricked Rachel’s eyes. She remembered her parents, and Sunday dinners around a small table, her mother's laughter, and her father's gentle teasing. She thought about her grandmother teaching her to braid hair and her grandfather reading to her before bed. Those memories were precious, kept safe in her heart like treasures she could pull out and examine whenever she needed to remember she'd been loved.
But they were also tinged with loss. With the ache of knowing those people were gone and she'd never get them back.
“I miss them,” Rachel whispered. “My parents. My grandparents. Sometimes I'm scared I'll forget what they looked like, what they sounded like.”
