Page 68 of Praising the Pitcher

I’m not the guy who talks about feelings and gets upset. I’m certainly not the dude who does all of that with his sister. Yet, here I am, spilling my pathetic guts.

“Noah,” she whispers, flipping to face me and sitting up. “You are one of the best people I know. You need to remember something though.”

I don’t ask her what it is. I know she’s going to say it.

“Gigi is not Natalie,” she says sharply. “And you are nothing like Cal Jacobs.”

I don’t say anything. Instead, I let her words sink in. At least, I try to.

Patting me on my shoulder, she smiles before standing up.

“Just know that if you want to pursue something with Gigi, you have my blessing.” Haven speaks softly yet with purpose. “And I really mean that.”

As she walks toward the door, she stops, not turning toward me.

“And as much as Gigi deserves happiness … remember little brother, so do you.”

With that, she’s gone, leaving me to ponder my own thoughts which I can’t seem to get straight.

Maybe she’s right, but what does it matter? I fucked up and pushed her into the arms of another—likely more deserving—man. And now, it’s probably too late anyway.

TWENTY-FIVE

GIGI

I sip from the cold can of Dr Pepper, letting the all too sweet liquid run down my throat, instantly making me want more. All the different treats I never had as a kid are now at my fingertips, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing yet. Not long ago, I wouldn’t dream of drinking one of these, let alone be on my second.

If my dad could see me right now …

He’d probably have a meltdown. No, scratch that. He would definitely have a meltdown.

I look around the living room now that we’ve all finished dinner and are in here, awaiting the Yankee Swap to begin. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to have holidays like this always. Then again, we didn’t have friends who became family mostly because who was going to want to be friends with my dad?

Exactly.

Noah hasn’t spoken to me since last night, and I haven’t gone out of my way to talk to him either. That kiss changed everything. And now, I think even being friends is off the table. Who am I kidding though? I was already struggling to be his friend, barely hanging on by a thread. Now that we’ve kissed … forget it.

Speaking of kissing, I can’t wait to go into my room tonight and dive headfirst into a small-town Christmas book and read some scenes where they kiss … and then proceed to rip each other’s clothes off.

“So, Gigi,” Memphis, Dallas’s mom, says, her voice warm as she steps beside me, startling me from the thoughts of my smutty little books. “Are you excited for the upcoming softball season?”

Memphis is the opposite of Haven’s mom, Anna. And Cameran, the other mom in their friend group, is also more timid than Anna. Although, that wouldn’t take a lot. Anna King is bold and filled with fire, and I love it.

“I am.” I smile, dropping the can of nearly empty soda lower. “I’m always a little restless in the winter, ready to play actual games.”

“I bet. I know Haven has always been the same way.” She chuckles. “And I recall a few holes in the walls and broken windows growing up because she’d try to throw the ball inside.”

“I’m not surprised there.” I laugh as I imagine a young Haven, forcing someone to throw with her inside and forgetting her arm’s strength. It’s humorous and somehow comforting to think about, even though I know if that was my case, my dad would have disowned me. He may have wanted me to spend ninety-nine percent of my time training, but if I did anything to mess up his picture-perfect house, he would have lost his shit.

With Mason beside his wife, an arm around her proudly, Anna announces we’re going to start the Yankee Swap. For some reason, nerves bubble up in my belly. I guess because I don’t really know what to expect from this.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I know what a Yankee Swap is, but I don’t know what kind of gifts are under the tree. Are there gag gifts? Embarrassing gifts?

If there are, I’ll probably be the person to stumble across one.

“Better go make sure my husband is behaving himself,” Memphis murmurs but grins as she nods toward her husband, Lane, who stands beside Trent Cade. “You never know what those two could be plotting.”

She pats my shoulder before walking off, leaving me and the last of my Dr Pepper alone. I know Noah is across the room, sitting beside Dallas. I’ve avoided catching his gaze all night, but when I’m standing by myself, it becomes unbearable.