Page 88 of Praising the Pitcher

“No,” she says instantly, her eyes narrowing. “Annnd … I’m not really sure I want to either …”

“Trust me.” I say the two words nonchalantly, but I know they carry so much weight when it comes to her.

She relaxes in her seat, nodding subtly. “All right, I trust you,” she barely whispers, and I hold her eyes.

“What was that, Smoke? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

She rolls her eyes but giggles nervously.

“I said … I trust you,” she repeats, this time a little louder.

And that’s all it takes for me to press my foot down on the gas, driving halfway across the parking lot before I cut the wheel hard, forcing the truck to drift. Our bodies jolt around in the cab, and when I look at her from the corner of my eye, I expect her to be glaring at me or looking like she’ll be sick. Instead, she just sits there with eyes wide.

I cut the wheel again, letting the truck do a couple of donuts before I spin it the other way. Now, she isn’t just sitting over in the passenger seat silently. No, she’s … she’s laughing.

The sound is music to my ears. And not just the type of music you put on to drown the silence but instead, the kind you bask in.

The kind you lose yourself in.

“Oh my gosh!” she yells when I whip the truck faster, letting us fly backward before I cut the wheel again.

Drifting in the snow is something my dad taught me when I first got my license. Maybe some parents would frown upon it, but like he told me, you have to feel comfortable driving in the snow to be able to do it safely. Because he taught me to master drifting, if my vehicle ever started to lose control, I’d know what to do. I’d know never to overcorrect, and instead of fighting the snow, just learn to be one with it.

Her laughter doesn’t stop, and neither does mine because right now … she’s having fun. She isn’t thinking about her asshole dad or how much she misses her mom. I know all of that will come back when the wheels come to a stop and she’s back to reality. But if I can give her an escape, even for a few more minutes, that’s what I’m going to do.

THIRTY-ONE

NOAH

Hand in hand, we walk into my parents’ house, and I’m instantly hit with the warm air because I swear my mom likes it to be close to eighty degrees at their place. My dad used to bitch about the cost of heating oil, but eventually, he gave up. Besides, if my mom wanted it to be ninety in here, he would have allowed it.

We both take our boots off before trudging toward the living room where I’m sure they’ll all be sitting around, watching a movie.

As we round the corner, I grin because, yep, my mom and dad are snuggled on one couch, and Haven and Dallas are on another. Though, Dallas is playing on his phone and not watching The Santa Claus, which is my mom’s favorite.

Mom’s eyes find us right away. She smiles, sitting up and pausing the movie.

“Hi, guys! You made it.” She walks over to us, hugging Gigi first before moving to me. “How were the roads?”

“They weren’t too bad,” I say honestly. “Saw some salt trucks out, so they’re working on them.”

“Glad you guys could come back,” she murmurs, hugging me once more before releasing me. “Dinner is all ready, just finished it before I sat down for a minute to watch the best Christmas movie of all time!” she says loud enough, knowing my sister will argue.

“Wronnnng,” Haven sasses, and my mom rolls her eyes.

“All right, let’s go eat!” she says, throwing her arm around Gigi and smiling. “Thanks for coming back, Gigi. Truly, it means a lot.”

As they head into the kitchen, I follow behind, but not before my dad catches me.

“Looks like you didn’t fuck it up too bad after all.” He grins. “Good job.”

I shrug but still feel like I’m holding my breath. Because I’m not fully convinced I won’t fuck it up beyond repair. Or that she won’t decide I’m not what she wants.

All of those thoughts are put on hold when Dallas slaps me on the back.

“Get out of your own head,” he mutters before walking around me to catch up with my sister. Or maybe to get to the table first so he can load his plate. Who knows.

I sigh. I’m going to try, but fuck if it isn’t hard.