Page 89 of Praising the Pitcher

GIGI

Dallas, Noah, and Mason are bundled up and headed outside to shovel the porch and walkways. It’s almost nine o’clock and dark, but apparently their outside lighting is good enough to see what they’re shoveling, and they don’t seem too bummed to have to do it.

Haven and I sit on the kitchen bar stools, across from where Anna washes the countertop. I tried countless times to take over cleanup duty, but she wouldn’t let me. She just said it’s therapeutic for her after a long day to pick up. I had my doubts she really meant that, but I didn’t want to step on her toes.

Tossing the rag into the sink, she washes her hands and looks over at me. Something inside tells me we’re about to have a deep conversation. One I’m not sure I’m even ready for, but I somehow know what’s about to happen before she opens her mouth.

“So … Haven told me Will hasn’t been able to work with you lately?” She breaks the ice with this bomb, and my eyes fly to my best friend, who simply shrugs.

“What? She has connections.” She bumps her shoulders to mine. “Way more than your dad.”

My head swivels, focusing on Anna again.

“Yeah. He, uh, didn’t feel like being blackmailed.” I grimace. “Not like I can blame him. He has such a good reputation in the softball world.”

She leans over the counter, resting her forearms on the beautiful granite.

“He’ll be working with you again starting next week,” she says with absolute ease. “Your father no longer has the ability to blackmail anyone. Which leads me to my next topic—you’ll be back with your trainer next week too.”

I stare blankly at her, not knowing what to do with this information. It sounds great, but I also don’t want to get my hopes up. My father, as much as I hate to admit it, is a powerful guy. And he loves to misuse that power any time he gets the chance.

“My dad—” I pause, clearing my throat. “He doesn’t really just forget things he threatens.”

Her lip curls. “He will this time, babe. I promise.”

“How?” I blurt, though it comes out as a rushed whisper.

“Don’t worry about the details.” She waves me off. “Just keep being you. Keep playing for you. Training for you. And improving—for you.” She stops, her eyes searching mine, and suddenly, I can see her own sadness in her gaze. “I know what it feels like to be abandoned by your own family, your own blood.” Her eyes drop to the counter. “I promise, accepting it? It does get easier with time.”

She nods toward her daughter, and even though they bicker, warmth spreads across her face.

“Family can look different with everyone. And I promise, you’ll have a family. One that fills your heart so full, you won’t have that void you’re probably feeling right now.”

I flick away a tear I didn’t realize was so close to falling and nod. I can’t look at her though, afraid of falling apart.

Anna has always seemed so positive, someone who truly puts her family above everything. And not the family she grew up with, but the one she raised—and Mason. I hope one day, I have my own family. My own safe space.

“Thank you, Anna,” I whisper, just as Haven rests her head to my shoulder.

This has been an incredibly emotional day, but as I look around at who I’m surrounded by, knowing that tonight, I’m going to go to bed beside Noah … I’m right where I belong. Even if it’s going to take some getting used to.

THIRTY-TWO

GIGI

In the library, I look down at the book in my hand as a smile creeps over my lips.

“Oh to read this one for the first time again,” I whisper, running my fingers over the front.

It was a true gem, and something about the fact a fellow college kid read it warms my chest. I wish I’d been here when they brought it back. I would have asked what their favorite part of the story was, and how many times they cried.

I lost count my first time.

I debate checking it out myself, but I’ve already read it three times, and now, it should be someone else’s turn. Since getting this job at the library last month, that’s sort of a daily battle I have with myself.

Not all the books are for you, Gigi, I tell myself over and over. Though, one run of my fingers over the cover of a classic and I seem to have forgotten that.

“FYI, I locked the door,” Lilly says, catching my attention as she walks toward me.