Page 96 of Praising the Pitcher

It was six-year-old you, out in the yard, hitting off a tee, even when the bat was as big as you were. And seven-year-old you, pitching faster than most ten-year-olds could. Twelve-year-old you, who got invited to play on an all-star team halfway across the country because they needed your talent and had you at the top of their list. Or thirteen-year-old you who threw the most no-hitter games your middle school had ever seen and had college scouts already watching you.

I wish I was going to be around to tell you what you did at fourteen, and however old you are now and every year in between. But if I know one thing, it’s that right now, that same girl who was outside throwing into a net until the sun went down is still inside you. That is who you are, G.

So no, baby. It was never your dad building you as a player. He didn’t make you who you are. He didn’t turn you into the great player you became. That was you. It was your grit. Your determination. Your strength. But mostly …

It was your love for softball. Your adoration for that yellow (or is it green) ball. The happiness that comes with the dirt under your cleats when you’re on the mound. And that’s something he can never take away from you. As long as you don’t let him.

I need you to do something for not just yourself, but for me too. I need you to be strong. Believe in yourself. Be kind to others. Put love into the world and let it come into yours as well. Just be yourself, Gigi. I promise, that’ll get you where you need to go. And hopefully where you want to go too.

You are extraordinary. I need you to remember that. Hold onto it always. Because I’d give anything to be around to remind you daily, and my hope is one day you’ll have someone who will do it for me. But even if you don’t, you need to remind yourself.

Now, the page behind this one is a document. A damn important one too. I know it’s going to shock you, and for that, I’m sorry. I wish I could have told you before leaving, but for reasons I think you will probably understand, I had to keep this a secret. I had to protect you a little longer. And protect what is rightfully yours.

Please don’t feel like I’m trying to shove anyone else’s dream down your throat. I know you have your own goals, and I never want you to give up on that. But maybe this could help you get there, in some way. Put your own spin on it, make it fit your hopes and dreams.

I love you so much, and I promise, there isn’t a world where I won’t somehow be with you every day. There isn’t a world that could keep me away. So even though you can’t see me … please know, I’ll always be right here. With you.

Love,

Mom

P.S. I am sorry I couldn’t tell you more and didn’t talk to you about this sooner. I had my reasons, and even though it may seem selfish, I promise, it was to protect you.

THIRTY-FOUR

GIGI

I pace back and forth—just like I have for God knows how long. My feet carry me from the edge of my bed and back to the wall before I do it all over. Noah arrived a while ago after I sent him a frantic text message, and even though he’s quietly reading the document, I can’t seem to sit still.

Surely what I read couldn’t have been right. I must be missing something because there’s no way my mom⁠—

“Holy shit,” Noah whispers, breaking the silence. “You are the owner of BOOMA shoes.” His eyes lift to mine, and finally, I stop pacing. “You became the legal owner when you turned eighteen.”

For a long moment, I just stare at him, unable to form any kind of coherent sentence. But eventually, I gulp.

“Are you … sure?” I can barely get the words out. None of this seems real.

“Yeah.” His voice trails off, his eyes running over the paper again. “Your mom was the owner. And she left it to you.”

Noah walks closer to me, his movements slow and hesitant, almost like he’s afraid he’ll spook me. When he closes the gap, he gently cups my cheeks.

“I’m sure this is a lot to take in all at once, but you read the letter—she kept it a secret to protect you. I’m sure she knew your dad would have done something shady and it needed to be handled under the radar.”

I had given him the letter with the document, and at first, he shook his head. He felt like he was invading my privacy by reading it, but I felt like he needed to because in some weird way, it seemed like my mom was explaining why she didn’t tell me in person in her own way.

I don’t think she could. She knew he would have lost his mind if she tried to bring this up.

“Yeah, I know,” I whisper, nodding against his palm. “I bet he’s been living his best life, assuming I’d never find out and he could continue acting like he owns the company.” I sniff. “That company was started from my grandfather’s life savings. It was his dream, and my dad slithered his way into the center of it and took control away from my mom.” I narrow my eyes, standing taller. “He’s in for a rude awakening, because he took enough from her when she was alive, and he’s taken enough from me too.”

The smallest grin tugs at Noah’s lips, and he brushes his thumb across my cheek. “I like it when you’re all sassy, Smoke.”

“Fuck him,” I say, lifting my chin. “I can’t wait to look him in the eye and tell him to pack his shit and get out. Because you know what this means? I own his house too.”

Not long ago, I probably would have felt bad taking my own father’s house and company away from him—even if he had spent my entire life belittling me. Now though? I truly can’t wait to get justice for my mom. He was a dick and deserved absolutely nothing from my saint of a mother.

Noah slides his hands around me and pulls me against him. “I love you. I’m so proud of you. You’re the strongest person I know.” He presses a kiss to my lips and pulls back. “Your mom is right, you know.”

“About what?”