his body was. When a runner tried to steal, their entire being was aimed in the same direction. He had to get there faster than I could throw the ball, which was hard to accomplish—and I wasn’t being cocky.
The pitch flew across home plate. The batter swung and missed as the runner at first base took off. But he was too slow, and we both knew it. I threw the ball hard, watching as it flew directly into the shortstop’s glove, waiting at second base.
He tagged the runner, and the umpire screamed, “Out!” before making a hand gesture, signaling the same.
Cheers erupted from the crowd in the stands, but only two voices stood out from the rest—my mom’s and Danika’s. Her accent was undeniable, and again, I wondered to myself what she was doing here.
The rest of the game sailed by without much fanfare. We kept our lead and won by two runs, which made Coach Jackson happy, but he was still pissed about the errors, reminding us that we’d be working extra on fielding since we apparently didn’t remember how to do it right.
My dad was pretty mad, too, which didn’t happen all that often. He reminded the pitchers that they were there to do a job, and if they couldn’t do it, there were plenty of other guys who would kill for the chance to try.
That was how Division One baseball went. If you fucked up, you got replaced. There was no shortage of guys waiting in the dugout for their shot to steal your position. It wasn’t theirs to win; it was yours to lose.
I always remembered that line.
Mac and I headed toward the locker room. Considering the fact that I was the only one on the team who wore equipment while playing, I was an absolute sweat show by the end of each game. Showering could not wait until I got home like it could for some of the other guys.
“I’ll be five minutes,” I said to Mac before adding, “But you don’t have to wait.”
Usually, I gave Mac a ride home, but sometimes, he went with our other roommates instead.
“I’ll be outside,” he said as he slung a bag over his shoulder before dumping his dirty uniform into the bin.
Our equipment manager washed all of our clothes, which was a perk that I was grateful for. I couldn’t imagine washing my shit and not shrinking it or screwing it up somehow. The school probably knew that, hence the organized guy who handled all of that stuff for each team.
After toweling off and changing into some clean clothes, I headed out to look for my parents. I wondered if Danika would still be around, but I had no idea what she was doing at the game and not in New York in the first place. School didn’t start for a couple more weeks.
Before I exited the locker room, Mac rounded the corner and almost ran straight into me. “Hey, man, Danika’s still here, so I’m gonna catch a ride with Dayton.”
“Oh,” I said through my surprise. “Okay. I’ll see you back at the house. Thanks for the heads-up.”
“I expect a full report.”
“I know you do.” I faked a groan before following him outside.
“Hey, honey,” my mom said with a big smile as soon as I came into view.
Danika stood at her side, talking to my dad, but I noticed the quick look she threw my way. My mom hugged me and then congratulated me on the win and my game.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Look who I found,” my dad announced, his arm wrapped around Danika like he had picked her out special just for me.
“Hey, Little Spitfire,” I said without thinking as the nickname slipped out, and she grinned.
“Hey, Hotshot,” she said back before moving to give me an awkward hug.
Or at least, I was awkward, not knowing where she stood with Jared, seeing her for the first time in months in front of my parents. It was all a little too weird.
“What are you doing here?” I hadn’t meant to sound so confrontational, so I tried to recover. “I mean, I thought you’d be in New York until the semester started.”
“I know, but I came back early,” she said before looking between me and my parents, who now stood, holding each other.
“I can see that. But why?”
“Jesus, Chance, give the girl a break. Be happy she’s here,” my dad said, reminding me that we were having this conversation with an audience. One who wouldn’t keep their opinions to