the team, his name is Dennis. He’s smaller than all the other boys, pretty clumsy, always loses his helmet, is the kid whose clothes are entirely too big, and he gets distracted by butterflies, but oh my God, he loves the sport so much. He always shows up to practice with the biggest smile on his face and a willingness to work hard. He’s the kid you tell to run faster and instead of moving his legs quicker, his arms pump harder.”
I laugh out loud, picturing the little guy in my head. “He sounds like my kind of player.”
“He’s adorable, but he’s struggled on the field with pretty much every aspect of the game. It hurts my heart, watching him try to keep up, but he gives it his all. I’ve given him some extra attention with the bat and it finally paid off this weekend.”
“Did he get his first hit?” I ask, feeling excited for Dennis, even though I don’t know him.
Milly nods and leans her head to the side so it’s resting against her knee, her expression wistful as she stares back at me.
Fuck, she really is beautiful. “He did. It was a soft blooper over the first baseman’s head. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such pure joy on a little boy’s face. When he got back to the dugout, he gave me the biggest hug. I might have teared up.”
“Damn, Milly. That’s getting me emotional. Look at you helping ballplayers all over the place.”
“I know your success is vital, especially right now being in the middle of the season and the draft right around the corner, but deep down I always knew you’d find your swing again. You just needed slight reprograming. But Dennis”—she shakes her head—“I wasn’t sure if the guy was ever going to get a hit despite how hard he tried. I mean, when he finally made contact with the ball, his face was so shocked he almost forgot to run to first base. It was probably one of my best coaching moments ever.”
“That’s amazing, Milly. If I were you, I’d be really proud. You made an impact on Dennis. And maybe he won’t be playing in the big leagues one day, but there’s one thing you taught him. If you work hard, you will make things happen.”
“It’s what my dad always taught me.” She chews on another M&M. “I remember when I was twelve and my room was full of baseball tutorial books and scoresheets. My dad asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. I told him I wanted to coach. He told me it would be hard, to break the mold, that I would run across people who would believe a woman had no business being in men’s sports, but to continue to persist and follow my dream. I forget about that sometimes, the persistence it takes to accomplish what I want, but Dennis reminded me of that this weekend. I didn’t just help him; he helped me too.”
It’s hard not to stare at this woman in complete awe right now. I’ve never met anyone like her, so grounded, so down to earth. Every girl I’ve met in college, with the exception of some of my guys’ girls, have seemed so one-dimensional with little substance. Milly is the furthest thing from that. She has layers with a tough exterior, almost like the M&M’s we’re eating. Hard on the outside, soft and sweet on the inside.
I want to reach out and touch her, put my arm around her, tell her how amazing she is, but I also don’t want to freak her the fuck out. She’s already a little weirded out by my late-night visit, and if I want Milly, which I think I do, I’ll have to take things slow with her. She just snuck up on me. Weeks ago, I didn’t know she existed, and yet now, after such a short time of knowing her, I can’t imagine my life without her. She brings light . . . genuine honesty. My mind has only been focused on baseball, with good reason, but now I want both baseball and this girl. I want Milly. I want this girl to be mine. But making a move on her now wouldn’t be wise.
“Is that what you want to do after college? Coach?”
“Yes. My brothers own a training facility, and they’re expanding. I’m putting together a proposal to add individual coaching facilities as well. I’ve been working on it during my