Unfortunately, my acting job apparently sucks because he catches my reaction and says, “All right then, what did Mr. Baseball suggest?”
Something a lot closer to my answer. “Well, he suggested a small weekend getaway to the mountains,” I say, trying to ignore the couple to our left hanging on our every word. “Rent a cabin, hike a few trails, sit by the fire, that sort of thing.”
Actually, Justin’s exact words were that money didn’t equal happiness, but if ever there was a time to be frivolous, a wedding would be it. Then he spun his romantic version of a honeymoon which seemed to be plucked right out of my own head. It was almost eerie.
Justin didn’t know about my cousin’s recent vacation to Tennessee. He didn’t see the pictures of the big roaring fireplace, the cute little chalet, or the gorgeous waterfalls nearby. He didn’t hear me say that I’d love to go there some day, too. But Cade did.
“Of course he said that.” He huffs with laugher and removes his glasses, closing his eyes as he squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Peyton, why can’t you see—?”
If there is an end to that question, I don’t hear it.
Along with most of the crowd, my attention turns to the ball field. Specifically, to the runner rounding third and sprinting for home.
I’ve never believed in female intuition. To me, sixth sense is merely a weird Bruce Willis movie. But as I watch the runner drop his head and charge ahead like some sort of enraged bull, every hair on my body stands on end. Justin moves into position on homeplate, prepared to catch the ball and tag him out, and a scream builds from somewhere deep within my belly.
The smack of the hit as they collide. The roar from the crowd as we surge to our feet. The cry that rips from my throat. It feels like it takes an eternity.
In reality, it all happens way too fast.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 28TH
1 Week until Graduation
?Senior Year
PEYTON
SWEET SERENITY RANCH 4:22 P.M.
Justin swings the driver’s side door closed with his right hand, his left one hanging limply from a sling. It’s been several days since the accident, and I’ve seen him at school, but I can’t stop staring at his arm. Remembering my mad dash to the field when he didn’t immediately get up. The confusion on Dad’s face when he gently pulled me away, assuring me that Justin would be fine. The hurt simmering in Cade’s eyes.
“Looking good,” I tease, wanting to break the tension. Only, it works against me when that slow, confident smirk forms and I flush to my toes. “How ya feeling?”
He lets out a sigh. “Useless.” Resting his hip against the hood of his Jeep, he gazes out at the paddock. “Your dad’s ban from practice is slowly driving me insane, Sunshine. I can’t even think about them playing the semi-finals without me.”
I know how hard this is for him. Justin lives and breathes baseball. He’s a damn good player, and he’s a leader on the team. Dad only wants to protect him, keep him safe—a concussion and shoulder sprain are nothing to joke about, and it could’ve been so much worse. When he finally sat up, dazed and confused as to what happened, and later threw up after staggering off the field, I thought it was.
Waiting to hear how bad the injury was had been terrifying. I know how much the sport means to Justin. If he’d torn a ligament and couldn’t play again, it would crush him. In the end, he got lucky. The shoulder was sprained, not dislocated or torn, and the concussion mild. Scouts making their final decisions have already seen Justin play. They know these types of injuries and, more importantly, they understand the need to be smart. Missing one game, even the semi-finals, is nothing compared to his future. We’re expected to win anyway, and pushing now could lead to a much greater injury. With adequate rest, combined with cold therapy and eventual light stretching on his shoulder, Justin will be healthy and set to play in next week’s Championship when it counts.
Unfortunately, knowing that doesn’t make sitting out now any easier.
Walking down the porch steps, I smile and say, “So, what, you decided to come by and drive me crazy instead?”
“I thought we could work on our project,” he replies with a smile. A real one this time, not one of his player ones. “We have a few questions left to answer and the next section of our paper to nail down. Besides, I couldn’t spend another second in that empty house.”
I nod because I get it. I’ve heard how quiet that huge place gets when no one else is there. Plus, if I’m being honest, I’m going a little stir-crazy, too. Cade is at his own ranch today—he’s been giving me some space since the game this weekend. Faith has dance practice and Dad, well, he’s at school doing the very thing Justin wishes he was right now. It’s only me, Trevor, and Mama here today.