Wild Pitch

1. HOPE

CHAPTER 1

HOPE

NOVEMBER

S ometimes life throws you a curveball so wild, so unexpected, that you can’t even take a swing at it.

Every year, my college buddies and I get together for Friendsgiving down in Miami, where we met as far back as seven years ago. At least half of the group lives out of state now, which didn’t seem too terrible at first until life happened. We have a nurse, a future orthopedic surgeon, a personal trainer to celebrities, a brand influencer, and more. The one common thread is that basically none of us have work-life balance. Work is life.

I’m one of the worst. As a junior athletic trainer for a professional baseball team, I work twelve-hour days for basically all but two months of the year. Friendsgiving is essentially the start of that down season for me, and I look forward to it every year.

Sun, good food, drinks, and friends gathered together in the McMansion owned by the hosts, Kelly and Mitch. It sits by a lake and if that wasn’t enough, it also boasts an infinity pool courtesy of Mitch’s banker salary.

There’s only one downside to Friendsgiving: Dawson Clark. A.k.a. my one and only ex boyfriend.

I park my yellow Jeep a few houses down from the McMansion because every spot in its vicinity is taken. Turning the rearview mirror my way, I’m met by a shocking view. Maybe leaving the roof off during the entire drive down from Orlando was a bad idea, especially when paired with keeping my hair untied. I make a weak attempt to comb it with my fingers and give up pretty quickly. I’m diving right into the pool after this, so what’s the point?

After hopping out of the car, I pluck my overnight bag from the backseat and hoist it over my shoulder. One of Daddy Yankee’s classics about evil exes plays in my head and I whistle it as I head over to the McMansion.

Okay, Dawson isn’t some two-bit villain from a song, and I’m not secretly pining for him or anything. Since we originally started out as friends from this group, we decided to remain friends for the sake of the collective. Too bad I kind of lied when I said I was cool with it, because I want to punch him in the neck every time I see him.

“It’s fine,” I tell myself as I ring the McMansion’s doorbell. “I’m fine, everything’s fine. It’ll be fun.”

Pool. Cocktail. Those mini quiches Kelly makes. Catching up with everybody else. Clubbing with Amy later. Ignoring Dawson. Two days of this is totally doable.

The door swings open and there’s Kelly with her wide pageant smile, blonder hair than usual framing her face, and the biggest pregnant belly I’ve ever seen. She spreads her arms wide and brings me for a tight hug. “Hope, you’re here!”

“Wait.” I try to push away but homegirl must be seriously working out because I can’t. “Your belly?—”

“I know! It’s one of the biggest news this year.” Finally, she frees me to frame her belly with loving hands. With her floral dress and perfect makeup, she looks like a model for a southern magazine. “I was waiting for everyone to be together to break it—the news, I mean, not water.”

I blink. It takes me a second to get the joke and I snort. “Well, congratulations. You’re positively glowing.”

“Thank you.” She hooks her arm with mine and pulls me into the foyer, where she calls out, “Hope is here!”

Music drifts from the backyard along with the smell of burgers on the grill. A few voices cheer for my arrival, while others continue their chatter. I don’t know if it’s just me but there seem to be more people than usual, which probably means some people found significant others since last year.

Vaguely, I wonder if Dawson is one of them. How should I react to that?

I tune out most of Kelly’s tale about the pool upgrades—now with an integrated jacuzzi!—while I try to search for an answer. I can’t find it in me to be happy for Dawson, even if his new beau turns out to be sweeter than sugar. In theory that would mean he found someone better than me while I’m still super single. Not exactly a palatable prospect.

But then, I also can’t show any sort of negative reaction in front of the group. That would make things weird—and weird is what we’ve been trying to avoid so carefully.

I realize I’m looking down at the floor when a pair of men’s boat shoes attached to some legs appear in front of me. My eyes rise and I have to stifle the relieved sigh when it turns out to only be Mitch.

“Wow, you look like garbage” is my greeting to him.

Sighing, he says, “Hope to see you too.” He blinks slowly as if half asleep on his feet, which checks out with the dark circles around his eyes.

I don’t have the heart to ask what he even meant and instead turn my attention to his wife. “Is work killing him?”

“No, I am.” She smiles.

“She tosses and turns all night when she’s sleeping. Or wakes me up with some weird craving.” Mitch offers me a one-armed hug before shifting to drop a kiss on Kelly’s forehead. “I’m going upstairs to take a nap. You’re in charge.”

“Always.” She pats his butt as he wades away and I shake my head, trying to mask all the feelings roiling in my stomach.

Mitch and Kelly were the other couple from the friend group. I really thought I’d have what they have by now—the McMansion, the college sweetheart husband, and a little one on the way.

Instead, I’m single because all I do is work, yet the money’s not enough to afford even a condo so I’m forced to live with roommates. At this pace, I should just marry my student loans because they seem to be the only constant in my life.

“Hope, is that you?”

I know that voice. I drop my duffel bag on the living room floor and pick up the pace toward the French doors. Bare feet pitter patter on the terracotta tiles until Amy McFadden, my college roommate and bestie, appears in all her bikini glory. Squealing, she launches herself at me as she usually does.

We both giggle and stumble, but my quads don’t lie. I hold us steady until she pulls away and gives me a once over. “Va va boom, mamacita. You look hot.”

“Pfff.” My face heats up. There’s nothing hot about a ratty baseball T-shirt, old shorts and Crocs that have seen better days, my go-to outfit for a comfortable three-hour-plus drive. Rather than explain all that, I divert the attention back to her. “No, you look hot.”

“I do, don’t I?” Her smile morphs into a lip bite and a furtive glance at Kelly. “Did you tell her the news?”

Behind me, the hostess says, “No, I’ll leave that up to you.”

“Ah.” Somehow Amy seems disappointed.

“What news?” I cock an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant too.” Her stomach looks as flat as ever, but maybe she’s just found out. It’d be funny if my two closest girl friends from college are pregnant at the same time. And by funny I mean weird. I can’t picture the same for me right now.

“Ha, no. It’s less exciting, I guess.”

“I sure hope that’s the case.” Kelly clears her throat. “Anyway, I think the cheeseburgers are ready, anyone want one?”

Amy runs a hand through her caramel brown hair, enhanced by expensive highlights. I know that tidbit because she’s been dying it at the same upscale salon in Miami Beach since college. And for some reason, she’s now avoiding my gaze.

“Why are you two acting weird all of a sudden?” I ask.

“Mojito as usual?” Kelly volleys back at me instead, fully knowing I’m a rum girlie.

I tuck my tongue against my cheek and fold my arms, because clearly I’m becoming my dad and these two are acting like my brother and I when we were hiding something.

Kelly drops the hostess act, maybe even the happy act, because her pretty face twists into an expression of unfiltered annoyance. “Just tell her, Amy. It’s better that she finds out now from you than from everybody else.”

When Amy starts biting her lip, I know whatever this is about can’t be good. I don’t change the Dad pose because it’s already making them crack, but meanwhile I run through every possible scenario in my mind. Is Amy moving out of state? Or is she sick? Did her crush on my brother come back? No, that one can’t be. He’s been happily married for years now.

“What?” I all but bark when I can’t take the silence or my theorizing anymore. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Boy, this must be big because Amy takes a shuddering breath and hugs herself before even opening her mouth. “The thing is?—”

“Hey.”

We all freeze at the new voice.

It sounds just like it did all those years ago, like a surfer boy who is cool and in no hurry to show it off. Worse still, nothing else has changed. That’s the same mop of blond curls on his head, the toothpaste commercial smile, the same brown eyes that glint under the sunlight, and the tanned body that tells me he still plays water sports year-round.

Dawson.

“Hi,” I respond curtly.

And then I zero in on the one thing that has changed. His arm snakes around Amy’s waist, pulling her against him to rest his hand low at her hip. Possessive. The same way he used to hold me for years.

No one needs to say anything else. I get it now. And however I react will dictate the course of this weekend—maybe beyond.

I take a moment to process this, even if it feels like every pair of eyes is fixed on me. My mouth tastes odd, and I wish I could wash that down with the mojito I wasn’t quick enough to accept.

The bitterness rankles deep into my soul, not just because Amy has broken some kind of girl code that I can’t formulate coherently right now. But also Dawson’s gesture is a blatant attack on the delicate balance we struck for two years. He is the one shitting on the group dynamic, but if I make that clear by showing any displeasure, he’ll blame me for the awkwardness that is already ensuing in my silence.

This is why I’m glad that he dumped my ass—yeah, even though I was the dumpee. It made it feel very final and that distance from him allowed me to start seeing his true colors. He’s a master manipulator and now it seems like Amy is his new victim. I feel sorry for her just as much as I’m pissed at her.

Knowing there’s only one course of action, I turn to an annoyed Kelly and hook my arm with hers again. “Let’s go make that mojito.”

“Great, I bought the rum you like!”

“Cacique?” I gasp in an exaggerated way. “You sure know the way to my heart.”

We leave the new couple behind us, but it doesn’t mean I’m not boiling on the inside. For the first time I wish I hadn’t joined this Friendsgiving, and I vow that next year I’m going to bring a new damn boyfriend that will erase the pity on everybody’s faces.