Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
ERIKA
Wednesday
Josh and I had stomped around each other ever since he exploded two days ago at the PTA meeting.
I tried texting him—nothing. He left for farm calls in the morning or scooted out at the end of the day before I could find him.
Bottom line: he didn’t want to talk about it.
I couldn’t tell if that meant he didn’t want to be a part of the expansion, or if he was still overwhelmed by the thought of it.
Marty thought he was angry over the fines from the inspection.
Well, he couldn’t avoid me when we were trapped in a car riding to his baseball tryout.
Vinny chatted nonstop with Josh about major league baseball stats the entire ride. At least the kid could drag a few laughs out of him.
When we pulled into a parking lot next to a field attached to a community college, I could tell Josh was nervous. His face was tight. “Listen, Erika, I can’t be at war with you here.”
“Are you talking about when I called you a jerkwad for not ordering the specific catheters I wanted yesterday? Or the fact you’re behaving like a child and won’t talk to me about the future of our practice?
” I got out into the waning light of dusk.
The lights were already on to spotlight the field.
“Vinny, can you please enlighten him on the Chomping family agreement?”
“Are we including him?”
“For tonight.” I leaned into the car to glare at Josh.
“Make sure he understands it’s only for tonight.
” I shut the door and headed to the truck bed to get out my chair.
I’d learned my lesson about baseball practices from Vinny’s.
Always bring your own chair. I pulled two out of the back and a blanket.
Vinny got out, still mid-speech. “Means if anyone asks, from her view you poop golden baseballs and hit rainbow unicorns. Or maybe it’s the other way around.”
I smiled at Josh who was trying not to chuckle as Vinny continued to try to figure out if he should be hitting rainbow baseballs or golden unicorns.
“We gotcha,” I interrupted Vinny. “You get your stuff and let Josh go on to get registered or whatever he needs to do.”
By the time we arrived at the field, Josh was already shaking hands with the person I assumed to be the coach. The guy had a thick mustache and receding brown hairline, but it didn’t hide the fact he had to be the same age as Josh.
A brunette woman in black spandex exercise pants and a tight blue sweatshirt held out her hand. “I’m Meghan. I’m Reno’s wife. He’s the coach. You’re with that guy, right?” She pointed at Josh.
“Yes, we’re here with Josh Hurst.”
She tucked a hair that had strayed from her tight ponytail behind an ear. “They’ll do some warmups first. Since this is a tryouts day, they’ll split up into two teams and play five innings.”
“That sounds fun to watch.” I was glad Josh would get some real play time with people of his age instead of a bunch of kids.
“Then we have a dinner picnic. Hope you brought something for the potluck.”
“I knew I brought those cookies for a reason.” Marty had offered to make her famous double chocolate chip for me so that we would have something to bribe our way onto the team. No one turned down her cookies.
“Here’s the packet of information.” Meghan shoved a thick manilla envelope into my hand. “If he’s selected for the team, review the dates of the tournaments. There’s also information on the uniform and the cost for joining and all that.”
I took the manilla envelope, unsure if it was okay for me to be taking it for him. “What about work conflicts? He also coaches a kids travel team that has some weekend tournaments.”
“Part of the commitment is that he can only miss four tournaments in the season.” Meghan offered a tired but genuine smile, the kind that tried to hide how stretched thin she was. “I’m really glad you guys made it. Reno is excited to find a new catcher. Have fun, okay?”
“Thanks.” I directed Vinny to a spot off to the side near the third base dugout. We watched them toss and do a few drills.
A half hour later—teams sorted, rules shouted, dust settling—Josh ended up in the dugout closest to us.
His team was batting first. The first few guys in the lineup managed decent hits, nothing special, just enough to push the nerves higher.
From where I sat, I could read the batting order taped to the fence. Josh was in the hole next.
The rush that went through me… I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed watching him at the plate, the way the entire field seemed to tilt toward him when he stepped up.
He should be getting his hitting gear on, like his elbow pad and ankle guard. Instead, he sat rigid on the bench, elbows on his knees, hands clenched so tight his knuckles were white.
Oh, hell no. He was not going to fall apart now. Not after everything.
I pushed up from my canvas chair and marched straight to the dugout. I leaned in and gave a sharp whistle.
His head snapped up, eyes locking on mine, startled and already spiraling.
I crooked a finger, calling him over.
He closed in on me, voice rough. “What’re you doing? Did you get a call? Do you need to go?”
“No,” I said, breath tight with urgency. “I need to tell you something.”
When he came within reach, I caught his shirt over the low fence and tugged him in until his chest struck the rail.
“Josh.” I held him there and waited until his eyes finally found mine.
“This is it. You were made for this. Tonight isn’t a fluke.
It’s a second chance. A gift. Moments like this don’t circle back.
If you let fear rule, it’ll haunt you every time you hear a bat crack for the rest of your life.
” I leaned in, voice dropping to steel. “Go. Step into that box… and end it.”
I let go of him. The dugout had gone silent—dead, stunned—as I turned and walked off, already knowing I’d just lit a fuse and there was no taking it back.
“What’d you say to him?” Vinny asked when I dropped back into my seat.
“I told him not to strike out.”
Vinny snorted. “Sounded like a lot more words than that.” He went back to carving lines in the orange dirt with his toe.
“The bases are loaded,” I said, because saying it out loud made it real. “Look. He’s up.” I pointed.
Josh glanced over before stepping into the box. Just a flicker of a look, but the corner of his mouth twitched, like something I’d said might’ve landed.
My heart kicked hard enough to hurt.
Please, I prayed. Just give him this one. He needs it.
The first pitch smacked leather. He didn’t flinch. Ball one.
The second broke late and mean. He swung clean through it. Strike one.
I dug my fingers into the canvas chair and didn’t breathe. Everything hung on the next pitch.
He dropped his shoulder.
This was it.
The bat cracked—sharp, violent—and the ball lifted, climbing past the infield into the outfield.
Holy shit.
Vinny giggled. I’d definitely said that out loud. I snatched his hand and slapped my other palm over my eyes. “Did it clear the fence? I can’t—”
“Hit the fence,” Vinny said, breathless. “Right in the hole. He’s getting two. Two runners came in.”
My chest burned as I finally looked. Josh slid into second, dirt streaking his pants, jaw set like he’d just ripped something loose inside himself.
The next batter went down swinging. Inning over.
When Josh jogged back toward the dugout, he flashed me a grin—cocky, charged, alive.
I lifted a finger and pointed at him, face hard, unyielding. Not done, my look said. Don’t you dare lose the edge.