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Going to that funeral had been difficult. I held no kind feelings for the man who’d abused and neglected Corey throughout his childhood, and I certainly didn’t mourn his loss. I didn’t know how Corey would react to his death. Despite all the bad, Luke Johnson was his dad. Family bonds made things complicated, especially when grief was involved.
But he’d showed no grief. No anger. No sadness.
I remember observing Corey as he stood under the large oak tree that shaded the Johnson family burial plots. It was the first time I ever saw him look completely at peace. It was as if the last weight of his miserable childhood had been lifted off his shoulders with his father’s death. Corey was no longer burdened by his past. His future seemed to be all that mattered now.
The top of the ninth ends after the Lonestars score one run, increasing their lead to two before Kendrick strikes out, and the Texas team retakes the field.
Knowing we have a minute before play resumes, I turn to Morgan and ask, “I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s the job hunt going?”
She groans. “Not good. I haven’t heard back from any of the local teams.”
Morgan passed her certification to become a Registered Dietician at the beginning of summer, and she’s been applying to jobs for months now. It sucks that she hasn’t found one yet.
I try to be optimistic. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the right job will come along when you least expect it.”
“Or,” Carter chimes in, leaning so his head is between ours. “You can finally take me up on my offer to introduce you to the Rough Riders’ nutritionist.”
“And work for you?” Morgan scoffs. “Never in a million years.”
“It would be indirectly working for me,” Carter points out. “And I’ll have you know I’m a great boss. Isn’t that right Valerie?” He looks at the pretty nanny next to him, but she’s staring straight ahead. A harsh frown pulls on her lips, and she doesn’t say a word.
Morgan and I share a curious look before my best friend clears her throat and moves the conversation along. “I’m still holding out hope for the Ranchers,” she names the local hockey team. “I’ll even be happy working for their farm team. I just need a foot in the door.”
“You’ll get one,” I pat her leg reassuringly. “I know it.”
“Shh. Girls. Corey’s about to pitch.” Morgan and I fall silent at my mom’s words and focus on the game.
Fifteen minutes later, the Lonestars need two more outs to win. They still lead by two, but there are Loons players on first and third. If the batter gets a hit, there’s a very real chance the team will score. If it’s a home run, they take the lead and win the game.
My knee bounces in nervous anticipation. My mom and dad mumble prayers under their breath. Carter and Valerie aresilent. They haven’t spoken since that odd interaction after he mentioned a job to Morgan.
Morgan, by contrast, is leaning over my and my mom’s lap, talking to the twins about the latest episode of their favorite superhero cartoon show. She’s never been good when stressed. Avoidance is my best friend’s favorite strategy.
Corey winds up and throws a fastball.
CRACK.
The batter hits the ball. It’s a bullet right over the first baseline. Joshua dives low and catches it in his glove. The batter is out, but the player who was on first base makes it to second.
“One more,” I mutter. “Just one more.”
Corey rolls his shoulder as he walks back to the mound. The next batter walks up. Greg kneels behind the plate and begins signaling ball options. Corey rejects the first and second signals, nodding at the third.
The entire stadium holds its breath. All eyes are on Corey.
He throws a curve ball.
Strike.
The next one is a fastball.
Strike.
“He’s going to do it!” Mom grabs my arms and shakes it excitedly. “Corey’s going to strike him out!”
Please let that be true.
Corey winds up. My heart races. He throws. The batter swings.
