CHAPTERONE
Thwack!
The red-stitched neon yellow ball lifted off the edge of the bat and sailed straight toward the blazing sun.
Metal bleachers screeched a protest asRoseMcAllisterwatched the play, then stood up, ball cap tugged low over sunglasses to counter the blinding afternoon light.Cuppingher hands around her mouth, she shouted across the field.
“Ginny!Yougottawatchthe ball, hun.Thatsun’s not gonna catch it for you!”
Out in right field,Ginnyhalf-turned, glove poised, head tilted upward.
The ball landed about five feet behind her, rolling to the fence whereAllie, playing backup, scooped it clean and zipped it toward second.
The dugout erupted in a chorus of “Oooohs!”—half good-natured ribbing, half actual coaching critique.
Rose kept her game face on.Herplayers knew better than to mistake her humor for leniency.Afew had even learned that lesson the hard way.Usuallyafter a few laps around the bases
But you didn’t run the best women’s slow-pitch softball team inHardinCountyby being soft.Andshe was determined to win the regional competition this year.Alittle push now might be the magic ingredient to make that happen.Lastyear had been so close she’d been almost physically ill when they’d lost by one run in the end.
She still couldn’t hear the words “pop fly” without wanting to throw something.
“Okay, hustle up!”Rosecalled.“Backto positions.Let’srun it again!”
Bats clinked as players swapped spots.Danijogged to shortstop, flipping her glove in the air and catching it without looking.Maggieambled toward third with all the enthusiasm of someone heading for a dental appointment.
“Move it,Mags!”Rosebarked.
Maggie shot her a look over her shoulder.“Youcan’t rush art,Coach.”
Rose smirked despite herself.“It’snot art if it ends up in the dirt.”
On the next hit,Alliecracked a low liner that zipped right past second base.Danidove for it, glove outstretched and managed to stop the ball from getting to the outfield, though she landed in a cloud of dust big enough to make the first baseman cough.
“That’s whatI’mtalkin’ about!”Roseshouted.“Nicestop,Dani!”
“Okay!Let’sswitch up players.Iwant everyone running all the drills.”
Ginny, the team’s youngest player, jogged off the field with a sheepish grin, stopping at the foot of the bleachers.“Sorry,Coach.”
“Don’ttellme,”Rosesaid, tossing her an ice-cold bottle of water from the cooler at her feet.“Justshowme you can keep your glove outta your hair next time.”
AsGinnynodded, cracked the bottle of water and trotted to the dugout,Roseturned back toward the field, shielding her eyes from the sun.Eventhe hat and sunglasses weren’t cutting the glare.Thislate in the afternoon the angle was near impossible to defeat.Addin the breathless quality of the air and it was a recipe for sweat and short tempers.
TheJuneheat lay over the field like a thick, wet blanket—humid, unrelenting, and familiar in the way only aSouthernsummer could be.Somewherebeyond the outfield fence, cicadas droned their summer chorus, and a whiff of fresh-cut grass mixed with the dusty scent of the infield.
“Alright, ladies!”Rosecalled, clapping her hands.“Let’srun it again—outfielders, talk to each other out there!Ifyou lose it in the sun, call it so the next gal can take over!”
The next batter stepped up, kicking a little red dirt over the white chalk line of the batter’s box.Rosewatched her settle in, the faint tang of leather and dust in the air.Thecicadas had restarted their droning chorus in the trees beyond the fence, blending with the distant hum of boat engines from the lake a half-mile away.
Crack!Theball soared toward deep left.
“Yours,Amber!”someone hollered.Ambercharged forward, snagged it mid-bounce, and rifled it to second in one smooth motion.
“Nice hustle!”Roseshouted.Shewiped sweat from the back of her neck with a small towel, then perched on the top bleacher rail for a better view.
Bats cracked, gloves popped, and a few muttered curses drifted across the diamond as the infield ran a double-play drill.
This field, these women, thisteam—they were hers.Steady.Dependable.Thethings she’d come to rely on as must haves in her life.Andshe’d built it from scratch over time.
