“I spent years letting that secret fester.Lettingsomeone else, someoneIonce trusted, hold it over me.ButI’mdone with that.I’mdone being ashamed of what happened to me.I’mdone pretendingI’msomeoneI’mnot.”
She looked around at the people gathered.
“I’mRoseMcAllister.I’mnot perfect.I’vemade mistakes.ButI’vealso baked your birthday cakes, and coached your kids, and stayed in this town becauseIlove it.Becauseit’smytown, too.AndIwon’t let anyone shame me out of it again.”
Applause started on the left side of the bleachers, slow but strong.
Then it grew.
Until the whole crowd was on their feet.
Cheering.
Clapping.
Whistling.
Even a few tears.
Rose blinked hard, smiling despite the tears pricking her eyes.
When the noise finally settled, she added with a shaky laugh, “Nowif you’ll excuse me,I’vegot a game to play and a team to coach.”
Cheers followed her as she stepped down, her knees weak, her hands trembling but her heartclear.
Acen met her at the bottom of the stairs.
“You were incredible,” he said.
“I was terrified.”
“That’s what makes it brave.”
She looked up at him.“Itdoesn’t fix everything.”
“No,” he said.“Butit starts something new.”
He held out his hand.
She took it.
Behind them, the lights flickered on over the field.
The game was about to begin.
CHAPTER FORTY
The field was alive with energy.
Rose stood on first base, her glove in hand, her cleats planted in the worn red clay.Thebleachers were packed, the lights buzzing overhead, and laughter drifted from the concession table where kids clutched frosted cupcakes and drippy popsicles.
“Alright, ladies,”Tashahollered from the pitcher’s mound.“Let’sshow ‘em how slow pitch is done.Withstyle, sass, and a little scandal.”
Laughter rippled through the infield.
Dani smirked from shortstop.“Speakfor yourself.I’mjust here for the post-game margaritas.”
Rose grinned, relaxed for the first time in weeks.
