I rip my phone from my pocket so fast, it fumbles, crashing to the ground. I snatch it up from the dugout floor and don’t even bother wiping the dirt off the screen.
My pulse kicks up—pathetic, maybe, but true.
Grace has finally responded.
GracieLou
“I’m kidding. You know that, right?” Isn’t that what a real serial killer would say?
I lean against the cool chain-link, unable to keep from smiling.
GreenArrow11
I’m not a serial killer.
GracieLou
Said every serial killer ever.
GreenArrow11
Are you speaking from experience?
GracieLou
HAHA. Well played, sir.
I’m still smiling when Lucas jogs back over, his necklaces jingling. “Hey, Coach, you good? Need help locking up?”
“Nah, I got it,” I say, covering my phone. “Good work this week, Fischer.”
He grins. “Same to you, man. And hey, that thing with Jeremy’s dad? That was solid.”
I shrug, uncomfortable with the praise. “Just doing my job.”
“Right. Well, Merry Christmas and all that. Tell your brother congrats on the wedding.”
“Will do. Merry Christmas, Lucas.”
He gives me a two-finger salute then heads out, leaving me alone in the stadium. The second he’s gone, I read Grace’s last message again.
The tightness in my chest from earlier—from Jeremy’s dad, from thinking about Granddad, from dreading going home—has eased.
Maybe I can handle ten days in Rochester after all.
At least I’ll have Grace to talk to.
CHAPTER TWO
POPPY
The old man in front of me in the TSA line looks like he’s one question away from a nervous breakdown.
We’re not even to the front of the line yet.
He looks around nervously, leaning heavily on his wooden cane, and I pretend I don’t notice the deep lines of concern on his face. Instead, I fabricate my own with a worried frown.
“Why do TSA lines always trigger my guilt complex?” I ask him with a fake nervous laugh—fake because I fly all of the time and I got past my guilt complex in airports years ago. (Exposure therapy really is the best antidote to anxiety.) “I’m always going through a mental checklist, yet somehow I still forget my ID until I’m staring the agent in the face.”
