Page 83 of The Sweet Spot

Whit: I didn't, but I doubt she'd say anything that might get her in trouble.

Jess: Good point.

Jess: Did you know they're interviewing your dad at the top of the third?! 💀I can't wait to hear what daddy Marlow has to say about all this.

Wait, is that why he said he'd be here at the top of the fourth?

I'm gonna kill him.

“Hey, Coach.”

I don't have time to think too much about how I'm going to kill my father, because JB's voice fills the air. He's down in the dugout below, and when he starts waving, the fans around me start to cheer. Some even go up and ask for his autograph.

As per usual, he's so accommodating that he signs everything and takes pictures with everyone who asks.

Thankfully, no one recognizes me here so I can just watch my boyfriend in his element and bask in his positivity. Of course, I'd never tell him how attractive I find it. That would go to his head.

When he's finished, he mouths something to me, but honestly, I have no idea what he's saying, so I just nod, and mouth “Good luck.”

“I'm gonna need it,” he shouts, offering me a salute before dropping back down and disappearing under the dugout roof.

I smile, knowing exactly what he's referring to. Little does he know what's waiting for him when he goes up to bat.

Chapter 15

Grabbing my bat, I step out of the dugout and roll my shoulders back.

Come on, JB. You can't embarrass yourself in front of your girl and go 0 for 15.

See ball. Hit ball.

That's all you've got to do.

Tate's at bat, staring down Seattle's pitcher as Dalton waits on deck. I'm right behind him, and with my bat now resting on my shoulders, I stretch my back. A move that I know is probably terrorizing Whit.

After two balls, Tate manages to hit a double, hyping up the crowd.

I just hope I don't ruin it for them.

When Dalton heads to the plate, I move onto the field and glance over the dugout to the spot where Whit's sitting, and smile.

Wearing a catfish ball cap and my jersey, she is the literal manifestation of my dreams. Well, if it were my dream, the jersey would be open and she wouldn't have a bra on, but that's just semantics.

She gives me a small smile as I rest my bat against my thigh and pull my batting gloves out from my back pocket.

As I put them on, I notice they feel a little different, maybe a little stiffer than usual, but I’m not sure.

I flex my hands back and forth, trying to get them to loosen. Then I take my bat and pull it up into swinging position, practicing my swing.

Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.

Whit?

Sniff. Sniff. Sniff.

My head snaps up to the stands, and Whit's watching me with the smallest smile on her face.

Did she?