Page 28 of Big Dill

“It’s not really what I expected. Everyone is so nice.”

His grin widens. “Did you expect us to be ogres or something?”

“Or something,” I say and he nudges me.

We move past an empty space with newspaper over the windows. “What’s in here?”

“TBD.”

To be determined.

I laugh and when he stops walking just past the vacant building, and I stop with him. He stands back and glances up and I do the same, and read the big green sign. Pickle Ball Falls Social.

“This is it?” I ask.

There’s genuine pride in his eyes when he asks, “Ready?” I nod and he pulls open the door. Hand on the small of my back, he guides me in, and the second I’m inside the warm building and do a fast glance around, assessing my surroundings, my jaw drops open.

The Pickleball Social isn’t just a place to swing a paddle. From my first glance, it’s easy to tell it’s a hub, a pulse of community energy with layers of comfort and activity. The main courts take up the heart of the space, glossy floors shining under the high, airy ceiling. The rhythmic thwack of paddles against plastic balls punctuates the room, mixing with bursts of laughter and cheers that echo off the walls. Lines of sunlight slice through tall windows, dust motes dancing in the golden beams, casting everything in a warm, inviting glow.

I turn, cataloging the rest of the space. Along one side, a smoothie bar hums with quiet efficiency. The scent of fresh fruit—mango, berries, bananas—blends with the earthy undertone of spinach and kale. Behind the counter, I spot Jaxon, back to me as blenders whirl in a smooth, hypnotic rhythm.

I lift my head, and upstairs, a lounge area opens onto a balcony overlooking the courts. Plush couches and tables invite casual conversation, phones tucked away as people sip drinks, cheer friends, or catch their breath. The air carries a faint trace of lavender from discreet diffusers, mixing with the ever-present hum of sneakers on wood and the fruity sweetness drifting up from the smoothie bar.

With his hand still on my back, Brody guides me along the perimeter. Off to the sides, quieter spaces exist for focus and mindfulness, or gentle stretching, the scent of eucalyptus signaling calm.

This place…it’s where action and leisure coexist, where people come for competition, community or just a moment of quiet in a busy world.

“Brody,” I breathe out, and his eyes are wide, full of pride as I look up at it. “I knew it was a pickleball ball social, but this…it’s so much more. I…I love it.”

“This is your space,” he says and guides me into the yoga room. My chest tightens and tears press against my eyes as I take it in.

“You guys…did this for me?”

“We wanted your space to be welcoming. We wanted you to feel like you belonged here, Jami. Even if it’s only for a few months.”

Unable to help myself, I throw my arms around him, breathe in the scent of his skin as I hold him tight. I once thought only my brother could make me feel safe and secure, but I was wrong.

“You like it, right?”

There’s a hint of worry in his voice. I lift my head and sniff, pressing my lips together until I trust my voice.

“It’s beautiful,” I manage, and the words feel too small for what’s swelling in my chest.

“Good.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder and inches back, like staying any closer might crack something open he’s been carefully holding together. “I’m going to go talk to Jaxon. Why don’t you take your time, find your way around your new space. Get a feel for it.”

I swallow hard, nodding. “Okay.”

I let my arms fall to my sides, suddenly unsure what to do with them. He pauses just for a second, like he’s checking to make sure I’m steady. When I nod again, he turns and disappears down the hall.

I walk the room slowly, letting it unfold around me. The mats are stacked neatly in the corner, still smelling faintly of rubber and new beginnings. The mirrors stretch along the wall, clean and bright, waiting to reflect something more than my own uncertainty. My heart beats harder with every step.

They did this for me.

The realization warms me in a way I’m not familiar with and I have to stop walking. I step up to one of the mirrors and take in my glassy eyes. That’s when someone slows outside the door.

I swipe at my cheeks quickly and turn, pasting on a smile. “Hey,” I say, my voice lighter than I feel, even though I am happy. Genuinely. My heart feels full in a way it hasn’t in a long time, standing in a space that is actually all mine. Tristan and Lucy can’t take this away from me.

“We’re so excited to have you here,” a girl about my age says, hovering in the doorway like she doesn’t want to intrude.