Page 139 of The Fall Classic

I tuck my face against his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heart.

I realize for the first time that I’m no longer cold. I’m not lonely or wondering what it would be like to be loved the way Ava is.

I’m wondering if I’ll be able to love the way Logan’s offering.

As the song switches and we keep dancing, our bodies moving in unison even as our minds go in their own directions, I make myself a promise: I will try.

I’ll try to be the woman Logan deserves, try to be someone who lets myself ache when he’s gone and get excited when he calls, believing the hurt will be worth it.

I lift my head from his shoulder and he inclines his head down. I’m always excited to kiss him, but I let myself feel every sensation, reveling in the warm, heady breath between us, the flutter of anticipation before our lips meet, the flash of headlights sweeping over us⁠—

“Looks like a pumpkin just turned into the party,” one of Ava’s aunts jokes next to us.

I’m already turning toward the source of the light when Logan’s lips land on my cheek. He makes a low groaning sound. “What timing.”

But I don’t look back to him. Because the “pumpkin” Ava’s aunt mentioned is a big orange Jeep with the name of the rideshare service in bold letters in the window.

Logan’s phone buzzes.

“It’s my car,” he says, putting his chin on my head and seeming to slump over. “I’m sorry, Georgie.”

“It’s okay,” I say, my throat throbbing. “I’m excited for you. I’ll cheer you on every day, and I promise I’ll count down the days until you’re back.”

“Hopefully I’ll be back with a ring—World Series Ring,” he adds, his face red hot.

My heart and throat and eyes and nose are all stinging, and normally, I would shut down these feelings, but, instead I let them swell in me, pulling energy from my limbs into my heart, which pulses painfully, making me all too aware of how weak I am when Logan brushes his lips across mine and says, “I love you.”

I try to cling to him, but I don’t have the strength to wrap my fingers around his lapels or do anything but let him hold my hand outstretched between us as he backs up.

“I love you, too,” I say, and he smiles, like it’s enough.

And then I watch him walk down from the platform, cross the yard, and escape into the orange Jeep and disappear into the dark autumn night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Logan

I’m in a flotation tank in Chicago, but my mind is 800 miles away in Mullet Ridge, still thinking about Georgie in that burgundy dress and the way her hair spilled down her bare shoulder and how badly I wanted to move her hair away and kiss her soft, smooth skin.

My heart rate spikes just remembering how she felt in my arms, how badly I wanted to run my lips across her neck⁠—

Man, this sensory deprivation stuff is doing nothing for me today.

I exit the tank early.

Maybe throwing will help.

As soon as I get to the facilities and start warming up, though, it’s clear nothing is going to help. My knuckleballs are too wild and my fastballs are too sloppy.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jake asks after I finish throwing practice. He finds me in the locker room and snaps a towel at my butt as he walks by me on the way back from the shower. “You were a mess out there.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll be sharp tomorrow. Don’t worry.”

“You’d better be. Coop and I are on a tear. Get your head in the game, Fischer.”

“Gee, what a great idea,” I say.

Normally a rookie without a permanent roster spot would never mouth off to one of baseball’s top hitters, but Jake almost ruined my brother’s career. He can suck eggs.