Page 61 of The Triple Play

I drink the water I got when Kyle went for his second beer after the fourth inning, and I nod. “I can see that.” Then I straighten as Griffin and Denver take the field once more. “Is Denver going to pitch the entire game?” I ask, trying to affect a casual tone of voice.

“He might,” Kyle says. “He’s been on fire, so he hasn’t actually thrown that many pitches. Normally, they’ll let one guy keep going if he’s doing well, unless they need to save his arm for a future game or his pitch count is getting high.”

Partway through the inning, Kyle leans over and points to the space at the back of the field. “See the bullpen back there? That’s where the pitchers warm up. I just saw someone get up and start throwing, so my guess is they’ll take Foxxy out soon.”

“Why? He’s doing so well,” I say indignantly.

“Geez, don’t get mad at me. I’m just saying it’s possible.”

I lean back. “Sorry.”

My brother just quirks his eyebrow up at me in that way he does whenever he thinks he knows more than me. “You’re a lot more invested in this than I thought you would be, sis. I kinda figured you’d whip out a book partway through the game.”

The top of the inning ends with Denver striking out all three players who step up to bat. As the Thunder jog off the field, he glances up at the stands, and his gaze lands right on mine. My heart stutters when I see his lips curve upward in a crooked grin, and he nods his head in our direction.

“Do you want to take my car back to the apartment after the game? I’m gonna go out for a drink with the guys.”

I blink away from where Denver was just standing and turn to my brother. “Oh. You are?”

He nods, relaxing back in his seat. “Yeah. I assume you’d rather not come.”

That would be the wise decision. “Sure, I’ll drive it home.”

The bottom half of the inning starts off, and Griffin is second up to bat. It’s clear he’s as methodical at bat as he is in everything else. He’s steady, relaxed, and focused on the pitcher. The first two pitches are kind of wild, even to my untrained eye, and Griffin doesn’t flinch. The third seems to be good, but he still doesn’t take a swing, and when the umpire calls ball three, I’m not the only one impressed.

“Damn, I could’ve sworn that was a strike. I swear, Griff has the best eye,” Kyle comments.

Eyes that see everything. Eyes that burn, and smoulder, and delve deep into my soul.

I fight back a shudder as I clench my thighs together. Just then, there’s a loud crack, and Griffin starts to run.

“Holy shit, is it? Oh my god, it is! Fuck yeah, Griff!” Kyle leaps out of his seat, along with most of the stadium, as the ball sails over the fencing in the far left corner of the field. Griffin pumps his fist in the air and slows his pace as he takes the bases in the first home run of the game. As he crosses home plate, his wide grin lights up his face. His teammates surge toward him, and I blink back tears.

Why the heck am I getting emotional? This is literally what he does every day.

But seeing it, witnessing his brilliance, has me feeling things I have no business feeling. Like pride and a sense of ownership, like that’s one of my guys who did that.

Except he’s not my guy. He’s not anything more than a man with whom I lived out a fun fantasy.

Twice.

The rest of the game is a blur. The Thunder win easily, and after the crowd has started to leave the stands, Kyle jogs down the few steps to the netting. “Foxxy! Griff!” he shouts, and I see two of the players turn and look in our direction.

Denver nods his head in our direction, but someone else catches Griffin’s attention and he turns the other way.

No, I won’t let myself feel disappointed by that.

Denver jogs over with a wide grin. “KJ!” he says, lifting his hand to slap my brother’s waiting one. “Thanks for coming.” He turns his smile on me, and it lights me up inside. “Hey, Pixie.”

Is it me or did his voice take on a deeper tone when he said that? I nervously glance at Kyle, but if he heard anything different, he’s not saying anything.

“So, what did you think?” It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to me, not my brother.

“Of what?” I answer dumbly.

“The game, silly.” He laughs, and the warm sound sends me right back to the cabin.

“It was a lot of fun,” I answer honestly. Denver huffs on his fist and pretends to buff it on his jersey.