Page 49 of Meet Me Under the Lights

After Eliza saved my ass from that frame falling on me yesterday and spoke up against her ex on my behalf, the least I could do was return something I took from her long ago.

I called it Operation Lost and Found.

Dad used to say there were two kinds of people: those who waited for change to come knocking and those who broke down the door.

I have never been a patient person, so I planned to do the latter. Not literally, of course—or her father would mount my head above their marble fireplace. No, if I was going to do this, I had to do it right and do it fast before I lost the nerve.

Granddad was keeping Ben busy with an oil change for one of the tractors, which gave me the perfect window of time before our afternoon away game. Ben would’ve ridden my ass if he knew I was going into enemy territory after I made such a big deal at the start of the summer about our “All baseball. No girls.” pact. But that was mostly for his benefit, so he wouldn’t spiral again. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?

After sneaking into the attic, I found what I needed and slipped the rainbow-haired ponies into a bag along with a note—which I spent way too long writing and rewriting—before hurrying toward Main Street on foot.

Other than new lampposts and the cardinal statues, Main Street in Fairfield looked exactly the same as it did when I was a kid. The grassy area between the courthouse and library still had dirt patches and dead grass where the locals set up tables for the weekly farmer’s market. The fire department still announced birthdays on their roadside sign. And a small wooden plaque announcing the “Best Mint Chip Around” still hung in the window at Scoops.

I paused, though, when I reached the bank. My jaw clenched as I read the logo on a faded banner staked on their small lawn: “Fairfield Bank: We Are There for You.”

What a load of shit.

Back in the early 2000s, Granddad and my great uncle Charlie finished building the stadium with Eliza’s grandfather, Frank, and her father, Will. For a couple of years, they worked together to keep the stadium running. Then Frank took a job in New York for a few years to work in the stock market while Will went off to college. Apparently, they had verbally agreed to let my family take over the stadium. They already owned a couple of businesses in town, anyway.

Granddad and my dad kept the stadium running, but it was a lot on top of the farm and Dad’s new enlistment in the army. Still, they made it work.

But just as Granddad had finally saved up enough to put a down payment on the stadium to own it free and clear, Frank Crowley returned with cash and bought it out from under him. With interest. How could the bank say no?

I rounded the corner of Oak Avenue and came face-to-face with Eliza’s massive house. Tall and white with dark blue shutters, it stood exactly as I had remembered it. My feet felt weighed down with lead while I trudged along her perfectly paved driveway beneath the tall trees. The air grew heavier the closer I got. When I neared Eliza’s Jeep, TJ stepped out from the garage.

Shit.

I ducked behind the closest maple tree and took off my hat. It wasn’t that I was scared of him—far from it.

It was that I didn’t want him to take what I had in my hands or twist my reasons for being here. Operation Lost and Found felt more like Operation Lost My Mind now.

Why did I think this was a good idea, again? Entering enemy territory during the most crucial season of my life?

I leaned against the tree, and the Ziploc bag crinkled in my hand.

If Eliza took these back, saw my number on the note and actually responded, then my gut would be right: She had changed after all these years. And maybe I had too.

But then what? What was next for her? For me?

For us?

Hell. Would there be an us?

Did I want there to be?

It’s not like I lived here. I’d be gone at the end of the summer, and whatever went on between us would probably blow over faster than dirt on home plate.

Or would it?

Ever since the railyard, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were changing. And every time I tried to ignore it, the damn lump in my throat brought the thought right back.

Fuck it.

Dad’s deployments may have sucked but they did teach me one thing: Never give yourself the opportunity to have regrets.

I pushed off the tree and headed toward her front porch. TJ worked underneath his bike, with music blaring inside the garage. A moment later, I set the bag down next to a big ceramic pot filled with umbrellas—who needed this many umbrellas?—and then headed back down the long driveway.

Operation Lost and Found was a go.