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Counts as a second strike.
With a ball back in Austin’s hand, he takes a deep breath, shoulders and chest expanding, and just as he’s about to wind up, Brett holds out his hand to the ump, asking for a time-out.
It’s a dick move. Waiting until the last second.
Boos ring out as Brett toys with his gloves and takes an extra practice swing. My assumption is he’s doing it to throw Austin off his game.
It won’t work.
I know it won’t, from the set of Austin’s shoulders, from the way he’s not even acknowledging his brother. He wants this too much to give in now.
When time is up, Austin spares no quarter, winds up again, and this time, the pitch is perfect, a third fastball. I can’t even keep track of it in the air as it flies toward home plate. Brett swings, a fraction of a second too late, and the ball smacks into Rutch’s mitt.
Strike three.
The stadium erupts, with Noah screaming next to me, but I can’t join in. Not when I notice what’s happening on the field.
Austin stands on the mound, chest heaving, his eyes locked on Brett. His brother points the bat at him, a silent salute of sorts, I think. Austin merely tips the bill of his cap back then struts off the field like the goddamn rock star he is.
That beautiful grump of a man.
The rest of the game is a blur. A relief pitcher takes over on the mound, and the Thunder barely hold on to their lead, but they pull it out in the end. Like I knew they would.
The crowd surges to their feet as the hometown team pours out onto the field, Austin being swallowed up in a sea of blue-and-yellow uniforms. My heart swells with pride as he hugs his teammates and even accepts headphones to do a quick live interview, in which he doesn’t glare at the reporter, so it’s a step in the right direction. As soon as he hands them back, he spins around to the stands, head moving, eyes searching, so I jump up and down, waving my arms wildly until he spots me.
Then a slow smile unfurls across his face, and he climbs the barrier between the field and the stands. Hauls himself up, climbing over seats, and the crowd parts for him, hands reaching out to pat his back, his shoulders, his arms. He ignores them all, his eyes never leaving mine. Till, finally, he’s in front of me, hands cupping my face, lips crushing against mine.
Whistles and catcalls surround us, but I don’t care. I cling to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, my heart pounding against his. It’s centuries before he pulls away, his dual-colored eyes that I love so much brimming with emotion. The sky and the earth and everything in between.
“I love you,” he says, though I feel and see it more than hear it.
I scratch my fingers over his beard, down his damp throat, and curl my fingers around his jersey. The one mine is modeled after.
The one that supposedly made him fall in love with me.
And I smile into another kiss. “I love you too.”
We only break apart when Noah tugs on us, asking Austin, “Can I meet the rest of the team. I don’t think I have Justin Rojas’s signature yet.”
Austin tosses his head back to laugh before scrubbing Noah’s hair. “Sure, kid. Come on.”
He puts his arm around Noah and takes my hand in the other. And all three of us go down to the field. To the same place we met months ago.
Almost as if it was meant to be.
EPILOGUE
AUSTIN
Sitting on the couch with Millie’s legs over my lap and her feet wiggling back and forth while she mindlessly scrolls on her phone is exactly how I like to spend my nights. Throw in the crackling in the fireplace and twinkle lights shining on the Christmas tree? Heaven.
We’ve only been in this house for a few days, and after the incredibly hectic last six weeks, being able to relax with my girl without any pressing issues is basically a vacation.
We beat Atlanta to move on in the play-offs and played the whole five-game series against Los Angeles, which we ended up losing by one run. It was a tough loss, to miss the World Series by one, but after we got over the initial shock and grief, we all pulled together and decided as a team we were coming back next year even stronger. It’s been amazing to be a part of this Philadelphia team, to help turn around their losing record, coming so close to the championship.
We’ll get there. Next year, hopefully, but for now, I’m enjoying my time off.
As soon as I could, I put my condo on the market and bought a place just outside of the city, big enough for Millie, Noah, Shannon, and Harold, with room to grow. It’s important to both Shannon and Millie that she spend however long she has left with her family and not in a hospice facility, so Camden hooked me up with a real estate agent who took care of everything quickly, while Nico’s fiancée came over with her artist friends to decorate, including framed candid photos Jo took of all of us.
