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I nod. "Yeah, she's coming," I say.

And then she's leaving.

JJ purses his lips, and taps his glove against my arm. "Told you it wasn't nothing."

I run my tongue along my top teeth, smothering my grin. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever, man." I step back out onto the field. "Let's get warmed up."

The two of us make it out to the sand, tossing the ball back and forth across the infield. A few minutes pass, but my mind doesn't stay with it—too busy circling Vienna, Lenny, and everything this night seems to mean.

Then, I replay Vienna's activation appointment in my mind for the millionth time.

How brave she looked sitting in that chair across from the audiologist. From us.

How her face went still the second they turned her implant on.

That flash of panic hits me all over again—sharp and immediate. Like we got it wrong. Like I got it wrong. Like I pushed her into something she didn't fully understand. That it wouldn't be better. Wouldn't be easier. That none of it would matter. That things would just… change.

But then—

Her eyes lit up.

Her hand flew to her mouth. Her lip trembled in the softest way when she heard my voice for the first time.

"Hey, V," I said. I clung to the audiologist's warning that everything would sound fuzzy at first because my voice came out rough and uneven—and my chest felt like it might crack with it.

And for the first time, the guilt I carried from staying away those first few years didn't feel so heavy. It gave way to something else. Something better.

Pride.

Pride in being there. In not missing this.

In finally understanding that real genuine happiness can come even after time and distance. Even after mistakes.

I run through it all one more time, relishing in the sting in my hand that grounds me back to the moment.

Then… I hear my name.

Not Holloway.

Not Rook.

Just… Jace.

And in Lenny's voice.

My eyes instantly fly to her usual seats—up and to the left of the dugout.

If it's possible to be simultaneously at ease and overwhelmed—excited and heartbroken—then that's how I feel.

Because she's here.

And she won't be tomorrow.

Cecily waving from behind home plate catches my eye, and when I glance over, she gives me the signal—it's almost time for the anthem.

My focus snaps back to Lenny, and before I can even consider doing anything else, I'm moving.

I jog over, passing my spot on the foul line to get closer to the fence. My heart pounds, out of sync with the music fading through the stadium.