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“Mom was pretty freaked,” I told her. “I thought she was going to clock the doctor at one point. It was pretty funny.”
We were both quiet for a minute, then I voiced the thing I’d been worried about since the moment I felt that tool’s fender, “What if my arm doesn’t heal right? It’s my pitching arm…”
I felt the bed go down as Gwen sat next to me and put her hand on my arm and leaned down to me.
“Don’t you worry about that, everything is going to be fine,” Gwen assured me, her voice firm. “You have a few months before you have to start training. You’ll be better than ever by the time the season starts.”
“But what if I’m not?”
“You will be.”
“But if I’m not practicing, and going to the cages, how will I be ready for the season? I have to make the team, Gwen, and I don’t want to play freshman, or even JV, I was planning to make Varsity… you know that.” My stomach clenched with fear as the doubt started to sink in. “Everyone says it’s a long shot as it is… A freshman playing Varsity, but it’ll be even harder to do if I’m not as ready as I need to be.”
“Look,” Gwen countered, brushing the hair off my forehead, causing my body to suddenly wake up to the fact that she was very close, touching me, and smelled amazing. I tried to shift away without her realizing what I was doing. “We’ll make it work. I’ll help you at the gym. We can make sure you stay strong. I bet if you talk to one of the coaches, they can give you some ideas of what you can do. I think they mentioned that Coach Smythe is also a personal trainer or something, we can talk to her. And, we’ll keep your brain focused.”
“How do we do that?” I asked, unable to hold back a grin at her determination.
“I don’t know… We’ll watch every baseball movie ever made.” Gwen grinned back at me, and I saw her visibly relax. “It’ll be fine. It has to be.”
“Thanks,” I said sincerely. “I don’t know how I’d get through this without you.”
Chapter Nine ~ Gwen
Present Day (20 years old)
I walked into my childhood home, still hugging the petite woman who’d raised me. The smell of apple-cinnamon hit me, at once reminding me of my childhood, and alerting me to the fact that I was home.
“You made muffins,” I stated, hugging my mother closely to my side. My mom was only five foot and about ninety pounds, yet she could pack away food like a six-foot tall linebacker. Standing at five foot five inches myself, around my family was usually the only time I felt tall.
“Of course I did, babe,” my mom answered with a squeeze. “I couldn’t let my girl come home without making some of her favorite things.”
My sister Gaby inherited all of her baking skills from our mother; unfortunately there wasn’t any left for me. I didn’t suffer though; I was related to women who could work magic in the kitchen. We always joked that I’d just have to marry a man who could cook.
I paused as visions of Craig flashed through my mind. Rose had made sure her boys could take care of themselves in the kitchen. When I was younger, I’d always imagined that Craig would be the one cooking for me when we got older.
“Gwennie?” my mom’s voice brought me back to the present.
“Sorry. What did you say?” I asked as I settled into my seat at the table.
Mom placed a muffin in front of me. It was already split open with butter melting and beginning to drip down the side. Just the way I liked it.
“I asked how your pieces for the showcase were coming along.”
I filled her in on which pictures I’d chosen, and how I wanted to place them, then cleaned up after myself and told her I’d be down after I put my stuff in my room. I’d called Gaby when I knew I was definitely driving down for the weekend, and was going to her and Scott’s place for dinner. I couldn’t wait to get to see and hold Emma, my niece.
I bounded back down the stairs, wrapping my favorite royal-blue scarf around my neck. One of my favorite things about coming home was going through my closet to see what clothes I hadn’t gotten to wear in a while. I guess I could’ve taken everything with me to school when I moved, but it was more fun this way… Like I had a new wardrobe waiting for me.
“Ready, Mamma?” I called when I reached the last step.
“Absolutely,” my mom said with a smile. “Let’s go see that grandbaby of mine.”
When we pulled up in front of Scott and Gaby’s single-story ranch-style home, I bounced in my seat and clapped my hands like a little girl. I was not only looking forward to cuddling Emma, but it had been too long since I’d seen Gaby.
Mom had barely cut the engine when I bounded out of the car and up the steps. I knocked twice loudly, then opened the door.
“I hope you’re decent, because your mother’s here!” I yelled out, then veered toward Gaby’s answering giggle.
I rounded the corner to see her struggling to get off Scott’s lap, while he fought to keep her in place and give her a kiss.
