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It’s the last game of the year and the girls are hoping to get a trophy. If they can score one more run, this game will be called and they’ll be the winners. Glancing over at Natalie, I grin. The two of us are standing at the dugout, dressed up as proud parents of the star player of the game. Natalie’s got Trin’s number on her cheek, her hair spray painted in the colors of the team, and a shirt that reads Trin’s Mom on the back.
I’m not exactly sure when we made the transition from calling her Nat to Mom, but it’s happened. Three weeks ago, she moved in with us and it’s as if we’ve lived this way our whole lives.
“She’s laying back, just like I told her to.” Natalie’s voice is full of excitement as she watches Trinity at the plate. “She’s gonna do this.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I take a much more practical approach. “If she doesn’t, it’s okay. We’ll still love her.”
“Of course we will, but she’s a little baddie. She’s got this.”
It’s not that I don’t have faith in her, but I don’t want her to be disappointed if she doesn’t make this run. Therefore, I keep my face impassive as I watch her swing and miss.
She looks over.
“You got this!” Natalie yells, clapping her hands.
Trinity’s eyes meet mine and it’s like looking into a damn mirror. I nod at her; she nods right back and her mouth sets in a grim line. She’s not playing around anymore.
The next pitch is terrible. She lays back.
“Good eye,” I praise, clapping loudly.
This time, the ball coming from the pitcher’s mound to the plate looks like it’s going to the fucking moon. I’m not sure what the pitcher did, but it’s a slow mover and Trinity steps hardcore into her swing. The sound of the softball reverberating off her bat has everyone in the stands standing and cheering.
Natalie runs to home plate, waving the runners home just as the ball goes over the back fence.
“Home Run, Trinity Hines.”
It’s the first one she’s ever hit and at the most perfect of times. Natalie stays there, letting Trin’s foot touch the plate before she lifts her up in her arms and spins her around.
An hour later, when they’re getting their trophies and someone is taking pictures, Trinity yells for the two of us.
“She said she wanted her picture to be with her parents,” the photographer says, directing us to squish in together.
As the flash goes off, my arm tightens around Natalie’s waist. If it weren’t for her, her love for us, and her willingness to put up with me, we wouldn’t be here.
This love would’ve combusted before it ever got started.
Epilogue Two
Chance
“Ambulance thirty-three is responding;ETA is two minutes.”
The weather is fucking awful. Autumn rainstorms are sometimes worse than the super early winter storms. This one is hitting at one of the worst times it could too. Late summer has been hot and we’ve been in semi-drought conditions for the last few weeks. Which means, no rain.
This storm has brought all of the oil and debris from the road up to the surface. The force of the wind has knocked the first round of leaves off the trees and, with that fresh coating, it’s dangerous. It’s slick as ice, particularly on these back roads.
I’m trying to get to the scene of the accident I’ve been called to as quickly as possible while still being safe. Sliding slightly as I round a corner, I grit my teeth. “Son of a bitch.” White-knuckling the wheel, I take my foot off the gas, letting it slow down on its own. Once I have control of the rig again, I accelerate, needing to get to the scene as quickly as possible.
Turning the corner, there it is. Smoke billows from the crumpled up hood of the car; it’s upside down. I’m thankful for the rain; it’s keeping whatever fire might be ready to ignite at bay. The driver’s side is smashed in and I’m not looking forward to what’s going to greet me when I get there. Immediately, my brain starts to fire, ready to determine how I’m going to need to respond. What types of first aid I’ll have to render.
It’s a mind game every time I go to a scene, something that helps me get mentally prepared. That way, in the heat of the moment, I’m not scrambling and trying to figure out how I can best help the patients.
Pulling up to a stop in front of everything, I reach over and grab my jacket before setting the brake on the ambulance. I’m shrugging into the jacket as I get out, grabbing my go-bag and running up to the scene.
“We haven’t gotten in the car yet,” Cam yells over the sound of the storm.
“Can you get me in the window?” I yell back at him. “That way, I can assess and at least get Bradford General ready to take them or see if they need to be transferred to Knoxville.”
