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Prologue
Drew
“You’re up, Carter.”
Coach nudged me out of the dugout. No words of encouragement. No more words at all. Didn’t need them.
This was the moment.
Final game. Two outs. Bases loaded. Down by three runs.
I was a pitcher, but the best hitter on the team, and it was my turn at bat. Judging by the chin nods from my teammates as I passed, they believed in me. If anyone could knock it out of the park, my teammates had faith that it was me.
I took my time walking to the plate. Saw my mom, dad, brother, and girlfriend on the front row of bleachers, clapping and cheering like crazy people. God, I loved them. My brother tipped his hat, and I nodded back. This was for them.
Get ready to be College World Series champions, boys.
I tapped the bat on the dirt twice. Got in my stance. Waited.
The pitcher wound up and the ball sailed straight into the catcher’s glove.
“Strike!”
These people wanted a photo finish. I couldn’t hit a homer on the first pitch. Everybody knew that.
The second ball came.
Swing and a miss.
I looked toward the fences. Hit the bat on the dirt again. And swung for my life when the ball zinged toward me.
Crack.
I took off for first base. By the time I reached it, I realized the ball landed just inside the fence.
Damn. Mitchell home.
When I was halfway to second, the outfielder had reached the ball. He fumbled it as I rounded the base. Jackson home.
I ran to third with a speed I didn’t realize I possessed. Ryker crossed home plate.
All tied up.
I sped past the plate just before the third baseman caught the ball.
The noise of the crowd spurred me on. Almost home.
I dove headfirst for the plate. Pain shot through my shoulder and my knee, but it didn’t matter as I stretched to touch the plate.
The catcher tagged me.
I looked at the umpire.
“Safe!”
I opened my eyes.The soft whir of a machine was the only noise in the otherwise quiet room.
Mama jerked up in her chair. “Drew.” Worry and relief tainted her tone.
