Chapter Six

Sam

I checked my reflection in the dresser mirror before heading out. My hair is in order, my beard freshly trimmed, and my khakis and blue button-down are wrinkle free for the moment, thanks to Mom. I slipped my feet into brown loafers and headed downstairs.

Mom was sitting on the couch, a book in her hands. She wasn’t really reading it, more like using it as an excuse to look casual. When she saw me, her mouth curled into a small smile.

She rested the book in her lap.

“You look nice.”

“Thanks,” I said. “And thanks for ironing.”

I can handle an iron, but she offered, and I’m not stupid enough to say no to that.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “I miss doing little things for you.”

“You’ve done so much for me, Mom. More than I can ever repay.”

I walked over, leaned down, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

As I straightened she smiled at me, eyes glistening.

We’ve had that conversation more than once.

Usually every time I want to give her something.

But she worked and sacrificed to get me where I am.

Now that I’ve got the means, of course I’m going to take care of her. Why wouldn’t I?

“I’m glad you’re going out with Hope.”

“It’s just dinner, Mom.”

“Dinner can be the start of a lot of things.”

She gave me a knowing look, the kind only a mom can pull off—gentle, hopeful, and just a little smug.

“Have a good night.”

“You too,” she said. “And don’t worry about getting home early.”

I chuckled and headed out the door. As I climbed behind the wheel of my truck, the scent of the bouquet I bought for Hope surrounded me. Lavender, soft and sweet, mixed with the invigorating smell of eucalyptus. It reminded me of her Reiki room, calm, fresh, and kind of peaceful, just like her.

Starlight Shores isn’t big, so even though Hope lives clear across town, I pulled up in front of her place in under ten minutes.

Hope’s house was exactly what I’d pictured, small, cozy, and quietly charming. A white Cape Cod with soft gray shutters, tucked behind a line of holly bushes and a mailbox painted with faded sunflowers.

I made my way up the stone walkway, the soft glow of twinkle lights wrapped around the porch banister guiding my way. Two rocking chairs sat side by side on the porch, one with a folded knit blanket draped over the back like someone had just been sitting out there with a mug of tea.

As I stood in front of the door, I paused and let out a slow breath, trying to settle the nerves fluttering in my chest. It’s been a long time since a first date made me feel like this—off balance in a good way, like something real might be waiting on the other side.

The wreath on her door caught my eye. It’s classic, but still unmistakably Hope. A full circle of fresh evergreen, dotted with bright red berries and little pinecones, tied off with a simple cranberry velvet ribbon.

I finally rang the doorbell, the sound of it echoing faintly from inside while I shifted on my feet and tried not to overthink this. Like I said to Mom, it’s just dinner.

The door swung open, and my carefully planned greeting, the mental note to stand up straight, and even the reminder to breathe evaporated from my mind.

Hope stood in the doorway, lit from behind by the warm glow of her entryway lights.

The sage green sweater slipped off one shoulder, revealing a scatter of freckles I suddenly wanted to trace with my fingertips.

A wide brown belt cinched the sweater at her waist, the soft knit flowing over a cream-colored skirt that swayed gently in the evening breeze.

Her cowboy boots peeked out beneath the hem, worn and well-loved.

But it was her hair that stopped me—soft blonde waves tumbling around her shoulders.

I’ve never seen it down before, and somehow, it makes her look even more like herself.

I cleared my throat, trying not to sound like a total idiot.

“You look amazing.”

Hope smiled with a quiet warmth that made the knot in my chest loosen just a bit.

“Thanks, Sam. You look pretty good yourself.”

I extended the flowers like an offering.

“These are for you.”

“Sam, they're beautiful.”

Her eyes lit up as she accepted them, and that's when I noticed her jewelry. She had silver rings adorning several fingers, each one unique. Delicate bracelets jingled softly as she moved, and around her neck hung a silver compass pendant that caught the light when she looked down at the flowers.

“Come in for a second while I put these in water,” she said, stepping aside.

I followed her in, watching as she moved through her house with an easy grace that reminded me of how she looked at her studio. The same fluid movement, but now in cowboy boots and a skirt that swayed with every step.

“Ready?” she asked, returning with the flowers now arranged in a simple glass vase.

“Definitely.”

She set the vase in the middle of the coffee table and we headed out the door.

On the drive to the restaurant, we filled the space with the usual first-date stuff—favorite movies, music, the weirdest things we’ve ever eaten. It was easy and light. By the time we pulled into the parking lot, my nerves had settled into something calmer and more comfortable.

We headed across the street to the seafood restaurant and were seated at a window table with a great view of the river. Being right on the Riverwalk, the place has a great atmosphere. If it were just a few degrees warmer, we might’ve eaten outside, but honestly, this spot’s just as good.

The server handed us our menus and after reciting tonight’s specials, stepped away, giving us a few minutes to decide.

Hope scanned the options, her brow furrowed.

“I’m torn between the grilled shrimp and the crab cakes,” she said, glancing up at me. “What about you?”

“The blackened grouper special is calling my name,” I said. “But the surf and turf is making a pretty strong case.”

When the server returned, we were both ready to order. Hope went with the grilled shrimp over garlic parmesan risotto and a glass of sauvignon blanc. I ordered the blackened grouper with roasted potatoes, a local IPA, and the fried calamari appetizer for us to share.

The server slipped away, but was quickly back before we could fully settle in, placing our drinks in front of us.

She took a slow sip, then glanced over at me with a curious smile.

“So,” she said. “You’re four Reiki sessions in now, how’s the pitching going?”

“As of yesterday, my fastball is routinely at ninety-two,” I said.

Hope nodded, her eyes softening.

“I can really feel things opening up,” she said. “The energy’s flowing a bit more freely than when we first met.”

I shook my head and chuckled.

“I still don't understand how your hands hovering over me makes that happen, but I'm not questioning it.” I took a sip of beer and set the bottle down. “And I definitely can’t deny it’s helping.”

“Smart man,” she said around an adorable grin.

“I’ve been meaning to ask how you got into yoga and Reiki. It seems like a pretty unique path.”

“I told you about how I moved a lot when I was a kid.” I nodded.

“Constantly being in a new town and new school with no real friends gave me a lot of anxiety. In college, my friend Tiffany dragged me to yoga, promising it would help.” She laughed softly.

“I went to shut her up, but ended up falling in love with the practice. Eventually, I got certified as an instructor, and that led me to Reiki. It felt natural, like I was helping others find that calm too.”

“That’s awesome,” I said. “And it’s great you’ve found a way to make a living doing what you love and helping people at the same time.”

“I was pretty lucky, honestly. I had a job in Wilmington that paid well, so I was able to save up a good chunk before making the move to Starlight Shores. It gave me money to fall back on and the time I needed for the yoga studio to start turning a profit.”

“That kind of cushion makes a big difference,” I said. “I imagine starting something new is a whole lot less stressful when you’re not worried about making rent.”

“Definitely.” I took a sip of wine. “What about you? Tell me how you ended up being the Cherry Bomb .”

She used quote marks on the nickname I was given back in the minor leagues.

Before I could answer, the server returned with a plate of calamari, setting it down between us with a smile. I reached for a lemon wedge, grateful for the moment to collect my thoughts before diving into the story.

“I played everything when I was younger—basketball, football, baseball. But baseball was always the one I loved the most. Once I hit fifteen, I started playing travel ball and really focused on pitching. I still played the other sports in high school, but baseball was the one I wanted.”

I dragged a piece of calamari through the remoulade sauce and popped it into my mouth.

Hope nodded, her compass necklace glinting in the candlelight.

“Your mom is amazing. She practically glows when she talks about you.”

“She really is, and I owe her everything. She busted her ass working two jobs to support us and picked up a third just to cover gear and travel ball costs,” I said. “And despite that, she never missed one of my games. It’s still weird when she’s not in the stands.”

We ate in comfortable silence until the appetizer was completely gone. She took a drink then looked at me with soft eyes as she set her glass down.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted her to.

“Where’s your dad?”

Hope

Before he could answer, the server returned, balancing two steaming plates in his hands. He set them down gently, and my mouth watered as the warm scent of Old Bay, garlic, and parmesan rose from the plate, making my stomach growl in anticipation.

We both dug in, and for a while, the only sounds were clinking silverware and murmured appreciation for the food. After a few bites, Sam set his fork down and looked at me.