Chapter Seven

Sam

I went through my usual warm-up and stretching to get loose. Once I was ready, I grabbed my glove and the bucket of balls and headed toward the mound. I tossed one ball at a time toward the net, easy at first, then with a little more heat just to get my arm moving.

After twenty throws, I stepped back and rolled my shoulders.

“How's it feeling today?” Ray asked from the deck.

“Good. Solid.” I said.

“You look good.” He stood and walked toward me. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I reached into the bucket and grabbed a ball, rolling it between my fingers as I walked to the mound. Toeing the rubber, I shifted my foot slightly, searching for the perfect spot. I turned the ball with my fingertips until the grip felt just right, then settled into my windup and let it fly.

The ball slammed into the net with a thwack . I didn’t need to look at the radar gun to know that I was closer to where I wanted to be than I was during my last bullpen. The sound still wasn’t as sharp as it should be, but I felt confident it would get there.

“Ninety-three,” Ray said from his spot behind me on the lawn, his arms crossed over his chest.

I threw a few more fastballs, each one a tick harder than the last, letting my body settle into the rhythm of the motion I've practiced since I was twelve. It felt good, like everything was in sync again.

Ray rattled off the speed after each pitch, his voice steady and precise. My last two fastballs were at 96 mph, and I didn’t have to force them. They came out smooth and easy, like my body finally remembered exactly how to do this.

Then again, after the Reiki sessions, I’m not so sure anymore if my body had been the real problem or if it was my mind holding me back all along.

I moved through the rest of my bullpen, shifting into sliders next. After five of those, I transitioned to curveballs, watching each one break sharp and late. Then I finished with six pitches in sequence—fastball, slider, fastball, fastball, curveball, and a changeup to close it out.

Ray walked over and handed me my water. I drank half of it in one long gulp.

“You’re pretty much there, Sam,” he said. “You look a thousand times better than last time I saw you throw.”

“I feel good. Like I did before.”

“How’s your elbow feeling?”

“Good. No pain or stiffness.” I finished the rest of my water and set the bottle on the mound. “I feel like I could throw more.”

“But you’re not going to.”

“I know.”

I grabbed the bucket and started picking up the balls, with Ray right there beside me. Before long, we had everything cleaned up and put away in the shed. I toed off my cleats before stepping onto the deck, setting them neatly in the corner.

Ray and I headed inside just as my mom came in the front door. She gave him a warm hello hug.

“It’s so nice to see you.” She pulled back and glanced over at me. “How’d the bullpen go?”

“I’ll let Ray fill you in while I take a quick shower.”

Upstairs, I peeled off my sweaty clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash over me. I shifted my shoulders, extended my elbow, and flexed my fingers. Everything feels great. There’s nothing more than normal fatigue after throwing a bullpen.

My mind wandered to yesterday’s Reiki session. It was the first after our date Saturday night, and I’ll admit I was worried it might have been awkward, but it wasn’t. If anything, it felt easier. Like the space between us had relaxed more.

And for the first time since we started our “energy journey” together, when I envisioned myself pitching in the session, I actually threw the ball instead of having it disappear. Then I threw a kick-ass bullpen today. That can’t be a coincidence, can it?

I finished rinsing my hair, turned off the water, and stepped out of the shower.

After drying off, I got dressed, checked my phone and saw a text from Hope.

See you soon.

I smiled, ran a comb through my damp hair, and headed downstairs.

Mom and Ray were sitting on the couch, deep in quiet conversation, their eyes warm, bodies angled toward each other.

Ray jumped up when he saw me.

“All set?”

“Yeah,” I said. “But I’m gonna go pick up Hope and we’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

It might seem ridiculous to take two cars when Starlight Shores is the size of a postage stamp, but the last thing I want is to feel like a teenager being chauffeured on a date by his parents.

“Okay, we’ll see you there,” Ray said while Mom flashed a hopeful smile.

They look like an old married couple sending their son off to prom.

I walked out to my truck and slid behind the wheel. I’d just buckled my seatbelt when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Leo Marakis, my catcher.

Just checking in—how’s the arm?

I smiled and replied

Doing well. Fastball is almost where it needs to be.

That’s awesome! If I don’t talk to you, have a great holiday. See you at the wedding.

Leo and his longtime girlfriend, Anjannette, are getting married on New Year’s Eve in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Yep, the Scranton from The Office. I pocketed my phone and made a mental note to ask Hope if she’d be my plus-one.

As I shifted into park, I saw Mom and Ray stepping onto the front porch. He held the door open for her, then placed his hand on the small of her back as they walked to his car. She was smiling in a way I’ve never seen before.

I headed to Hope’s house, trying to pinpoint the moment things shifted between them, but I couldn’t. Maybe it wasn’t a moment. Maybe it was something that had been slowly unfolding for years.

As far as I know, Mom hasn’t dated anyone since my dad left.

When I was younger, I never really thought about it.

It was just the way things were. But now I wonder if she ever gets lonely.

She’s got her friends, her business, and she keeps busy, but that’s different from having someone to share it all with at the end of the day.

If she and Ray are interested in each other, I’m all for it.

Hope

The doorbell rang, and my heart did that now-familiar little skip it seemed to save just for Sam. I opened the door to find him in dark jeans and a burgundy sweater that made his eyes look warmer and brighter, like they held secrets only I’d be lucky enough to learn.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his eyes taking me in.

“Thank you.”

He grinned and stepped back, giving me space to lock the door behind me.

The air was crisp, hinting at winter without fully committing.

We made our way to his truck, and he opened the passenger door for me.

I climbed in, my heart still fluttering in the best way.

Just before closing the door, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss on my lips.

I watched him walk around the front of the truck, and once he was inside, we pulled onto the road. The quiet hum of the engine filled the space between us as we headed toward the restaurant.

“Ray's excited to meet you,” he said as we pulled into the parking lot a couple minutes later. “I may have talked about you a bit.”

“Oh? What exactly have you been saying?”

“Only good things,” he promised with a wink.

The restaurant was warm and inviting with soft lighting, wood beams, and the kind of atmosphere that made you want to linger over dinner.

Ray and Liz were already seated at a corner table.

Liz looked elegant and warm, and Ray stood to greet us with a smile that lit up his whole face.

He was almost as tall as Sam but with a broader build, radiating a kind of easy confidence.

“So this is Hope,” he said, shaking my hand with a kind of sincere warmth that made me instantly like him. “It’s really great to finally meet the person behind Sam’s full recovery.”

I turned to Sam, eyebrows raised.

“Full recovery?”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost shy, something I hadn’t seen from him before.

“I had a bullpen earlier, and it went really well.”

“He's being modest,” Ray jumped in. “He was hitting 95 repeatedly, and got up to 96 a few times.”

“Is that where you need to be?” I asked, genuinely curious about where that put him in his comeback journey.

“The goal is to hit 98 or 99 when I want to, but it’s good enough for the moment.”

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face.

“That's amazing, Sam.”

I thought about our session the day before, how his energy had felt different, more centered, flowing without all the blockages I'd sensed before.

Dinner was easy, the kind of effortless evening where laughter and stories bounce around the table without pause.

Liz shared tales from her new age shop, the quirky customers, the crystal healing workshops, and the steady buzz of energy that filled her space.

I talked about the ups and downs of getting my yoga studio off the ground, the long hours, and the quiet moments that made it all worth it.

Ray had us all cracking up with hilarious stories from Sam’s rookie year, the kind of antics only a baseball newbie could get away with, and the moments that made the whole team shake their heads and smile.

The night felt warm and full, like a small family finding common ground over good food and shared memories.

After dinner, Sam drove me home, and at my door, I found myself not wanting the evening to end.

“Would you like to come in?” I asked.

“I'd like that,” he said softly.

Inside, I offered him a drink.

“Just water is fine,” he said, following me to the kitchen.

I poured us each a glass and we settled on the couch, closer than we needed to be, and he told me more about the bullpen session. How for the first time since the injury, he felt himself really throwing the ball rather than pushing it.

“That makes sense,” I said. “Your energy is flowing so much better now. The congestion is almost completely gone.”

“If you’d told me that a month ago, I’d have thought you were crazy,” Sam said with a half-smile.

“I’m still not sure what to make of all the woo-woo stuff you and my mom are into.

But I can’t deny I feel different since our sessions.

Like something’s lighter, easier inside me. And I’m definitely throwing better.”

“I get that it can seem a little weird, but the mind and body are connected more deeply than we often realize. Your energy got all out of sync during the injury and surgery. It just needed a little help readjusting to catch up with your body’s healing.

That’s why you’re starting to feel lighter and throw better now. ”

“However it works, I’ll take it.” He took a drink then leaned forward and set his glass on the coffee table. His eyes held mine for a moment. “Do you have plans for New Year's Eve?”

“I usually just go to the party in the square.” I shrugged. “Nothing special.”

“My catcher Leo is getting married and I was wondering if you'd like to go with me.” Before I could respond, he added, “It’s in Scranton, Pennsylvania, and I’m flying up the day before and coming home the day after.”

The idea of traveling with him, meeting his teammates, and watching one of them get married on a night people usually spend reflecting or celebrating with champagne and countdowns felt oddly intimate. Like a window into a part of his world he didn’t offer just anyone.

Needing to touch him, I ran my hand over his chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.

“I close the studio that whole week, so I’m totally free,” I said. “I'd love to go with you.”

“That’s perfect.”

His gaze held mine as he gently took my hand from his chest and brought it to his lips, pressing slow, deliberate kisses to each of my fingers. I felt every single one deep in my core, like soft sparks that fluttered low in my stomach and spread warmth through my entire body.

He smiled then, slow, tender, and laced with a quiet promise that made my heart skip. Then he leaned in and kissed me.

It started slow, his lips warm and sure, the kind of kiss that made me melt into him.

I cupped his jaw, feeling the faint rasp of his beard beneath my fingers as he deepened the kiss, his hand slipping around my waist. We shifted, bodies angling closer, heat growing between us.

Every kiss, every touch felt like a promise, like something unfolding.

Our tongues met in a slow, heated rhythm that stirred something deep inside me.

The kiss was intense, full of want and unspoken promises.

I slid my hands into his hair, feeling the soft strands slip between my fingers as I tugged him closer.

He murmured something soft against my lips, his voice low and warm, sending a ripple of anticipation down my spine.

When we ended the kiss, the air between us crackled, charged with everything unspoken. I wasn’t ready to let go. I stood and reached for his hand, lacing my fingers with his, gently tugging him toward the stairs. Each step pulsed with anticipation, my mind already lost in the promise of his touch.