Page 17 of Curve Balls and Second Chances (Pickwick Pirate Queens #1)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
T he next morning, Rose woke to the endless summer sound of cicadas humming outside her window and the faint smell of honeysuckle drifting in from the tree line.
She stretched, stood, and pulled her hair into a ponytail.
Today wasn’t about Declan , or Acen , or Briana , or ghosts that had been stirred from the past. Today was about her team.
About the Pickwick Pirate Queens . If anything grounded her, it was those women.
Laughing , sweating, hollering encouragement across the diamond.
Last practice before the first game of the tournament.
But first, a full day at Southern Sips .
As she unlocked the door, Sarah and her husband, James , pulled into the parking lot. She waited for them to exit their car and walk onto the porch of the café.
“Good morning, y’all. What brings the two of you out so early? And during the week.”
Sarah laughed as they came through the door. “ We are officially retired and moving to Pickwick Bend full time.”
“Congratulations! How about free coffee and muffins to celebrate your new status as locals?” Rose asked as she slipped behind the counter and started making coffee.
Once she had them settled with coffee and muffins, the day seemed to take off and rush by.
Unusual for a weekday, but welcome as it made the day pass more quickly.
The smiles and conversation with friends and strangers alike made for a good feeling.
Southern Sips had been her brainchild, and its success meant the world to her.
Cindy burst through the door at four o’clock breathless.
“Sorry! I thought I might be late and didn’t want to hold you up from getting to the ballfield.” She panted.
“No worries.” Rose said, taking off her logo apron and exiting the space behind the counter. “ You’re right on time.”
“Good luck.” Cindy called as the door shut behind her.
By the time she rolled into the gravel lot at the park, the sun had already baked the field into a haze of heat.
Dust hung in the air, stirred up by cleats digging in the dirt by her team.
The crack of a bat echoed sharp, followed by a round of groans and whoops from the little league field adjacent to their own.
Then, she saw him. Acen . Leaning against the chain-link fence of their assigned field, glove in one hand, a bucket of balls at his feet. He was waiting. And just like he’d promised, he didn’t try to cross that invisible line between them.
“Afternoon, Coach ,” he called, voice easy, steady.
The little scene in her coffee shop might never have happened. Rose gave him a curt nod, then turned her attention to the women jogging laps. “ Let’s pick it up, ladies! Tournament starts this Saturday , and we’re gonna stomp some teams this year.”
The chatter rose. Dani whooped, Ginny muttered something about melting in the sun, and Tasha yelled back, “ Ain’t no excuses, let’s go!”
For a little while, it almost felt normal.
But normal had a way of slipping.
Because the second Briana Lewis showed up again, leaning against the bleachers in another one of her too-crisp outfits, sunglasses glinting, the atmosphere changed.
Rose caught the way half the team glanced toward her, then toward Acen , then back to Briana . Whispered chatter rippled like wildfire.
Rose set her jaw. “ Focus ! Grounders , let’s move!”
Acen didn’t look Briana’s way. Not once. He crouched low, glove ready, voice sharp as he barked encouragement. “ Square up! That’s it, Dani ! Use your hips, Ginny , don’t arm-swing!”
They both ignored Briana , and the others followed their lead. Pushing their limits. Practicing with their whole heart.
Rose gathered the women at home plate, sweat shining on their foreheads, laughter bubbling in their throats. “ Y’all did good today,” she said, letting her voice carry. “ Real good. Keep playing like this, we’ll give that Madison County team a run for their money.”
The women cheered, some clapping each other on the back, others chugging water like it was liquid gold.
Rose stood at the edge of the dugout with her clipboard, pretending to jot down notes when really she was trying not to let her temper flare. Giving Briana a chance to slink away.
When she looked up, Briana was still there.
Still leaning on those bleachers like she had every right to waltz back into Pickwick Bend and act like she owned the place. Her sunglasses glinted with the last of the evening sun, her hair glossy, her smile sharp enough to cut.
The women noticed. Of course they did.
Ginny leaned close, dropping her voice low as she pretended to tie her shoe. “ That’s her, right?”
Rose didn’t answer.
Dani, never one to whisper when hollering would do, asked outright, “ Coach , that your Briana ?”
“My Briana ?” Rose barked, heat rising in her cheeks. “ She’s not my anything.”
The dugout went quiet for a beat, until Tasha piped up with a grin, “ Well , she sure isn’t here to cheer for us. She looks like she took a wrong turn on her way to Memphis . That outfit isn’t for a ball field for sure.”
That broke the tension, sending a ripple of laughter through the women. Even so, the air was thick, like the whole town’s gossip was pressing against the chain-link fence.
Acen hadn’t said a word. He just kept raking the dirt around home plate, smoothing out the grooves where the women had dug in their cleats. His shoulders were tight, though, his jaw set. Rose could read him better than she cared to admit. He was holding back.
“Alright, ladies,” Rose said, clapping her hands. “ Before y’all go, we’re running one more drill. Scrimmage . Half fielders, half batters. Let’s see if we can pull it together under pressure.”
Groans rose, but so did grins. Competition always lit a fire.
“Line up,” Acen called, his voice carrying steady over the chatter.
The practice cracked to life— Tasha snagging a line drive with a little too much flair, Dani sliding into second like she thought ESPN might be watching, Ginny barking encouragement one second and complaining about the heat the next.
Rose’s heart settled in its familiar rhythm. The sound of bat against ball, the smell of dust and leather, the laughter that followed every fumble.
But Briana didn’t leave. She stayed, arms crossed, watching like she was studying a playbook only she knew.
And that burned.
Because Rose could feel her eyes. And she knew—just knew—that Briana was waiting for her to crack.
“Nice hustle!” Rose called, maybe a little louder than necessary, when Dani made it to third.
“Keep your elbow up, Ginny !” Acen hollered, his focus locked on the batter.
For a brief moment, Rose caught his gaze. He wasn’t looking at Briana . He wasn’t distracted. He was in it—with her, with the team. And Lord help her, that steadied something in her chest.
Still, when the scrimmage ended and the women collapsed in the dugout with water bottles and red cheeks, Briana finally made her move.
She sauntered down the bleachers, heels clicking against the metal, and stopped right at the edge of the field.
“Well,” she said, her voice sugar-sweet but edged with steel. “ This is cute. Y’all really do take this little hobby seriously.”
The team stiffened.
Rose planted her clipboard on the bench, stood, and walked forward. “ It isn’t a hobby. It’s a team. And we work harder than you’d know.”
“Oh, I know.” Briana’s smile didn’t waver. “ I was on a team once, remember? Back when summers meant something more than—what? Grown women sweating out here in the dirt?”
“That’s enough,” Acen said, stepping forward, his voice low but firm.
Briana’s gaze flicked to him. “ Oh , Acen . Always playing protector. Some things never change.”
Rose’s blood ran hot. “ Why are you here, Briana ?”
Briana tilted her head. “ Maybe I missed home. Maybe I missed old friends.” She let the pause hang, her eyes glinting. “ Or maybe I just wanted to see how much dust could settle on the past before somebody finally stirred it back up.”
Rose felt the team’s eyes dart between them like it was a tennis match.
She wanted to scream, to demand answers, to drag every lie Briana had spun out into the open. But her women didn’t need to see her unravel. Not here. Not on this field.
So she took a breath, steadied her voice, and said, “ Practice is over. Y’all head on home.”
The team hesitated, reluctant to leave the show, until Tasha clapped her hands. “ C’mon , ladies. Let’s clear out.”
One by one, they filed past, throwing curious looks over their shoulders, until it was just Rose , Acen , and Briana left on the diamond.
The cicadas were loud again. The sky was bleeding pink and gold. And Rose’s chest felt like it might split.
“You had no right to show up here,” she said finally.
“And you had no right to act like I don’t exist,” Briana shot back, her sweetness gone now. “ We have history too, Rose . You don’t get to erase that.”
Rose stepped closer. “ History doesn’t mean I owe you anything. Not after what you pulled.”
Briana’s lips curved. “ Still bitter after all these years. I almost admire it.”
“Stop,” Acen cut in, his voice rough. “ This isn’t the place?—”
“Isn’t it?” Briana turned to him, her eyes sharp. “ You chose her then. You’ll choose her now. And look how far that’s gotten you—back in Pickwick Bend , chasing ghosts.”
Acen didn’t flinch. “ I’m not chasing ghosts.” He looked at Rose , steady. “ I’m trying to make things right.”
Rose’s heart thudded.
For once, Briana looked caught off guard. Just for a flicker. Then she smiled, slow and knowing. “ We’ll see.”
And with that, she turned and walked off, heels clicking against the gravel until the sound faded.
Silence pressed in.
Rose exhaled, long and shaky, and wrapped her arms around herself. “ Well . That went about how I figured. And I sure didn’t need her showing up and ruining the last practice before the game.”
Acen stepped closer. “ You okay?”
She gave a short laugh. “ Define okay.”
“Breathing. Standing . Still ready to fight.”
She looked at him, tired and raw, but a smile tugged at her lips despite everything. “ Guess I’m okay then.”
“Don’t let this rattle you. You and the team are ready to take the championship this year for sure.”
They stood there, dusk thickening, fireflies beginning to spark at the edge of the outfield. The weight of the past was still there, heavy as ever. But , for now, it hovered in the background. Acen was right. She had this.