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forty

Skylar

The past week has been about getting us back on track. Getting my brother to see that the relationship between Chase and me is serious. I think he’s come around to being okay with it.

“You have a little something on your face.” I elbow him playfully.

“It’s good luck. I’m saving it for later.”

I snort and shake my head.

“I’m just saying, if he strikes out, I’m not responsible. I’m already emotionally spent from watching you make googly eyes at him every time he’s on the field.”

I laugh. “Oh, please. I am not.”

“Just because your relationship isn’t hidden from me anymore, doesn’t mean that I want to see it. I’m perfectly fine with pretending that the two of you are just good friends who spend a little too much time together.”

I ignore him.

“How’s Danni?”

“She’s good.”

“I like her.”

“You do?” he swings his head toward me.

“Yeah. When you and Chase were outside, she and I got to talking. I didn’t know you guys were seeing one another as long as you have. Looks like someone else has been keeping secrets.”

“Nah, I wasn’t ready to debut the relationship yet.” He states, taking a bite out of his pretzel.

I stare at him with surprise, long enough that he eventually looks at me.

“What?” he says.

“You realize what you just said, right?”

He chews, and then, when realization sets in, he sets his pretzel down on his paper plate and places it on the empty seat beside him. He turns to me and takes my hand in his.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” I respond.

“But it’s a little different.”

“Yes, it’s different, but it’s still along the same lines of logic. Look, we’re not here to hash shit out. But I just want you to let it all sink in. Put yourself in my shoes.”

“Third baseman, number eleven, Chaaaaaaaase Thorne!” the announcer bellows, with Post Malone’s song, I Had Some Help playing over the loudspeaker as his walk-up song.

I look up at the big screen and note that there are 2 outs, and he’s the last chance to score, or the team goes into extra innings.

The screen changes, and I see Chase’s stats and smile.

Twenty-four home runs for the season, one hundred twenty runs batted in, and a batting average of .

301. I’m not a professional at knowing what that is, but I assume that it’s impressive.

Chase walks toward home plate. He rubs the end of his bat, then taps it on the tip of the toe of his cleats.

He pulls up the fabric on his left leg, bends, and picks up some dirt from the warning track.

He rubs his hands together, then onto his bat.

He bends his knees, squares his shoulders, and takes a deep breath.

The pitcher for New York throws a curveball. Chase’s bat doesn’t move. Ball one. Another pitch is lobbed across the plate. Chase steps back and swings. Crack! The ball sails, but over the line past first base toward the stands. Another pitch, and I hold my breath.

The sharp crack of the bat cuts through the crowd’s noise, like lightning through a calm sky. Chase still lowers the bat and watches the ball in a stillness that is beyond sexy. The ball soars, high and over the back fence, over three hundred and twenty feet. The stadium erupted.

I shot to my feet, screaming, with my hands in the air, with Ethan beside me.

Chase rounded first, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

He wasn’t sprinting; he was gliding, casually taking in the crowd's roar as he ran the bases.

His teammates came up onto the field from the dugout, cheering him on.

As he rounds third, he jogs down the third base line and taps each outstretched hand from his team there in celebration for the win before he taps home plate with his foot.

One of his teammates picks him up and spins him around.

Everyone around us is jumping up and down, high-fiving one another, cheering, and screaming in celebration.

“Wait, is he?” Ethan shouts.

He just hit a walk-off, and he’s staring straight at me as he walks through the dugout. He hoists himself over the fence separating the team dugout from the crowd.

Hands are patting his shoulder, and he smiles, acknowledging the fans in his path. But his eyes are on me.

My breath catches, and I hold it until he’s right in front of me.

“Sky.” He says, his voice just loud enough to rise over the noise.

I look over his shoulder and see that the cameras have panned in on us, and we’re on the big screen.

I freeze, smiling, my heart hammering in my chest. “Yeah?”

“I’ve hit a lot of big ones,” he says, placing his hand on my hip, “but nothing has ever felt like this. Like being with you. I bet on baseball, and I bet on you, on us.”

“Oh, God, Gross,” Ethan grumbles.

I elbow him without looking away from Chase.

“I’m serious,” he continues, his eyes never straying from mine. “You’re it for me. Every win, every loss, I want you there, always.”

I lean closer to him, just so he can hear me. “Then I guess I’d better get used to walk-offs like this.”

“I love you.” He whispers to me.“For real.”

“I love you, too,” I reply with a smile just for him.

His hand on my waist pulls me against him, and he slants his mouth over mine, and he kisses me. The kind of kiss that says more than words could ever. He pulls away from me, leans around me, and places a hand on Ethan’s shoulder.

“Hey man, I love your sister.” He says with pure excitement.

I look at Ethan over my shoulder, and his eyes soften. “Yeah, man, you do.”

Chase’s hand on my waist tightens at my brother’s words, then his gaze returns to mine.

“I need to get back there. I love you, Skylar Hale. I love the fucking shit out of you.”

Chase releases me, pulls his lower lip into his mouth, winks, and smiles at me. He’s gone into the dugout to celebrate with his team.

I turn to my brother to celebrate the team win with him. I look at him, and he’s just staring at me.

“What?” I ask.

“He loves you. He loves you, Sky.”

“Yeah, I heard him.”

“No, you don’t get it. He loves you . He’s never told anyone that he loves them.”

I turn around, look at the dugout. There’s a flurry of movement with the team. I don’t see Chase, but I know he’s there.

I return my gaze to Ethan, who has tears in his eyes.

He loves me. And I think my brother is fully okay with the fact that I love his best friend, too.