Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“I’m really just helping Sutton out of a bind.”
“I think this is the spark you need to get off your couch.” She grabs the door handle like I’m about to wreck into the car in front of us. “I know you just dated … dammit. What was his name?”
“Donovan.”
“Yes, Donovan. He didn’t put any sparkle, any pizzazz into your life. Maybe this new gig you have going on will do that for you.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
We drive quietly toward my mom’s house. She plays on her phone, and I think about my lost pizzazz. I disagree with her in theory. I still feel pretty damn pizazzy. But I know what she means, and she’s not totally wrong.
Last night, I felt a little more alive than I have in weeks. So maybe this is the spark I need to propel me forward. This might be the path to dreaming again.
The sound of Ripley’s laughter streams through my ears. I can see his face, feel his hand on the small of my back, and his breath against my ear.
I shiver in my seat.
It might also be the path to a nightmare.
I guess time will tell.
Chapter Fourteen
Ripley
“I highly advise against that,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “If you put Charleston straight into conditioning at that level, you may as well write him off for the rest of the season.”
“He’s in that bad of shape?” Coach Shaw shakes his head. “For fuck’s sake, Ripley. I need a shortstop. Is there anything we can do to expedite getting him field-ready?”
“That’s up to him. He must put the work in. We reviewed his personalized program this morning, and I explained how imperative this is to his recovery and reducing injuries going forward. But I mean …”
“How much confidence do you have in him?”
I grin. “I give him a ten out of ten that he’s going to go home tonight, eat a bunch of shit, and engage in inappropriate behavior.”
Coach rolls his eyes.
“He gets a four-point-seven that he’s going to walk in here tomorrow fully committed to his health and the Arrows program,” I say.
“You know, when I got into coaching at this level, I didn’t expect it to resemble chasing kittens around all damn day.” He puts his hands on his knees and groans as he stands. “Yet here we fucking are.”
I chuckle, watching his thoughts fly around his head like a cartoon character.
“I’m going to get with Landry about this roster,” Coach says. “If he wants to make the playoffs, I gotta have a shortstop.”
“Seems important to me.”
He laughs, side-eyeing me. “Any chance I could get your ass in a pair of cleats?”
“Sure. I’ll lace up for the right price, but I’m not sure that’ll help your play-off objective.”
His laugh grows louder as he heads for the door. “Thanks for your help. I can always count on you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Coach’s words echo through my mind as he steps into the hallway. I smile as I pick up my phone to check the texts that have been chirping inside my desk for the past ten minutes.
“Good grief, you fuckers,” I say, opening the family text thread.
Bianca: Is it just me, or is Renn withholding baby Arlo pictures?
Tate: I’ve gotten pics every day this week.
Jason: Of Arlo, Tate.
Tate: Oh.
Bianca:
Gannon: Are you not getting the pictures? Wow, B. That’s rough.
Bianca: You better be joking.
I laugh, imagining my sister’s face all distorted and fire coming from her head. When she lived in Nashville, we were all borderline scared of her. She might be younger than all of us but Tate and short as hell, but she won’t put up with anything—especially from us.
Jason: Did you see the one where Blakely put Arlo in Renn’s old jersey?
Tate: Did I send you the one from last weekend when I was over there and caught him smiling at me?
Gannon: Ah, yeah. That was a good one.
Bianca: This isn’t funny, guys.
Bianca: I WANT TO SEE MY NEPHEW.
Renn: I sent you ten pictures yesterday. What the hell are you talking about, B?
Bianca: I wanted to ensure they weren’t getting pictures I wasn’t getting.
Tate: Aw, is someone getting homesick?
My smile stretches from ear to ear as I read the messages from my brothers and sister.
Bianca: I don’t want to be excluded from anything just because I’m not there.
Jason: That means you're homesick.
Bianca: Does it?
Renn: You know that holidays, birthday parties, kindergarten graduations, and rugby games will be much easier if you live here.
Tate: And late-night milkshake runs.
Renn: What?
Tate: That’s going to be our thing.
Renn: Whose?
Tate: Me and Arlo. I’ve decided.
I chuckle, scrolling to keep reading.
Renn: You better talk to his mother before you do that.
Jason: Our thing is going to be flying. He’s going to want his pilot’s license.
Renn: Chill. Out.
Jason: I can see it in his eyes. The kid was born for the sky.
Renn: You guys are stressing me out.