Page 41 of Run Home

“Since last night.”

“How long have you liked her?”

“A ridiculously long time.”

“Define ridiculously long.”

“Over a year.”

“And she likes your pathetic self back?”

“Her only character flaw.”

“Are you serious about her? Serious, serious?”

That question gives me pause, and I look Drew in the eyes. “Why does everyone assume I can’t be serious?”

He narrows his eyes in a look that clearly communicates “Uh, please.”

Huffing a breath, I say. “Yes, I like to have fun. But I can be serious. And I’ve never been more serious about anything than how I feel about Sam. What you have with Lily—I’m going to do everything in my power to create that with Sam. As long as she’ll let me.”

The crowd’s applause clues us in that it’s time for our turn at bat. I’m first up in the batting lineup this inning, so I strap on the protective arm guard. Drew pats the batting helmet on my head and says, “I’m happy for you, chamo. I hope you and Sam do find what Lily and I have. Because it’s the best—way better than any home run or game win.” I clap him on the shoulder, and he grins as he adds, “But go hit a homer anyway.”

Taking his words to heart, remembering that Sam will be watching these highlights later, I settle into my stance and home in on the pitcher’s eyes.

The crack of the ball against the bat is one of those satisfying collisions you feel reverberate through your bones. The kind you know without looking is out of the park. I press a kiss to my fingers and hold them up as I jog around the bases, all the way home.

Chapter seventeen

Sam

I’m sitting in the driver’s seat of my running car, squealing as I watch the video on my phone screen. Adrian played lights out this game, making three incredible defensive plays and scoring two runs before the seventh inning.

The recap video shows him settling into his batting stance in the bottom of the seventh, and I know that another good hit must be coming to have made it into the highlights. His swing is clean and powerful, and it’s obvious that the hit was a home run before the camera even pans to it dropping in the stands, caught by a young boy.

The shot cuts back to Adrian jogging toward first base. He kisses his fingers and holds them up in the air, and I know he intended that for me. I know he’s thinking about me—just like he was when he had an enormous bouquet of stargazer lilies delivered to me at school today. The vase is in a box that’s seatbelted in the passenger seat next to me, giving the gray interior of my car a bright pop of pink.

I bite my lip, holding back a smile as I watch him run. Until my heart drops and I bite hard on the inside of my cheek. My pulse starts racing as panic parades through my thoughts.

Step out of the spiral. Step out of the spiral.

When the swirl continues, I look all around me, trying to count things I see. My fingers tremble as I fail to stop the escalation, as I feel myself dysregulating.

I place a hand over my sternum and tap my other hand firmly on it in a one-two-one-two-three-beat rhythm. It’s an old tool I learned from a therapist that I still utilize when the burning sensation of oversized feelings builds up in my chest. By the third repetition, the tension is easing, and I open the contacts in my phone.

Finding the right name, I hit the call button.

It rings and rings until it goes to voicemail. “Hi, you’ve reached Amber Lansing, LMFT with Rose Behavioral Health Clinic. Please leave a message with your name and contact number, plus a short reason for your call, and I’ll get back to you within one business day. Thank you.”

At the beep, I start to leave a message, but I’m interrupted by the sound of an incoming call. It’s Amber, so I hang up on the voicemail and answer her new call.

“Amber, hi! You can delete the message I was in the middle of on your voicemail,” I say.

Her voice is the same as it’s always been—a perfectly cooled cup of hot tea stirred with honey. “Samantha, it’s so lovely to hear from you! It’s been a little while since we talked last. I was typing up some clinical notes and didn’t answer my phone in time. What prompted your call today?”

One of the things I’ve always appreciated about Amber is how she leads our conversations with a gentle yet firm hand. I never feel uncomfortably pushed but like I’m given a clear invitation into specific topics. She’s been an anchor for the past twelve years, even if our communication washes in and out with the tides of life.

I’m sensing high tide coming again.