Page 17 of Now and Then

“Sure I do.” He rests his left hand on the steering wheel and holds his coffee mug with his right. “You hear something?”

Tanned and muscled forearms peek out from where he’s got his sleeves rolled up. I wipe the corner of my mouth, knowing I’m most likely drooling. There is just something about this man and his forearms and his ability to drive one-handed.

“Focus, Sutton.” He laughs that deep laugh I love so much. The one that breaks the ever-present tension between us.

“It’s your own fault,” I say under my breath. “Your forearms should be illegal.”

His grip tightens on the steering wheel, but he doesn’t quip back.

“Does the fact that you and Don were having a grand ol’ time last night have anything to do with said design job?”

I pull out my phone and reread the email I wish I could forget.

“Dammit,” Hunter says. “I’m sorry, babe. I know how much you wanted that opportunity.” He doesn’t say more than that and focuses on maneuvering off the path and onto a smaller road that leads to our lake.

The bumpy path mirrors how I feel inside, like my whole world is upside down and sideways. I’m so used to having an iron grip on my life. I’m not used to being told I can’t do something. Even growing up, I was so dead set on matching Luke and Hunter in everything, failure has been almost foreign in my life.

Sutton: 16 years old. Hunter: 19 years old.

“Sutton,” Hunter says softly, “you can’t play baseball.”

We’re standing on the lawn in my backyard. Luke and Hunter have been practicing for a little while now, and I’ve decided to join them.

Hunter tosses a baseball into the air and catches it in his glove. He throws it to Luke, who catches it easily.

“How do you know that?” I ask.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Because you’ve never done anything remotely athletic in your whole life.”

I’d like to smack my brother’s stupid face right now. These two think they’re so cool having been on the varsity baseball team since they were sophomores.

“Maybe not,” I say, “but it doesn’t mean I can’t do it.” I roll my shoulders. “Can’t be all that hard if you two play.”

“Oh-ho, Sutton’s got jokes!” Hunter tosses me his extra glove.

“Time to put up or shut up,” Luke says. Then he saves himself and backs away from the two of us.

I slide my hand into the soft, worn leather glove. My heart definitely doesn’t stutter when I see Hunter’s name written on the edge. At least that’s what I tell myself. I open my hand a few times to test it out. I’ve watched these two play baseball for years, so I figure I’ll get the hang of it quick. Hunter walks forward and hands me the ball. His eyes don’t leave mine as he backs away.

When he’s about fifteen feet from me, he motions with his chin for me to throw the ball. I roll my eyes, pull my arm back, and release the ball. It sails through the air, landing in his glove with a loud smack.

Hunter’s and Luke’s mouths gape open.

“Told you.” I sway my shoulders back and forth.

“Beginners luck,” Luke says. “True test is if you can catch.”

“Ready?” Hunter doesn’t hold back as he sends the ball flying back to me. I don’t take my eyes off it and briefly contemplate how much it’ll hurt to catch a baseball with my face, but at the last second, I open my glove, and it lands in the web.

I throw the ball back to him, releasing a relieved breath. I can’t believe I pulled that one off. When I look at Hunter, he’s got this goofy smile on his face that I match with one of my own.

I won’t lie. I like it when I make him proud.

“Hey,” Hunter grips my thigh. “Where’d you just go?”

I laugh. “That day I proved to you I could play baseball.”

He wipes his mouth with one hand, trying to hide that same goofy smile he gave me that day. “One of my favorite days.”