Page 141 of Instigator
Walks straight back to me.
Before I can ask what he’s doing, he cups my face and kisses me hard enough to make the crowd around us whistle.
When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against mine.
“Thank you.”
The words are quiet. Raw. And somehow far more emotional than I expected.
I smile. “Go throw your pitch, baseball boy.”
His grin flashes.
Then he heads for the mound. The stadium seems impossibly large from here. Thousands of people. Bright lights. The catcher crouched behind home plate.
Aidan reaches the rubber and rolls his shoulders once. Twice. The giant video board catches him, and the crowd cheers louder. I can see the exact moment he remembers he’s an elite athlete.
His posture settles.
His nerves fade.
He raises the ball.
Takes aim.
And fires.
The ball cuts through the air in a perfect arc. The catcher barely has to move his glove. Pop.
Strike.
The crowd erupts. Aidan’s face lights up like all of his dreams have just come true.
And for a second, standing on that mound, with his arms spread wide and the stadium cheering around him, he looks happier than I’ve ever seen him.
Like every backyard game.
Every childhood dream.
Every what-if.
All came true at once.
He jogs off the field to another round of applause, grinning so hard his cheeks have to hurt. The second he reaches me, he scoops me off my feet.
“You got me a strike.”
I laugh as he spins me in a circle. “You threw the strike.”
“Details.”
When he finally sets me down, his eyes are shining. Actually shining.
The same man who spent years carrying the weight of everyone around him. The same man who believed being strong meant handling everything alone. The same man who once looked at me and thought he wasn’t allowed to want more.
Now he’s standing in the middle of a baseball stadium, surrounded by our friends and family, looking like he has everything he’s ever wanted.
And maybe he does.
