Prologue

Grady

Senior Year of High School

“Good luck today, Grady!” one of the JV players shouts at me as he shuffles down the hallway past the lockers.

“Thanks.” I turn back to my open locker, shoot a text off to my mom about what time my game starts, then grab my math book and secure the lock on my locker before heading to class. Nerves run through me, the kind that usually fuel my focus to win our games, but today’s game is different. Today’s game could determine my future.

A few more kids offer their good luck wishes as I amble down the hall, and even the teachers standing by their doors chime in as I pass by. Over the past three years, Carrington Cove High School has had a winning baseball program, and much of that has to do with my performance on the pitching mound. So today’s game is just as much about me as it is about the school.

Settling into my desk in my math class, I flip open my textbook to the section we’ve been working on, cleaning some of the grease left under my fingernails from working at Carrington Cove Auto Repair. While I wait for class to start, a familiar voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Have you thrown up yet?”

Green eyes meet mine, the same green eyes that have become a source of comfort for me over the past year, as Scottland Daniels takes her seat right next to me, her bright smile making my own lips curl up in response.

Chuckling, I reply, “No, not yet, Scottie. I haven’t eaten much today, so hopefully that will help.”

She shakes her head at me as she digs her notebook out of her backpack. “You need to eat something, Grady. If you don’t, you could end up passing out on the mound in front of the scouts, and that would be even worse than you playing a shitty game.”

I swallow hard, envisioning what she just said and the embarrassment that would follow. “Crap. You’re right.” I dig out the protein bar from my backpack I keep for emergencies, tear open the wrapper, and shove the entire thing in my mouth as Mrs. Williams, our Algebra II teacher, signals that class is about to start.

Scottie laughs at me. “That was a little dramatic, but at least you know how to listen.”

“My mother taught me well.”

Smirking, she directs her attention to our teacher, and for the next twenty minutes, we take notes on the lesson until it’s time for us to work on today’s assignment. I twist in my desk to face hers and try my best to focus on the problems I need to complete, but Scottie is the only person who understands what today means for me, so our conversation drifts back to the topic neither one of us can ignore.

“So how many will there be?” she asks as she jots down the steps to the problem, rushing toward her answer. The NSYNC stickers plastered all over her folder catch my eye, and for the millionth time I find myself wondering how the hell she listens to that god awful music, but I keep that thought to myself.

“I think five.” My stomach twists in knots at the reminder.

“That’s amazing. Five scouts coming to see you, Grady!” She grins across her desk at me. “That’s everything you’ve been working toward.”

“I know, but now that it’s happening…”

“It’s becoming more real,” she finishes for me.

“Yeah. What if none of them make me an offer?”

“Or what if they all do?” she counters. “Have you thought of that?”

It’s a possibility. I know that. And then the problem becomes making a decision. “I doubt that will happen…”

She glares at me, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “Haven’t you heard of positive thinking? You have to manifest what you want, Reynolds. Negativity isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

Huffing out a laugh, I lean back in my desk chair. “Yeah, I guess. But what about you? Have you heard from any scouts?”

The pride that shows through her smile reminds me of why Scottie is the one friend I can talk to about this stuff. She’s the pitcher for our varsity girls’ softball team and has just as much promise and drive to play professionally as I do. It’s what solidified our friendship. She’s the only one who loves the sport and wants the same things out of it as I do. Plus, she’s smart, sassy, and gorgeous. I couldn’t help but want to get to know her.

“Of course. I was just letting you have your moment today, Grady. I didn’t want you to feel bad about how many scouts were coming to watch me play next week. I didn’t want to tear up your heart.”

“Was that an NSYNC reference?”

“Maybe. ”

“Stop while you’re ahead, Daniels.” Laughing, I write down the next problem, then drop my pencil to my desk. My concentration is shot, so there’s no point in pretending I’m going to get any work done right now. I’ll finish these problems later tonight after the game is over and I can breathe. “Your cockiness is showing.”

“What can I say? I know what I have to offer these schools. They’re the ones that need to prove to me which one I should choose, not the other way around.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

She tucks one of her soft, brown curls behind her ear, tilting her head at me. “You need to find it, Grady. That’s the only way to get where you want to go. Don’t doubt yourself. You’re a really freaking talented pitcher and you deserve this.”

“Likewise,” I tell her, and it’s the honest-to-God truth. Scottie is a beast on the mound. Other schools are scared of her because she’s ruthless. I freaking love watching her play, but part of that may just be because staring at her has become one of my new favorite pastimes besides baseball.

Pointing at her desk, she continues, “Go out there today, own that mound, and believe that this is the start of your professional baseball career.” Then she glances down at my hands stained with grease. “And if it doesn’t work out, at least you know how to turn a wrench.”

Laughing, I pick up my pencil again, not wanting to draw Mrs. Williams’ attention. “I like working on cars, Scottie. You should try it sometime. It’s far less stressful than pitching.”

She arches a brow at me. “Really? Less stressful?” Leaning closer to me, she continues, “You do realize that if you mess something up on someone’s car, it could mean life or death, right? Have you ever had that thought about pitching, Reynolds?” She blinks at me slowly.

“Shit. Okay, you’re right.”

Swinging her hair around, she goes back to work. “Again. I know.” Smirking, she glances up at me, and just that small purse of her lips has me fighting to stay firmly planted on my side of the line that defines our friendship.

My chest grows tight with that familiar twinge that seems to grow every time I talk to Scottie. I’m pretty sure I know what my heart and head are trying to tell me, but I can’t listen. I don’t have time for a girlfriend, and hell, high school is almost over. We’re both headed in different directions, possibly to opposite sides of the country.

Scottie is my friend, and that’s just the way it has to remain, even though the thought of tasting her lips has occupied my mind more nights than I care to admit.

“I’m going to give it my best today,” I say, breaking through our silence.

“I know you will,” she says, brushing her hair over her shoulder with a confident lift of her lips. “And I can’t wait to hear from you later when all five scouts start begging you to play for them.”

***

“I hope you get drafted to the Atlanta Braves so we can drive down and see you play,” Blane, one of my friends on the team, says as he takes a sip from his red Solo cup.

“Nah. He needs to play for the Red Sox. Since I’m gonna be in Boston, I can cheer him on,” declares Derek, our shortstop, to the group of my now former teammates gathered at the house party his parents are letting us throw.

It’s only a few days after graduation, but my life at the University of California, Santa Barbara, officially starts in a week. Just as Scottie predicted, all five scouts at my game made me offers. I gelled best with the coach from Santa Barbara, though, and their D1 baseball program is famous for sending players to the draft. Plus, their offer of a full ride made the decision a no-brainer. I fly out on Monday to start training and begin my journey to the MLB.

“Look, I gotta make it through the next three years with no injuries and hope to get drafted at twenty-one. There’s still a long road ahead of me, guys.”

Blane slaps me on the shoulder. “Yeah, but you’re living the dream, man. It’s not like any of us got an offer like you did. We’re gonna live vicariously through you, all right? You get to leave this town and hopefully never return.”

I chuckle, nod my head, then take a sip from my beer. I usually don’t drink at these parties because it makes me sluggish on the mound, but this is the last time I’m gonna see my friends for a while, so I gave into the peer pressure and filled my cup from the keg.

“I’m not the only one that’s leaving, though. Dallas is shipping out just two days after me.” I jerk my chin toward one of my close friends, Dallas Sheppard, who’s been standing there stoically, listening to the conversation.

“That’s right. You joined the Marines, huh?” Blane slurs and then salutes him.

Dallas scowls. “I did. And…” But he doesn’t get a chance to finish his thought.

“Scottie! Scottie! Scottie!” Cheers ring out from the crowd gathered around the keg, pulling all of our attention to the sight. And when the crowd parts, I see an upside-down Scottie doing a keg stand better than most guys I’ve seen .

Once she’s had enough, the boys holding her up bring her feet back to the ground where she wobbles a bit before shooting her arms up in the air in celebration.

Jesus, she’s something else .

“Scottie!” The group around her cheers again, and she high-fives several of them before our eyes lock and she heads in my direction, her eyes glazed over but her smile wide.

“Reynolds!” She throws her arms around me, pulling me down to her for a hug before shoving me back and brushing her curls from her face.

“A keg stand?” I ask, shocked to see her drunk. Scottie is normally as disciplined as I am when it comes to her health, prioritizing her performance on the ball field.

“It’s a party, Grady.” She shoves at my shoulder. “You don’t have to be such an old man all the time.”

My friends laugh at her dig. They know she’s right. I get shit from them on the regular because I don’t partake in the typical teenage activities. I’ve worked too fucking hard to risk my future, though, so they can laugh all they want.

I hold up my cup. “Hey, I’m having a beer, okay?”

She plants her hands on her hips. “Well, until you do a keg stand for longer than I just did, I’m not going to pretend that I’m impressed.”

My friends move toward the other side of the yard where more commotion has started, leaving the two of us alone. “I’m happy to let you keep the keg stand champion title.”

She smiles, a hint of challenge in her voice. “Wuss.”

I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to me, and begin walking to a more secluded area across the yard. There’s a tire swing attached to a huge oak tree, and Scottie slides her legs through the tire while I set my beer on the ground so I can push her.

“You ready for what comes next?” she asks, tilting her head all the way back and gazing at the sky through the leaves as she swings back and forth.

“California?”

“Yeah.”

“As ready as I can be.”

“Have you thrown up yet?”

Laughing, I say, “Nope. And I think if anyone is going to throw up tonight, it’s going to be you.”

She giggles. “You’re probably right.”

“You don’t usually drink, Scottie. Everything okay?”

She twists her head to the side so our eyes can meet as her entire body continues to lie flat while she swings. “Just trying to have a little fun, Reynolds. You should try it sometime. Life doesn’t always have to be serious.”

“I know how to have fun.”

She scoffs. “Okay…”

“You don’t think I can have fun?”

“I think you’re afraid to have fun.” She grows quiet for a moment, and then speaks again. “Promise me we’ll keep in touch.”

My chest aches instantly. “Of course, Scottie.”

“I’m serious. I’ll be cheering you on, Grady. I know you’re going to make it to the major leagues.”

“You’re going to make it too, Scottie.”

“Duh,” she says, making us both laugh.

“It’s going to be tough getting there.”

“Nothing we can’t handle though, right?” She smirks back at me. “I mean, we’re both kinda the shit in our respective sports.”

“Yeah, I think we’re definitely top-tier talent. ”

“I can’t wait to watch you on TV,” she says, dragging her feet on the ground as if she wants to slow down. When she swings back toward me, I grab the tire and pull her to a stop. Our eyes meet and everything around us grows quiet. Offering her my hand, I help her out of the tire, and she falls into my chest, her body off-balance from the alcohol and the swing. I wrap my arm around her back, holding her against me.

“You promise you’ll be watching?”

Her lips spread in a huge smile as her eyes bounce back and forth between mine. “Hell yeah.”

I smile back at that beautiful face and drag a finger down her cheek, making her breath hitch. For a moment, I wonder if I should kiss her, taste her since I know I’ll probably never get the chance again. She’s headed to the University of Georgia to play softball, and I’m headed to the opposite side of the country.

It’s only one kiss, one that I might regret not taking while I have this chance.

“Scottie…” I say, my voice nearly cracking from my nerves. Our eyes bounce back and forth between each other, and in that moment, I swear she’s leaning toward me. I can feel the heat of her breath on my lips, the scent of beer on her breath, or maybe that’s mine.

But then her eyes widen, she takes a step back, and turns away from me just in time to throw up her beer all over the grass.

“Shit.” I grab her hair as her body empties all of the alcohol from her system. “It’s okay, Scottie. Get it out.”

She heaves a few more times, and then stands up slowly. I release her hair but continue to rub her back. “Ugh. That was…”

“Disgusting,” I finish for her, turning away from the mess she left on the ground before I add to it with my own.

Laughing, she wipes at her mouth and then glances up at me. “Sorry about that. ”

“It’s all right. But I’d just like to point out that clearly it’s not me you need to be worried about throwing up all the time.” I shrug, but she rolls her eyes at me.

“Gloating isn’t a good look on you, Grady,” she says as she heads for the base of the tree, sitting down on the ground and lying back against the trunk.

I join her, motioning for her to lay her head down in my lap, and she does. Even though I know I should be hanging out with my friends and probably getting ready to head home soon, a part of me doesn’t want to leave.

That part of me just wants a few more moments with Scottie.

“I think I need to close my eyes for a few minutes,” she murmurs.

“Go ahead. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I wish you didn’t have to leave, Grady,” she mumbles as her eyelids flutter closed.

And in that moment, that same part of me from moments ago wishes the same.

***

Three Years Later

Scottie : Oh my god! You did it! You’re going to the minors, Grady!

Me : It’s fucking happening, Scottie! I fucking did it!

Scottie : I’m so proud of you!

Me : Thanks! What about you? I’ve been trying to keep up with your career, but life has just been crazy…

Scottie : Same here, but I’m still working. My coach says I have potential to make it to the USA Women’s National Team, I’ve just got to get through this season.

Me : That’s fucking awesome! You can do it, I know you can.

One Year Later

Me : Scottie! I’m getting called up! One year in the minors and the San Francisco Giants are calling me up!

One Month Later

Me : Scottie? I’m worried about you. I’ve been watching this season and haven’t seen you play. Is everything okay? Text me back.

Life has been insanely busy this past year, but Scottie and I still check in with each other occasionally. Not hearing from her as soon as I texted her has me worried to the point that I decide to call her. We never talk on the phone, just a text here and there, but I can tell something’s not right.

The line rings only once before a voice that’s not Scottie’s comes through.

My stomach plummets when I hear it.

“The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service.”

And instantly I know that I just lost the only person who ever truly understood me and my dreams.