Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 68143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Superstitions were for people that were worried they’d lose.
I’d already lost.
There was no going any further down than I was right now.
The first pitch came and I watched it come.
Strike.
Second pitch came.
Ball.
Third pitch came.
Strike.
Fourth pitch came.
Ball.
Fifth pitch came.
Ball.
“Gotta swing, boyo!” I heard my uncle call out. “For the fence!”
For the fence.
I stepped back and tightened my gloves, readjusting my helmet.
Swing for the fence, Daddy!
His voice was so real in my head that I looked out into the crowd.
He should’ve been here.
God, he should’ve been here.
Tears in my eyes, I stepped back into the box and performed my routine.
The one that I’d started doing just after Jett was born.
I dragged my bat across the base. Once. Twice. Three. Four times.
J-E-T-T.
Once I was done spelling out Jett’s name, I swung my bat up onto my shoulder and waited.
The pitch came, and I somehow knew he was going to throw that slider.
I waited until the right second, then I swung.
The bat connected with the ball.
Crack.
I started running, not bothering to put any effort into the run.
I knew it was out of here.
You swung so fast, Daddy!
Wow, Daddy. That was the best at bat yet!
I can’t wait to see you wearing a Lumberjacks uniform!
You did it, Daddy.
By the time I rounded the third base line for home, I was openly crying.
Picking up my bat from the next hitter, I nodded my thanks, and he smiled at me sympathetically.
I swallowed hard, my gaze skidding away from his, and found my uncle in the crowd.
Uncle Parker had his hand over his heart, but it was the photo that he was holding up that really made me lose it.
Jett, screaming at the top of his lungs, his tiny little fingers clenching the fence so hard that they were white.
My favorite photo ever.
Uncle Parker had taken it during my last game.
My baby boy, my biggest fan.
Uncle Parker pointed at me and mouthed, “He’s proud.”
I wiped my tears and stepped into the dugout.
He would be proud.
If he was here.
Five years later
“You’re quitting?” Parker asked.
I looked at my hands. “I don’t have the heart for the game anymore.”
Parker shook his head. “This is what you’ve always wanted to do.”
I scrubbed at my face with both hands. “It was. When I had Jett. But my priorities have changed. I don’t want to anymore. The people and the places…I just don’t want anything to do with this life anymore. It’s too public. It makes me want to scream.”
“Then quit,” Uncle Parker’s wife, Kayla, suggested. “If you’re not happy, you shouldn’t be doing it. What would you do if you left the game?”
I had that planned out already, actually.
“I’m going to start up a company.” I hesitated, my eyes moving from Parker to Kayla and back. “One that specializes in school security. I’m going to make schools impenetrable. With your help, Uncle Parker.”
Parker’s eyes went soft. “I’d do anything for you, kid. You know that.”
I nodded. “I’ve spent the last five years doing research in my every available second. I’ve done all the legwork. I’ve started the LLC—Angel Security. I have fourteen retired military members already waiting in the wings for me to make the call. But I want you to go over them first, make sure that you like them and that you think it’ll work well. Or, if you have any suggestions on who you think would be better, I’m fine with that, too.”
Kayla pressed her hands to her mouth, and I saw that she had tears in her eyes.
“This is perfect,” she whispered. “Jett would be so proud of you, Gunner.”
I rubbed at the ache that never quite left my chest. “I think this is where I’m meant to be.”
“Then fly, Gun,” Parker said. “We’ll help you.”
One
It is what it is, and it’s not that great.
—Sutton’s secret thoughts
SUTTON
Three years ago
“Today’s your day, bestie.” Rocky smiled.
Today I got married to a man who was not the love of my life, but the one man who treated me somewhat good.
I loved him.
Not in a great love kind of way, but in a steady, this is all I’m going to get kind of way.
I know that sounded bad, but we both knew what this was.
A marriage of convenience.
We got along, and we were mostly good friends.
He wasn’t my best friend—Rocky still held that honor—but he was good to me.
He could be kind of a jerk, at times. But what man wasn’t?
“Let’s do this,” I grumbled.
I had a bad feeling about this day, though.
A premonition that I should’ve probably listened to.
I should love this man with my whole heart.
I should be excited to marry him.
I should be a lot of things, but I was none of those things.
The ceremony itself was uneventful.
We got married, he kissed me, and we went to our reception.
I was in a thousand yards of tulle and lace, and we were about to cut the cake.