Page 101

For just a second, I put myself in her shoes and try to see it the way she does. Not as my job or as my everyday. But as my dream. Surreal.

The thing we always talked about.

"It still doesn't feel real to me either, honestly," I admit aloud for the first time ever. "Not when I really think about it, ya know?"

She goes quiet, and I blink away the guesses as to why, finding my spot out on the field.

"I always wondered if you were happy," she finally says. I look at her, and she looks back with her lips pressed into a simple smile. "Hoped for it."

I offer her the same, but tension knots in my chest that makes me have to turn away.

"I am." I roll my lips together and prop one foot on the seat in front of me. "But it still feels like something I could lose."

"I guess you could, right?" she says. "Not that it'll happen but…" She doesn't finish. She doesn't need to.

We're both familiar with losing things you least expect.

"Yeah, no, you're right. I could. And I think that's why I stopped revolving everything around it."

She sucks in a quiet breath, and I wonder if she sees the connection I never meant to make.

"It's still such a big part of my life. But—"

"But it isn't everything."

Lenny says it like she agrees—like she can relate. Like she understands fitting your whole life into a box only to realize that there's an entire world outside of it.

A silence falls between us—not uncomfortable, just reflective. Seconds pass that are full of years of memories. Of baseball and just starting out. Of CMU and the league. Of her.

Of us.

"So, Vienna's surgery went well?" Lenny sits up straighter in the seat, resetting.

I clear my throat of the words I thought but didn't say. "Uh, yeah. I went with my mom and stepdad to get her settled at home before I got here. She's probably sleeping now."

She pivots toward me. "Did you want to check in on her. We don't have to—"

"Lenny."

I say her name so easily, but it still hits me hard every time I hear it out loud.

"Relax, it's fine. I want to be here." I smile, finally allowing just my hand to fall slightly, brushing the tip of my thumb against the fabric of her shirt. The touch is so faint it barely registers. And yet, I still feel it everywhere. "It was my idea, remember?"

She exhales, shifting back against my arm as if it's natural.

And maybe it still feels like it is.

It does to me.

"Well, I'm glad everything went well. I'm sure this waiting period will be tough."

I nod slowly, a million thoughts running through my mind as I stare straight ahead at the field illuminated by the stadium lights.

"It'll be… bittersweet. The second she woke up, she asked when they were going to turn it on. But she also seemed relieved when they reminded her that it would take some time before it worked."

"I can understand that." Lenny's eyes trace the white lines that mark the turf, her gaze wandering the field like they have since the moment I pushed open the tunnel door. "That's sort of how each contract feels to me. Each day ending means one shift's done, but it also puts me one step closer to leaving. To starting over."

That tightness grows.