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I laughed with him and took my place with my teammates for the national anthems.

Three innings later I was reconsidering my optimism. Washington had gotten to our starter early, scoring five in the bottom of the first. I’d finally managed to get us on the board, bringing in Julio from third with a sacrifice fly, but we were still down by four, and Washington had the bases loaded with nobody out in the bottom of the fourth. I saw no way out of this without them scoring at least a run or two.

In my role as DH, all I could do was stand at the rail and hope everyone on the field did their jobs. The skipper could move players around, put in pinch hitters, make pitching changes, but my hands were tied. I’d been playing long enough that I could predict many of the moves he would make, but he had to execute them.

I rapped my knuckles on the rail, trying to contain my nervous energy as the Washington DH came to the plate. He was a notorious power hitter, known for both home runs and line-drive doubles to left field. Raine was in left today, playing close to the line. Our third baseman, Noah, was a rookie fresh out of college who was doing a solid job at third. He was playing close to the bag to hold the runner, because our pitcher was a little wild.

The pitcher went into his stretch, throwing a fastball that caught way too much of the plate. I grimaced as the bat connected, a solid crack that could only mean multiple runs. It felt like slow motion as I saw the ball soar down the third base line, and Noah leaped high, trying to snag it before it sailed over his head into left field.

Thunk. The ball hit the leather of Noah’s glove, and Noah landed in the dirt. One quick step and he touched third base before the runner got back to the bag. He whirled and threw the ball to second, but the runner on second made it back in time.

Damn. If we’d gotten him, we would be out of this inning. Still. It was an incredible double play, totally changing the dynamic of the inning. Maybe we actually had a chance. The next batter struck out, and we went into the fifth still down by four, but with momentum on our side.

“Great play.” I clapped Noah on the back as he came down the dugout stairs. “You really saved the inning for us.”

Noah’s face flushed until his cheeks were almost as bright as his flame-red hair. “Thanks. I got lucky.”

“Luck is part of baseball.” Helping Noah understand that taking advantage of bounces that went our way mattered—it showed he was aware of everything going on around him.

Teaching the younger players to be better fielders, to have more situational awareness, was something I was good at. I’d enjoyed the time I spent mentoring the players this season. It might be a way for me to stay in baseball after I retired.

“Now let’s get some runs and take this game back,” Julio said, heading up the stairs to take his place in the batter’s box.

In the end, we scored two in the fifth, two in the sixth, and three in the eighth to take the win eight to five.

When the game was over, I marched into our manager’s office. Getting Jane back would mean moving to Red Rock and no longer playing. But maybe I didn’t have to give up baseball entirely. Maybe Skip could give me some advice on how to execute my idea.

Chapter 40

Jane

August

I switched on the radio as I started prepping ingredients for today’s bakes. Eighties pop music blasted through the bakery, and I tried to drown myself in the music as I measured and mixed. I was exhausted, but with all the orders pouring in, taking a day off was not an option.

I kept reminding myself that this was my choice, and I’d made the right decision. Carter was living his life in Vancouver, and trying to do a relationship long distance was a bad idea. So why did my heart feel like there was a fist-size hole punched through it?

It didn’t help that I couldn’t quit watching the Vancouver team play. Every night I scoured the broadcast for a glimpse of Carter, freezing the shot to see if he looked happy.

Vancouver had a lot to be happy about. After the team had completely rebuilt their roster during the All-Star break, something magical happened. They’d lost their first five games with the new players, and then they’d gone on a wicked hot streak, winning twelve games in a row. They had climbed out of last place in their division.

New divisions had been created by the expansion, and there were only four teams in each division. It was premature to even think about the playoffs, but it was exciting to see Vancouver doing well.

I had just put the final batch of cookies onto a cooling rack when the opening chords of Gowan’s “When There’s Time (for Love)” filled the store. I couldn’t ignore how closely the lyrics mirrored my relationship with Carter. Our timing was wrong. We were in different places in our lives. I wanted the stability of home, where I could build my life my way. Carter deserved the freedom to chase his own dreams of playing in the World Championship.

Did I love him? More than I thought I could. Which was why I had to let him go. It wasn’t fair keeping him tethered to me when he needed to be free. None of which stopped me from wanting to howl from the pain of letting him go.

I ignored the tears running down my cheeks as I decorated the cooled cookies. I was doing what I loved, and I’d done the best thing for both of us. Right? Right.

“Did you see the game last night?” Emily raced in the back door, throwing her purse on the desk and grabbing an apron. “What am I saying? Of course you did.” She scanned the list of tasks and began mixing buttercream for cakes.

I nodded, ducking my head to dry my tears on my sleeve before Emily saw me crying. “I saw. The team is doing amazing. If they keep this up, they might even overtake San Diego by the end of the month.”

It was an unbelievable turnaround for a team that everyone had written off. I was so happy for Carter, and proud that he had been part of the team’s success. Which didn’t make his absence any less painful. Too many things reminded me of him. Even working at the Airfield was filled with memories of him helping me.

Emily hummed along with the music on the radio as we worked, and I tried to stop thinking about Carter. I had bigger things to worry about. Our concession sales were still strong, although attendance had declined a little after most of the regular players got called up to Vancouver, and new ones were assigned to Red Rock. Our ballpark sales were down, and I worried that it might mean the team wouldn’t extend our contract. We had to get that extension.

The good news was that the visibility had definitely helped with walk-ins and custom jobs. We were busier than we had ever been, and profitability was on the horizon. All of which was great, but the Fliers still hadn’t confirmed my contract for next year, and our season was almost over.