“You want a water?” I ask as we’re nearing the top of the fourth inning. The sun has angled in a way it’s not roasting us anymore, but I’m so thirsty I could drink the day-old water bottle sitting in my car right now.

“Yeah.” She reaches into her pocket to hand me some money.

“I got it, you want anything else?”

“Nah, the food makes me sick when I get hot.” She shakes her head, clapping as the team gets a hit.

Throwing my purse around my neck so that it lays across my body, I get up and navigate my way through the aisle. Some guy whistles as I stick my cut-off covered ass in his face by accident, and I turn around, giving him an evil eye. “In your dreams.”

“In every single one of them.” He gives me a wink, licking his lips, his stare suggestive.

“Everything good here?” The deep voice standing over our aisle is one that still causes goosebumps to form along my forearms. It still gives me a thrill, even if it shouldn’t. Even if I haven’t heard that tone in ten years.

“I think so,” I answer as I glance up into the brown eyes of the man who introduced me to my love of the game.

The person who was staring at my ass is now staring at him, gaping. “Savage? Oh my God, can I get your autograph?”

“Not after you ogled her ass, man that’s my high-school sweetheart.”

Hearing him say those words lights up a spot in my chest that’s been dark for far too long. “You still call me that?”

“To anyone who will listen.” He offers me his hand as I climb over the row, to get to the aisle. The small touch sparks in between us, but it’s probably just because I haven’t been touched by a man in so long. At least that’s what I tell myself. “There wasn’t more than one, Mal, you know that as well as I do.”

As he pulls me over and I get situated, he helps to right me. His eyebrows come together in question, amusement playing on his face. “What are you doing here? Watching a minor league game?”

“What? You think I don’t watch baseball just because I don’t have a vested interest in it anymore.” He doesn’t need to know that I haven’t watched it in years, especially when I’m feeling sassy.

“Son of a bitch.” He grabs his chest, stumbling back a little. “That hurt, sweetness. Right there in the motherfuckin’ chest.”

I give a little laugh. “Kayla invited me, her family has season tickets. I didn’t have anything else to do today and thought maybe I’d like to get out in the sunshine,” I explain. “What’s with the sweetness? You’ve never called me that.”

“You smell like cake, or frosting.” he leans in, sniffing of my hair.

“It’s because I’m working at Sweeties,” telling him more in this little conversation we’re having than I’d really wanted to. Hell, we’re talking more than we have in the last decade.

“The bakery? Mom got some brownies from there the other day and they were to die for.”

“I’ve only worked two shifts, so I’m pretty sure they weren’t from me. I’ll pass the message along.” I grip the strap of my purse, forcing it to keep me grounded. I can’t lose my mind around this man; pretend things are different than what they are. “I was going to get some water, it’s hot out here.” I wipe the sweat off my forehead.

“I bet you forgot how hot the South gets, what with being out in California for so long,” he follows along as I turn to the concession stands.

“There is something to be said for that dry heat.” I slow my pace so that we can walk together. He’s without crutches, but a brace covers his knee, and causes his gait to be slightly stunted. “When will you be able to take it off for good?” I point down.

“Next week and it can’t come fast enough. This shit is hurting my hip. But it’s only when I walk. If I drive, or anything like that, it’s easier - I was cleared to do that last week. What I can’t wait to do is run,” he admits as we get in line behind a group of what look to be adults out on day dates.

“You still run, huh?” I ask him, allowing my gaze to move up and down his body. He’s still lean, still an athlete, and still amazingly fit even though he’s been injured. He rests his hands on his hips, pulling his t-shirt flush against the tight muscles of his stomach.

“You know that’s my relief from everything.” He gives me a bored look, pursing his lips. “From stress, annoying people, sexual tension. Nothing can’t be fixed with a couple of miles on a path or on a treadmill, and I’ve been missing it for far too long.”

The way he says sexual tension, I know he’s baiting me. To this day I’ve never had a lover as good as Savage Harlow, but I wisely ignore it. “Hopefully you’ll be able to get back to that soon.”

“Needs to happen quicker than I can tell you.” He stretches his neck as he moves it around on his shoulders. It’s a move that’s undeniably sexy, like a caged panther not sure how to deal with pent up desire. There’s a tension there that I can see, and inexplicably I kinda wanna help him work it out. “I’m not used to being cooped up and not feeling that adrenaline rush, ya know?”

I don’t know, but I do remember how he’d bounced with energy when people had tried to get him to sit still, how it’d seemed he was a whole new person after he’d get done with his runs. Distinctly there are memories pushing against my conscious of how he’d move in his sleep on the rare nights we got to sleep next to one another. “Can you walk?” I ask him slowly.

“What do you mean?”

“Like walk at a fast clip? It’s what I do. Right now I can’t afford a gym membership and you know I’ve never been a runner.” I allow the embarrassment to color my cheeks. “It’s a long story, but the truth is I can’t, so I’ve been walking at the track over at the high school. I go out there, work up a sweat, and try to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do with my life. It’s working pretty well for me.”

“I can.” he nods. “But they don’t want me to do it alone. I can’t take anymore of my parents looking at me like I’m about to break, and Six doesn’t give two shits about me.” He motions to the field with his hand. “I don’t have any friends left from high school.”

The sadness in his tone, the way it looks like he would rip his skin off and shred it if given the chance, makes me reach out my hand to him. I’ve never liked to see him in pain, never liked to see him doubt himself. It’s a lonely world when you lose everyone you’ve ever known. We both know that, and to see him going through it a second time affects me. He grips my fingers with his, offering up a small smile.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

The invitation is out before I can stop it. In ways it’s like coming home again. The last time I was in this small town, Slater had been my entire life. Coming back while we’re both going through such big changes? It doesn’t seem like a coincidence to me.

“You serious? I might slow you down a little.”

“Doesn’t matter.” I shrug. “I seem to remember someone walking slowly with me in the halls our junior year when I sprained my ankle and carrying my books while I was on crutches.”

“You don’t have to repay me for that.” He scowls, dropping his hand from mine. “I did it because I loved you.”

“And I’m doing this because, no matter how much water is under our bridge, I still care about you. You were a huge part of my life for so many years. As much as I’ve wanted to, and as much as I’ve tried, I can’t turn it off.”

Those are the truest words I’ve ever spoken. As much as I don’t want to worry about him, I do. As much as I convince myself I haven’t watched from afar, I have.

“Well, give me your number, so we can get a time to meet up.” He holds out his phone. “Text yourself, and then we’ll be able to set up a schedule.”

“I can’t believe Savage is handing me his phone. There’s no telling whose numbers are in here.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “You’re one of the only people I’ve ever trusted, Mal. Even after you ripped my heart out, I knew I could trust you.”

“Thanks.” I grin as I input my info and hand him the phone back. “I need to get something to drink and then get back to Kayla.”

“Crazy to think you’re here with her, and I’m here with you.”

“Yeah.” When it’s my turn, I order two waters. “What can I say? Maybe coming back is doing both of us some good, even though neither one of us really wanted to be here.”

The worker hands me the waters as I turn to Slater. “Text me, and we’ll set up a time to meet. I promise I won’t flake out on you.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he tells me as I turn to walk back to my seat.

The whole way there I can feel his eyes on my ass, and I’m wondering what in the hell I just opened myself up to.

I’m not sure what just happened between the two of us, but I’ll take it. After dreading seeing her for so many years and figuring it would go one way, I’m kinda thrown by the two encounters we’ve had go another way. Maybe that was just me planning for the worst and hoping for the best. Either way, I think I might like having her back in my life, even if it is as a friend. Back in the day, she and I? We’d been the best of friends. There was no one else I would tell my secrets to. No one else I’d trust more than her.

As I sit in the aisle seat our family has purchased for the season, my mom looks at me. “That took you a long time. Are you okay?”

“Fine.” I throw some of the boiled peanuts I got in my mouth. “I ran into Malone.”

“And how’d that go?”

Mom had rooted for us, even after she’d left. She’d listened to me wallow in my own misery for a week and then told me to go after her. I never did, but now, with the turn my life is taking, I kinda wish I had. “It went okay, I got her number.” I pull my phone out of my pocket, searching for her contact info.

Immediately I go to the M’s, but when I don’t see it, I get a sinking feeling in my gut. Maybe she’s not ready to move past what we did to each other. Maybe I’ve been reading the whole situation wrong. Thumbing back through my contacts, I’m looking for something that will jump out at me, something that will tell me it’s Malone. Confused, I go to see the text she sent to herself, laughing as I see it labeled Ex-Fiancée with a smiley face emoji next to it. At one point, her putting that in there would have pissed me off beyond belief. I probably would have thrown my phone and refused to speak to anyone for the next few hours. Today, it causes laughter to bubble up in my stomach, and I shake my head, remembering how much I loved her sense of humor. How she could keep me laughing for hours. It hits me with great clarity; maybe I am ready to move on.

“Now batting third, Crafton Harlow!” Is there any wonder why my brother goes by Six? Crafton had been my great-grandfather’s name, and while I know he takes great pride in that, it’s not really the coolest of names.

“C’mon, Six!” I clap loudly as he takes his place in the batter’s box.

With a critical eye I watch as he digs in, squaring himself up. He’s gotten bulkier since the last time he visited me in Birmingham, and it’s obvious he’s been working hard in the gym. His priorities might be a little skewed, but there’s no doubt he’s a hard worker who will figure out what he needs to by the time he gets there. “Be patient!” I yell through cupped hands as the pitcher throws a breaking ball that looks like it’s right down the middle until the last second.

My heart is pounding in my chest as I watch him take his bat. I’m not sure why this makes me so nervous, but I want him to do well. For both him and for me. There’s nothing that makes me happier than to see him succeed.

He lays back on the pitches, and I’m proud of him for showing growth and patience. He doesn’t immediately go for the first ball - he works the pitcher. Shows he’s got the eye and determination of a veteran as he steps out of the box, rubbing his face on his shoulder, practicing a few more swings, after getting the count to three and one. This pitch is the make it or break it, I feel it in my bones.

When it comes across the plate, it’s so far down the middle I can see it from where I sit in the stands. The crack of the bat is deafening as he launches it high into the air, turning at just the last second to shift his hands farther back, and direct it over the outfield wall. The stands go wild as he flips the bat and starts to take his lap around the bases.

We’re yelling and screaming for him. The pride I feel that I was here to see it is immense. When he puts his cleat on home plate, he looks up at us in the stands and double taps his heart – it’s what I do when my family is in the stands – and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. No matter how much we annoy each other, we’re still brothers and we’re still proud of the work both of us have done.