Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“You didn’t ask,” I said, touching the base deliberately with my foot. I laughed as she slapped my ass to get me moving again.
“We’ve got a motherfuckin’ ringer,” Tommy shouted as I came off the field.
“Yeah,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “And I think it’s your wife.”
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve watched her with my boys. I already knew she was good.”
As the game continued, shirts were discarded, trash talk increased, and someone carried a huge cooler of beer and soda over to the field. I grinned like an idiot as I watched Charlie come up to bat. She sauntered. There wasn’t any other word to describe it. Playing in a tiny sundress, no helmet, with her hair streaming down her back, she stepped up to home plate like she owned the damn field. When she met my gaze and pointed above my head, my smile grew.
“Bring the heat, Tommy!” Molly yelled.
“Woman,” Tommy yelled back, turning his head to look at her. “I got one speed, alright?”
Molly lifted her hands in surrender as she laughed.
“Just try not to hit me,” Charlie called out dryly.
She hit the first pitch, and just like she’d foreshadowed, the softball went flying over my head and into the field.
“Oh!” she yelled, dropping her bat and throwing her hands into the air. “That’s right!”
She did a little dance to first base, then moonwalked halfway to second before spinning on her heel and marching like a tin soldier.
“My girl’s always gotta be the center of attention,” Farrah joked.
“Wonder where she got that,” Callie said with a snicker.
I was watching the field and keeping my mouth shut, because they’d found the ball and were trying to get it back to me at third base. My lips started twitching as one of the younger kids threw it toward me, and Charlie must’ve noticed my distraction because suddenly, she was running hell bent for leather in my direction. Just as I stepped off the base to catch the ball, she came sliding in at my feet.
“Motherfucker,” she gasped.
As I turned toward her, the ball hit the ground behind me.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered, crouching down.
We were playing in the grass, and it was all pretty soft, but somehow she’d found the one spot on our makeshift diamond that must have had a rock or branch, because she’d tore the hell out of one leg from knee to hip.
“I’m okay,” she said, climbing to her feet. “I’m good. Get the ball.”
“Fuck that,” I muttered, watching as blood started to drip down her leg.
“No pain, no gain, baby,” she said, grinning at me.
“You’re fuckin’ nuts,” I replied, reaching for her.
“If you think I’m quitting before I get a run, you’re nuts.”
“Fine,” I said, clenching my jaw as even more blood ran down her leg. I waved her forward. “Go.”
“What’s goin’ on?” Casper yelled.
“All good, father dear,” Charlie called back as she started jog-limping toward home plate.
“Aw, shit,” someone said from the sidelines. I wasn’t sure who it was and I didn’t even bother turning to look. I was too busy following on Charlie’s heels as she made her awkward run home.
“Boom,” she said as she touched her foot to the base. “Nailed it. Home run.”
“Molly,” I yelled as I literally swept Charlie off her feet. I gingerly held her legs, trying not to hurt her. “She’s gonna need some first aid.”
“It’s just a scratch,” Charlie said, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“At the very least, you need to clean it out,” Farrah said as she reached us. “That looks nasty.”
“Thanks, mom.”
“Game’s over,” Casper yelled. “We won.”
“The hell you did,” Tommy argued, throwing his glove at us. “Charlie’s run was a fuckin’ pity run!”
“Tommy’s gonna kill you,” Charlie sang in my ear.
“Just ran over to tell you, sorry,” Molly said, out of breath. “I can’t help you, I’m off the clock.”
I looked at her in surprise.
“She’s joking,” Charlie said, squeezing my shoulder. “She always says that.”
“Better take her inside,” Molly ordered, smiling. “We need to clean that out and see what we’re working with.”
“I can walk,” Charlie said as I strode toward the back door of the clubhouse. “You’re overreacting.”
“I can feel blood running down the back of my hand,” I replied, glancing down at her.
“My legs aren’t broken. It’s just a scratch.”
“Good man,” Kara’s dad Mack said with a nod, holding the door open for us.
“Oh, good grief,” Charlie said with a huff. “You’ve been in way worse shape and people let you walk on your own two feet!”
Mack glanced down at himself as we passed him.
“Who you think’s gonna be able to carry me?” he asked with a laugh.
I followed Farrah and Molly into a room and sat Charlie on the bed.
“Roll onto your side,” Farrah ordered. “You’re getting blood on my quilt.”
“See,” Charlie said, grinning up at me. “The quilts are meant to be used.”