Swing (Landry Family #2)(79)

I’m in his arms before I realize I’ve even moved, my head buried in the crook of his neck.

“I ran this by Graham this morning,” he laughs, “because if anyone can tell you you’re fucking stupid with no reservation, it’s him. He gave it his stamp of approval.”

It’s like every piece of the puzzle has been snapped back into place. I’m crying, but out of a mixture of disbelief and elation instead of fear and sadness. The one-eighty has my head spinning and I half expect to wake up and find out this is a dream.

His hands lock around my waist. “I really hope you’re okay with this because, if not, I just gave up my spot on the roster,” he laughs nervously.

I cup his cheeks, his skin smooth under my touch. “Are you sure? Absolutely one hundred and fifty million percent sure? Because I can’t live thinking you gave up your dream because of me. What if this doesn’t work out?”

“If it doesn’t work out, I’ll regret this one hundred and . . . how much? Fifty million?” he laughs. “Times less than I would regret playing baseball and wondering if we could’ve worked out. And,” he says, moving his head side to side as he smirks, “G would’ve been pissed when he had to bail me out of jail for beating the shit out of your dad.”

Laughing, I kiss his lips. “Are you sure? Like, completely sure.”

He tongue darts across his bottom lip. “I’m completely sure you’ve been eating chocolate donuts,” he chuckles.

I gasp. “I look like a mess.” I try to get up and already mentally have the shower on when he jerks me back.

“You are a mess. Which is why I know that we’re going to be fine.”

“How’s that?”

“Because you look exactly how I feel. Like when we aren’t together, the world is ending. Because if we aren’t together, maybe it has.” His features alight with mischief.

Leaning back on him again, I sigh. “I love you, Landry.”

“I love you, Ryan.”





Lincoln

SHE’S STANDING IN THE KITCHEN, her back to me. Her dark hair is a wild mess from last night, her ass only half-covered by my Arrows t-shirt. She has a mug of coffee in one hand, the phone to her ear with the other as she stirs scrambled eggs on the stove.

I stand in the doorway and watch her. This is what I’ve been looking for, the missing piece of my life that was only visible when everything else was stripped away. I never dreamed I’d be so thankful for my shoulder injury, but I am. God, I am.

There’s not a play I could make, a hit I could take, a game I could win that would give me the feeling of being with her. The peace in my soul. The happiness in my heart. The feeling of doing something that makes a difference.

In baseball, I was another player. Number eight. A payroll check, a device to sell tickets until I couldn’t play anymore. To her, I’m everything and can be that for the rest of my life. We can build our own empire together, our own team to take over the world.

“I called Gretchen this morning,” she says. “I gave my two week’s notice, but she let me leave immediately. I’m going without my vacation pay and all that, but I don’t care.” She sighs happily and then giggles. “I am,” she responds to whatever the person on the line said. “I am so happy. I don’t know what will happen, Macie, but I’m where I should be.”

I can’t take it anymore. I’m to her, my arms wrapped around her waist in two seconds. She nuzzles her head against me and I kiss the top of her head.

“No, the program will still go on thanks to an anonymous donor by the name of Lincoln Landry,” she laughs, elbowing me.

“I didn’t say it was me,” I whisper.

She rolls her eyes. “Macie, I need to go. I’m burning the eggs.”

I leave her to say goodbye and pour my own cup of coffee. Once she’s finished, she looks at me. “Gretchen is still talking about that donation.”

“Did you tell her it was me?”

Dani’s eyes light up at my admission, but I don’t care. She knows I did it. Or had Graham do it for me. Either way, same difference.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she says. “That program is so important to those kids.”

“What if Rockster gets sick again?” I ask. “I have to take care of my man.”

Danielle laughs and plates our breakfast. We sit at the table, her feet in my lap. “Do we even know what we’re doing?” she asks. “I feel like this all happened so fast.”

Taking a bite of the eggs, I shrug. “It did happen fast. At least this last part of it. And you know what?”

“What’s that?”

“I woke up this morning happier than I did when I was drafted. I feel like the bat is in my hands now—not the Arrows’ or my father’s or in limbo. I have it. And it feels good to swing.”

Her soft smile hits me squarely in the chest. Looking at her without the hesitation she used to have, without the fear, is everything to me. I wouldn’t trade it for the world . . . or fifteen million dollars.

“Is it odd I don’t feel nervous at all that I don’t have a job or a plan?”

Laughing, I squeeze her feet on my lap. “No. I’ll take care of you. Graham’s made me a lot of money.”