Unforgettable (Cloverleigh Farms #5)(41)

I laughed. “Did I? That was my big line?”

“Mmhm. And it worked.”

“I thought it was something with your hair.”

“Well, it was that too. You put your hand in my hair and then you said it.”

“That was all it took, huh?”

“That was it.”

I kissed the top of her head. “I have better game now.”

“You know what? I liked it. It didn’t feel like game. It felt real.”

“It was.” I held her a little tighter. “It was real.”





After a quick room service breakfast—fruit and coffee for April; eggs, bacon, fruit, waffles, and coffee for me—I dropped her off at Cloverleigh Farms to get her car and told her I’d see her tonight. The weather was beautiful already—sunny, mild, cloudless—and the temperature was supposed to reach the low seventies by later afternoon. She was thrilled because Sadie was going to be happy.

Afterward, I went back to the hotel, worked out at the gym, grabbed a shower, and headed over to the high school field.

A thousand memories flooded my brain as soon as I got out of the car and looked up at the lights, the stands, the dugouts, the mound. It was just after ten, and the team was warming up by running sprints.

David saw me approaching and lifted a hand. I waved back and walked over to where he stood along the fence. “Morning,” I said.

“Morning.” He shook my hand and smiled. “Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” I stuck my hands in my pockets, watching as the team finished up the sprints and another coach yelled instructions at them. They scattered, grabbing their gloves and spreading out on the field.

“The kid I wanted you to see is the last one down on the right,” he said. “Come on, let’s mosey in that direction so you can take a look.”

“Sure.” We ambled slowly along the fence, and a nice, familiar feeling settled over me as I watched the team playing catch in the morning sun. I’d missed being around baseball.

As we walked, David pointed out different players, told me about the team’s record, what the remainder of the season looked like, which guys might have a shot at college ball. “No one is like you, of course—never has been and never will be another Tyler Shaw—but we’ve got some talent. Chip there, the lefty, has been talking to a few schools.”

I watched the kid throw—he did have a good arm. “Oh yeah? Which ones?”

“Clemson, LSU, Florida State.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah, he’s got talent.” David squinted at the field. “Got kind of a tough family situation though. I think it’s messing with his mental game.”

Nobody knew better than I did how critical the mental game was. “How so?”

“Well, his dad died suddenly a year or so ago. Mom moved them up here to be closer to her family. But I think he worries about leaving her alone. There’s a little sister too.”

Immediately, I felt sympathy for the kid. “That’s hard.”

“Yeah. He’s talking about sticking around here, but his mom really wants him to go away to college. She’s trying to talk him into it.”

“An education is a good thing,” I said. “Since all this happened with my arm, I’ve wondered a few times if I should have gone that route.”

David nodded, and I braced myself for the usual barrage of hindsight advice. But it didn’t come. “Nah, I think you did the right thing for you. But I agree with his mom, and I hope he gets a good enough offer from one of those schools. I think he will, if he can gain a little more control before the season finishes up.” He looked at me. “Want to watch him pitch?”

“Sure.”

“Hey, Chip!” he hollered.

The kid turned around. “Yeah, Coach?”

David waved him over. “Come here. I want to introduce you to someone.”

The kid, tall and trim with long limbs, came jogging over. He wore a cap over his shaggy brown hair, but tipped up the bill a little to meet my eyes.

“Chip, the man standing before you is none other than—”

“Tyler Shaw.” The kid grinned. “I recognize you.”

I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “Nice to meet you,” I said, holding out my hand.

He shook it, looking a little awestruck. “You too.”

“This is your lucky day, Chip. Tyler is only in town for today, but he says he’s got a little time to watch your motion and give you some feedback.”

The kid’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Oh, man.” He adjusted his cap, his expression anxious.

David clapped him on the back. “Don’t be nervous, son. Just listen and try to do what he says.”

“Okay.” Chip’s voice cracked.

“I hear you’ve got great power and speed,” I told him. “But you’re struggling a little with command?”

“Yeah.”

“I had the same issue, and my coach was able to help me by breaking down the mechanics and making sure I understood every step. You have to focus on the process, not the result. Because if you can’t control your body, you can’t control the ball, right?”