When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)(76)

“Ben’s coming. I convinced Betty to bring him. I think she’s getting annoyed with me.” She plays with the dials on the lens.

“No kid in that place has had this many outings. She’s adjusting to it, but I’m glad you pestered her. He’s kind of like my little luck charm.” I grin. “I mean, he’s sort of the reason why we got back together.” She knows it’s true.

“Well, I better go keep our mothers in line.” Kennedy turns and waves over her shoulder with a proud smile. “See you after?” I nod and turn around. The whole team pretends to swoon and mock our conversation.

“Shut up, assholes.”

After the National Anthem, I take my spot on the mound. I visualize each time I release the ball from my hand. The first pitch sets the mood for the game. Mark grins when I throw a nasty fastball that disappears in front of the batter’s eyes. The one on the receiving end smirks because he knows he’ll never touch a pitch like that.

The first inning goes by fast. Neither team manages to get a hit. Things change quick in the second and third. Going into the fourth, we hold the lead at six to five. Mr. Miller stands along the fence, right on the edge of my vision. Somehow, I’ve managed to forget he’s here, but seeing him reminds me he may very well hold my future in his hands.

The next two batters hit triples, running two into home, then a third, and a fourth. My cleats dig into the dirt. My frustration heats my face. I rip off my hat and wipe my brow. Mark walks to the mound to talk to me when the scoreboard reads nine to six.

His mouth covered by his glove, he leans into me. “See all those people up there? Your mom. Kennedy’s parents. Kennedy. Your friends. Ben. The scout. None of them matter. What matters is what happens on this field. Allow them to melt away. You got this, Graham.”

“I’m inside my own head,” I admit.

“What can I do to help?” Mark grins.

“Will you do the Macarena for me?” I laugh.

“Will it help?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“Maybe I’ll go viral like Kennedy did.”

Mark does the dance for me. His ass gyrates across the screen. He wiggles back and forth, giving the audience a show. Halfway between me and home plate, he bows, and the crowd goes wild. When he crouches back into position, he grins and nods, which is his silent way of saying I’m in control.

I collect myself and finish off the game with no hits. The other pitchers give away enough to have the final score be ten to nine.

“You had me scared there, Mr. Black.” Kennedy runs down the bleachers, hanging her head over the side of the dugout.

I turn to her and wink.

“She wasn’t the only one,” Mr. Miller says as he walks in front of the dugout. “No hitters aren’t necessarily what we strive for in the majors. Sometimes, the pitchers who dig themselves out of a hole make the team. I’ll be in contact.” His hand reaches out to shake mine, and I thank him as he leaves.

Kennedy’s mouth falls open. “That was good, right? I mean, he’ll be in contact means he’ll be in contact?” She jumps up and down, pure joy written on her face.

“I’m not going to get my hopes up.” I shrug.

“Seriously? It’s a big deal.”

“She’s right, Black. Listen to your girlfriend.” Coach Boone nods his chin to Kennedy, who’s still in the middle of a victory dance. Seeing her so happy makes me laugh.

“Either way, we still have a season to play. I’m only worried about right now and the things I can control,” I explain. “I better go shower.”

Kennedy rolls her eyes. She hates when I downplay things like this. I get it. It’s a big deal, but it’s not in my hands right now.

I climb the fence and kiss her, tossing my hat over her head. She wears it with pride. “Hold onto that for me?” I ask. She nods, adjusting it on her head.

“Rico, you still cooking us all dinner?” Kennedy yells.

“I sure am,” he answers her.

By the time I shower, talk to Coach, and pull into the driveway, my house is full of laughter. Ben’s in the middle of entertaining our family and friends. Kennedy’s eyes turn to me as I lean against the door frame, hidden away from everyone else. Mrs. Conrad and my mom fall into a fit of laughter at something Betty says. Mr. Conrad hangs back, much like me, with pride filling his eyes.

There isn’t one thing I wouldn’t do for each of them, I think to myself.

Kennedy wraps her arms around my waist and rests her cheek on my chest. “How did we get here?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m sure as hell glad we did.” I kiss her head.

This is my family. This is our family.





The beautiful day makes the decision to walk to work well worth it. I love the way the city smells this time of year. Fresh blooms, hot pretzels, and coffee are the exact way I describe New York in the spring for my mother. She always laughs and I always shake my head on the other end of the phone because those three things sum up my New York.

History proves New York City is cut throat. Only the strong survive, or something like that, so they say. The idea a city is capable of destroying someone appeals to me, but only because it means the strength I’ve dug deep to find within myself has paid off. As the ground shakes from the trains down below, I walk through the mean streets of tall skyscrapers with my head held high. Nothing can stop me from feeling empowered and in control.