Anything for You (Blue Heron #5)(58)

With that, he left, closing the door quietly behind him, leaving Jessica alone in the dark and orderly kitchen.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“COME ON, CONNOR! Work that arm! What are you, a six-year-old girl?”

“Easy, Yogi. I’m just warming up.” Connor stared down from the pitching mound at his little sister, who was giving him the sign for a fastball. Savannah was a catcher—a good one, and she didn’t like him throwing what she called “kitten pitches.”

However, his fastball was somewhere around 80 miles per hour, and he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Come on, wuss!” she taunted.

“You’ve been hanging around Colleen too much,” he answered, and let the pitch fly. She caught it without visible movement, her glove just closing around the ball.

“Is that the best you can do? Because my mother can throw that hard.” She threw the ball back to him. Hard.

“Okay, smart-ass,” he said. “Don’t go crying if you can’t handle the heat.”

He let loose. Another perfect catch.

She was good, all right.

She gave him a three and pointed to her left thigh. Curveball. Not a problem.

They threw for about a half hour, swapping mild insults, Con occasionally giving her a little advice, Savannah occasionally returning the favor. When they were done, Savannah took off her catcher’s gear and they started running, part of her fitness regime. Her goal was to play on the Little League team with the boys, rather than on the girls’ softball team, and speed wasn’t her thing. Since Connor had always been a pretty decent athlete, he’d appointed himself her coach. Better that than having their father give it a try, and dropping dead of a heart attack in front of her.

“So how are things at home?” he asked, jogging backward to see her face.

“Fine, I guess. Mom’s been sick.”

“Is she okay?”

“I guess so.”

Connor turned back around and didn’t ask any more. If there was something to be worried about, Colleen would ferret out the news and tell him. The most he’d said to Gail these past ten years were essentially, “Hi, how are you?” and “I’ll bring her back by nine.”

But Savannah was a good kid. His father and Gail were doing something right. Certainly, Pete was better at the second round of family life than the first, which saved Connor the trouble of beating him up.

“Connor, do you have a girlfriend?” his sister asked as they rounded the last corner of the block.

He glanced down at her strawberry-blond head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, God. I thought you were the nice sister.”

She giggled at that, her face flushed but not too red. “Is there someone you like?”

“No. I don’t like anyone. Especially little sisters who interrogate me.” Another giggle. “Is there someone you like?”

She stopped running as they came back onto the field. “Yes.”

Well, shit. “You’re ten. I forbid you to like anyone.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” she said. “It’s an older man.”

Connor was suddenly drenched in a cold sweat that had nothing to do with running. And I will kill that older man. “Who, honey?”

“He’s in seventh grade. Sawyer Bickman.”

So that made him fourteen to Savvie’s ten. Predator material. Clearly, this Sawyer person needed to have a six-foot-two adult scare the living shit out of him.

“He told me I made a fantastic play last week,” Savannah said, looking down. Connor didn’t miss her smile. “The big kids came to our game.”

“Is that it?”

“I thought it was pretty great, Connor.” She cut him a mildly hurt look.

“I mean, that was all he said? Did he...do anything?”

“Ew, Connor. Yes, that was all he said.”

“And have you talked since?”

“No.” She flopped down on the grass and stared at the sky, which was a perfect, clear blue today. “He probably has a girlfriend.”

“Honey, you’re—”

“Don’t tell me I’m only ten years old. I know how old I am. And my mom has already told me, in case I forgot.”

Connor lay down next to her.

He’d been twelve the first time he’d fallen for Jess. The only time, really, since it never went away. “So you like him.”

“I think it’s more than that.”

Savannah had an old soul that didn’t match her slight (and adorable) lisp. “Young love can really pack a punch,” he said.

“You’re telling me.” She was quiet for a minute. “He’s really nice to people. Not just me, but everyone.”

Connor nodded. “That’s a good sign.”

She turned to face him, her little round face earnest. “Should I do anything? Write him a note or something?”

“Maybe you should ask Colleen. She’s pretty good at this stuff.”

“But you’re a boy. What would you think if you got a note from a girl who liked you?”

Crap. “Uh...well, what would this note say?”

She sat up straight. “‘Dear Sawyer, when you told me I did a good job tagging out Aidan Priestley, it was the greatest moment of my life. My chest was burning and I was so, so happy, it felt like birds were flying inside me. I think about you all the time. I know I am only ten, but if you wait for me, I will love you forever. Respectfully, Savannah Joy O’Rourke.’”