Stealing Home(66)

Mackey was up next and hit a line drive deep into right field, getting him safely to first and Archer to third. There were two on base as Hernandez moved up to the plate.

By now, I was standing with the rest of the team, leaning out over the dugout, ready to split open from the tension. From third base, Archer glanced into the dugout, his gaze stopping on mine. From the slant in his smile alone, I knew what he had in mind.

I thought back to that conversation we’d had months ago, when I’d told him not to do it, that it was too risky. This time, I gave him my nod of approval. His smile widened as he leaned over to whisper something to the third base coach. After a little back and forth, I could see that Archer had gotten his way. He usually did in my experience. A team didn’t typically advise a runner to steal home with runners on base, but with their two strikes on the board and being tied at the bottom of the ninth, it became more appealing. Hernandez was one hell of a shortstop, but not the hitter you wanted up in this kind of a situation.

The moment the pitcher wound up, I held my breath and didn’t let go. Archer started pulling away from third, every muscle in his body primed for a burst of adrenaline. When the pitcher noticed Archer creeping off third, Archer feinted back to third, just enough to entice the pitcher into trying for the out. As soon as the pitcher threw the ball to the third baseman, Archer hauled ass to home.

The entire stadium lunged onto their feet, their shouts pumping onto the field. Hernandez backed away from the plate as the third baseman fired the ball at the catcher. Luke lunged back for third, the catcher whipping the ball back to his teammate. On it went for what felt like an eternity, Luke getting closer to home, while the Miners’ catcher and third baseman got closer to him.

There was a reason players didn’t steal home anymore. It was next to impossible to do. That was the reason Luke wanted to do it so badly. He didn’t believe in impossible. He didn’t let the odds scare him. He didn’t let the fear of failing keep him from trying.

He lived life the same way he played baseball.

When the ball smacked into the third baseman’s mitt again, Archer went for it. His legs a blur of movement, he powered for home plate, his elbows stabbing into the air behind him. No one was bouncing and shouting in the dugout anymore —everyone was silent.

Archer flew into the air as the ball careened back to the catcher looming over the plate. It was going to be close. The ump was in position, not daring to blink as both the ball and Archer’s body sped to home plate.

He exploded down on home, dust erupting all around him as his momentum sent him barreling into the catcher, who’d just caught the ball and was swinging his glove onto Archer’s back.

I was still holding that same breath while everyone waited for the call that seemed to take forever to be shouted.

The moment the ump waved his arms out at his sides, I started screaming. So loudly I didn’t even hear him yell safe.

He’d done it—he’d stolen home.

Luke Archer had done more than that though. He’d stolen my heart too.

As the fans went wild, the Shock charged the field. Typically the support staff didn’t rush a field with the team, but there was nothing typical about what had just happened. Weaving into the mix, Reynolds cleared a path for me up the stairs so I didn’t get trampled. Once we hit the field, Reynolds grabbed me. I somehow ended up on his shoulders as he charged toward the swarm of bodies at home plate.

Luke had just been tossed up onto a couple of his teammates’ shoulders and was throwing his hands toward the stadium, only fueling the fans’ excitement. Somewhere in the midst of it all, he’d lost his batting helmet, so his damp hair was bouncing as the guys holding him leapt beneath him.

Reynolds and I were charging down the third base line when Luke’s head turned. A dozen emotions played on his face, a dozen more lighting up his eyes, but there was only one I felt when he looked at me like he was now—like I was the only person in this sold-out stadium. Like I was the only person in the whole world.

The stadium was roaring with noise, a flurry of scenes vying for attention, but I didn’t miss what he shouted as he lifted his arm and pointed in my direction. For you.

Reynolds’s impressive size made cutting through the crowd a reality I never could have managed on my own. He somehow managed to barrel right through the mess of players until Luke and I were within arm’s reach.

Luke was grinning at me like he’d just challenged the world to a duel and come out the victor. Holding out his hand for mine, when I placed it in his, he stabbed our combined hands into the air. The noise shaking the stadium grew louder as what felt like millions of lights blinking at us from the stands flashed all around us. It was a beautiful sight—the reaction of thousands of fans to Luke Archer stealing home plate to win the biggest game of any player’s life.

I’d never forget it.

But as I glanced back over at Luke, who was still staring at me, I knew the sight in front of me now was the most beautiful one I’d ever seen. The one I’d always remember. The way the man I loved was looking at me when everyone else was looking at him.

I didn’t just see a future when I looked at Luke—I saw the explanations of my past. The answers to the hurt. It had brought me to this very moment, molding me into the person I was today—the person Luke Archer loved.

His love was worth the price I’d paid in my past. His love was worth any price.