Milly: LOL.
Carson: Jason has a lucky ribbon he ties in his hair before he puts his catcher’s helmet on.
Milly: Stop it. Do you have any lucky charms I should know about?
Carson: Right now? I’d say texting you before each game.
Carson: You still awake?
Milly: Just got into bed. What’s up?
Carson: Never mind.
Milly: Okay, do you really think that’s going to work? Tell me.
Carson: I’m outside your dorm.
Milly: Really?
Carson: Yeah, come down really quick.
Chapter Forty-Eight
CARSON
Its chilly, late, and I’m desperate for my pillow right now, but I couldn’t leave campus, not without seeing her.
It’s strange. I thought about her all weekend, but not just the mechanics she taught me, or the advice she’s given me. It was in a different way. I thought about her sweet, but stern voice. I thought about the way her right dimple seems to sink deeper than her left. I thought about the way she tosses her hair through the back of her hat, and I thought about her laugh and how it has a slight rasp to it.
I didn’t think about her as a coach, but as a girl I can’t seem to get my mind off, which I thought would be a bad thing, given my need to focus on the game and the specifics of how I bat, but it didn’t take away from my mental game. In some respects, because the game wasn’t all I focused on, I wonder if thoughts of Milly enhanced it. Her presence in my thoughts gave me . . . calm. A place away from the pressure somehow. Is this Knox and Holt meant when it came to their girls being an escape? A good escape?
Not saying that Milly is by any means my girl, but oddly, she’s always on my mind.
The dorm door swings open and Milly appears wearing a baggy pair of sweats and once again, a tank top, but this time, there’s no sports bra in sight . . . or any bra for that matter.
Hell, her nipples are hard. This is so not what I needed to see, not when I’m having these conflicting and confusing feelings.
I swallow hard and keep my eyes adjusted to focus on her face. I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate me staring at her breasts at eleven at night.
She rubs her face with her palm and says, “What’s going on? Is everything okay? Is your glove okay?”
Shit, this was a poorly thought-out idea. I don’t really know why I’m here, other than I wanted to see her, talk to her, give her something small to show her how much I appreciate her.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I say, feeling stupid now that I’m standing here. I pull out a packet of caramel M&M’s from my pocket then realize this is something I could have done at another time, but for the life of me, I couldn’t wait. “Here.”
She reaches out and takes the package from me, confusion written all over her brow. “Thank you.” She clutches the package, still confused. Hell, I am too. “This is why you came here, to give me M&M’s?”
Yup, looking like a real fucking douche right about now. Is this me trying to flirt with a girl? If so, I am thoroughly embarrassed with my game, or lack thereof.
“Uh . . .” I pull on the back of my neck. “Yeah, and to say thank you.”
“You’ve said thank you many times.”
“Yeah, I know, but I really want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done. I had a great weekend out on the field and you’re to thank for that.”
She toes the ground, clearly uncomfortable when receiving compliments. “You put in the work, I just assisted.”
“Either way, I’m grateful.”
She shifts and then holds up the package of M&M’s. “Want to share them?”
“Right now?”
She nods shyly and then goes to a bench in front of the dorm and takes a seat. Spend a little more time with Milly outside of the ballpark? Yeah, I’ll take the opportunity, because something tells me she doesn’t do this very often.
I take a seat next to her, but straddle the bench so I’m facing her. She pulls up her right foot and hugs her leg to her chest right before opening the package of M&M’s and setting it between us.
I pop a candy in my mouth and ask, “How did your team do this weekend?”
“Great. They won.” She picks up a piece of candy as well and I watch as she truly appreciates the flavor combination of the hard candy shell and chocolate and caramel inside.
“That’s awesome. Good job, Coach.”
She smiles and then continues. “There’s this kid on the team, his name is Dennis. He’s smaller than all the other boys, pretty clumsy, always loses his helmet, is the kid whose clothes are entirely too big, and he gets distracted by butterflies, but oh my God, he loves the sport so much. He always shows up to practice with the biggest smile on his face and a willingness to work hard. He’s the kid you tell to run faster and instead of moving his legs quicker, his arms pump harder.”
I laugh out loud, picturing the little guy in my head. “He sounds like my kind of player.”
“He’s adorable, but he’s struggled on the field with pretty much every aspect of the game. It hurts my heart, watching him try to keep up, but he gives it his all. I’ve given him some extra attention with the bat and it finally paid off this weekend.”
“Did he get his first hit?” I ask, feeling excited for Dennis, even though I don’t know him.
Milly nods and leans her head to the side so it’s resting against her knee, her expression wistful as she stares back at me.
Fuck, she really is beautiful. “He did. It was a soft blooper over the first baseman’s head. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such pure joy on a little boy’s face. When he got back to the dugout, he gave me the biggest hug. I might have teared up.”
“Damn, Milly. That’s getting me emotional. Look at you helping ballplayers all over the place.”
“I know your success is vital, especially right now being in the middle of the season and the draft right around the corner, but deep down I always knew you’d find your swing again. You just needed slight reprograming. But Dennis”—she shakes her head—“I wasn’t sure if the guy was ever going to get a hit despite how hard he tried. I mean, when he finally made contact with the ball, his face was so shocked he almost forgot to run to first base. It was probably one of my best coaching moments ever.”
“That’s amazing, Milly. If I were you, I’d be really proud. You made an impact on Dennis. And maybe he won’t be playing in the big leagues one day, but there’s one thing you taught him. If you work hard, you will make things happen.”
“It’s what my dad always taught me.” She chews on another M&M. “I remember when I was twelve and my room was full of baseball tutorial books and scoresheets. My dad asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. I told him I wanted to coach. He told me it would be hard, to break the mold, that I would run across people who would believe a woman had no business being in men’s sports, but to continue to persist and follow my dream. I forget about that sometimes, the persistence it takes to accomplish what I want, but Dennis reminded me of that this weekend. I didn’t just help him; he helped me too.”