Page 67 of Accidentally Sliding Into A Second Chance

“Thank you,” I respond, and turn my attention back to David’s text.

Cat:

See you in a little bit.

And just like that, I’m worried about more than one bed.

Chapter Twenty-Six

David

It’sthebottomofthe ninth, and we’re up by three runs. But the Brewers came out to play and are having their best inning of the game.

Their lineup started with the lead batter, who hit a line drive straight up the center of the field, making his way to first.

The second at bat hit a ball out to right field, the kind of hit that floats through the air, right over the infielder’s head and bounces when it hits the grass, making the outfielder field it. This landed him on first and advanced the other player all the way to third.

Now we have their cleanup hitter. If he gets the right hit, that hit could land all three of them crossing home plate, tying the game.

With one out shy of the game being over, Coach Abbott called a timeout and replaced pitcher Nick Knight with the Smokies' closer, Trey Spencer.

While Trey is taking a few warm-up pitches, I let my gaze find Cat.

She’s beaming at the person sitting beside her, her feet resting on the chair in front of her, laughing at something the person just said. The excited murmuring of the crowd ripples through me, matching my humming pulse.

Her face is radiant and relaxed. Warmth spreads through my chest, and the corners of my lips tug up. As if feeling my gaze, she turns and looks in my direction. When her eyes meet mine, my grin creeps across my face.

Cat’s eyes soften and her smile brightens, making my pulse spike. Anticipation about spending time with her after the game zips through me. It’s the first time the two of us will be alone since getting married.

“Happy to see you getting a chance for some alone time with the wife,” O’Hara says from behind me, pulling my attention from Cat to him. I glance over my shoulder to find a smirk on his face. “I was getting a bit worried about your play. But it looks like whatever you changed has it fixed.”

He turns toward the stands and waves at his wife, before tapping me on the shoulder with his glove and running back to left field as Logan brings the last pitch back to Spencer. A signal that the game is about to start up again.

Taking one last glance in Cat’s direction, I find her attention on the activity happening on the field. Logan walks back to home plate, but stops to make sure everyone is ready before lowering into position.

The Brewers’ batter swings a few times before placing one foot in the batter's box and pointing toward the outfield.

The home team fans go crazy, and a smirk pulls up.

Baseball players, most athletes, have enormous egos, but the odds of this guy hitting a home run with the right pitch are high. With a runner on first and third, he could be the one who changes the trajectory of this game.

But if Spencer strikes him out, it’s game over.

We get to leave with a ‘W’, and I get to spend time with my wife. Alone. With one bed.

The batter steps fully into the batter's box, and I crouch into position, focusing on what’s happening on the field. Trey waits for the call but shakes Logan off, not once but twice, before throwing a pitch.

“Strike One,” the plate umpire calls as the batter watches the pitch. The guys from the dugout and on the field are cheering Spencer on.

Logan calls the pitch again, and Spencer nods, then throws a fastball.

When the batter swings, there is a collective intake of breath from the stands, followed by a sigh of disappointment as the umpire yells. “Strike two.” The scoreboard flashes the 3-2 count.

“Last one, Spence,” I yell, hitting my glove with my fist. “You got this!”

Claps can be heard from around the stadium as each fan cheers on their player.

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