“Why not? You could even split your time between here and California. Spend winter out there, spring and summer here.”

“I don’t know, David. Kinda seems like something an old man would do—letting the cold weather dictate his life. I’m not ready to be an old man yet.”

He nodded, folded his arms over his chest. “You think you’ll play again?”

I shook my head. “Nah. If it hasn’t come back yet, it’s not going to.”

“So what’s the plan? What are you gonna do for the next fifty years?”

Exhaling, I adjusted my cap and stared out at the field, thinking, Right there is where I stood and struck out nineteen batters in a row. That fence over there in left field is the one my final home run sailed over. Those bleachers were where my sister and my dad and April sat and cheered me on while I stood on the mound staring down the next victim of my fastball.

I did have a lot of good memories here.

But coming back after such a public failure to take a position as a high school assistant coach? It was the opposite of the triumphant return I’d envisioned myself making one day, where I might throw the opening pitch of the season’s first game, sign autographs and baseballs in the stands, shake hands with fans who’d watched my whole career start to finish—the right finish. Coming back after what actually happened would just be embarrassing, wouldn’t it? Instead of returning a hero, I’d return a disgrace.

“Look, just think about it, okay?” David clapped me on the shoulder. “You could do some real good here. I know the majority of these kids won’t even go on to play college ball, but a good coach will give them things they take with them no matter where they end up in life—things they’ll remember forever. And you’ve got something to give, Shaw.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

We started walking toward the parking lot. “I didn’t get a chance to do it today, but if I have the chance, I’ll encourage Chip to take the Clemson scholarship. I think that’s the best place for him,” I said.

David nodded. “I like that for him too.”

We said goodnight, and I drove over to Sadie’s house to bring in the mail and put out her trash and recycling. While I was there, I noticed a box sitting on the floor in the dining room. It was the one from the attic that Sadie had rescued when she moved out of our old house. I’d gone up and gotten it the day I’d painted the bedroom and then forgotten to take it with me.

As expected, it appeared to contain mostly junk I didn’t need or want—championship trophies, some ribbons and medals, old photos, stacks of papers. I hadn’t gone through it yet, but I was ninety-nine percent sure it all belonged in the trash. Shaking my head, I picked up a framed eight by ten photo of me in uniform my first high school season. I’d played varsity, while all my freshmen friends had been stuck on the ninth-grade team. On my face was the cocky smile I’d already perfected. In my hands, a bat and glove. At my side was six-year-old Sadie in pigtails, looking up at me instead of the camera. We were standing in front of the crab apple tree at our old house. I wondered if that tree was still there.

Not wanting to hurt my sister’s feelings, I took the box and tossed it in the back of my SUV, which Rental Car Steve had said I could rent for the week . . . not that I’d booked a new return ticket to San Diego yet. I really needed to get on that—it was already Wednesday. I’d been here a full week at this point. Wasn’t it time to get back to my real life?

I thought about it as I drove back to the hotel—the long way, past our old house so I could see if that apple tree was still there . . . it was. Parked across the street, I stared at that damn tree and thought about the offer David Dean had made me this afternoon. I thought about the second act of my life, for which I’d made no Plan B.

I thought about returning to my big house with its security gate in San Diego and my little cabin in the mountains. Both offered the privacy and solitude I’d craved over the last year, but was that really what I wanted for the rest of my life?

On the way back to the hotel, I thought about buying a place on the water here, where Sadie and Josh could bring my nieces and nephews to go swimming or fishing or boating. I thought about having an influence over the next generation of players, of passing on the wisdom that had been given to me, not because they were going to make millions of dollars or become famous pro athletes, but for the love of the game. And I thought about the woman who, within the space of one week, seemed to know and understand and accept me better than anyone ever had.

All of it was making me wonder what if.

What if I stayed more than a little longer? What if my worth didn’t have to be measured in balls and strikes? What if the way my life had veered off course wasn’t a punishment, but an opportunity?

What if this place started to feel like home to me?

Late that night I was lying in April’s bed, my arms wrapped around her soft, warm body, when I realized it already had.

“Hey,” I whispered. “Are you still awake?”

“Yes.” Her voice was sleepy.

“I was thinking.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to do that.”

I laughed gently, nudging her hip. “Smartass.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“About . . . staying. Maybe for good.”

She rolled onto her back and looked up at me. “Really?”

“Yeah. David Dean offered me a permanent position on the coaching staff at the high school. I was thinking about maybe getting a place here.”

“Like a house?”

“Yeah.” I grinned at her in the dark. “Somewhere I can leave the cap off the toothpaste and not worry about it.”

“I only scolded you about that once this week.”

“Well, I feel like I’ve imposed on you long enough, with all my cover hogging and my dirty laundry. And I don’t really want to live in a hotel—too many people around all the time. Earlier today I was picturing a big house on the water, maybe a boat. A place where we can hang out on the deck and drink good bourbon and I’ll yell at kids to get off my beach.”

Laughing, she shook her head. “Wow. That sounds amazing. But . . . that’s a big decision. A big change.”

“I know.” I brushed the hair back from her face. “But I was thinking today about why I haven’t booked a ticket back to San Diego yet. And I realized it’s because I just don’t want to go. Something about being here feels right to me, and I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

She looped her arms around my neck. “It makes me really happy to hear that.”

“I’m happy too.” I rolled on top of her. “Can you tell?”

“Yes. And I love when you’re happy. In fact, making you happy is my new favorite sport.”

“Better not skip practice then.” I lowered my mouth to hers, my body igniting, my heart racing, my mind full of possibilities for the future.

Sixteen

April

Thursday morning, I burst into Chloe’s office without knocking. “He’s staying!”