Page 59 of Heavy Hitter
“Yeah, well.” Jimmy shrugs into her pillows. He likes how her sheets smell, like fresh air and lavender and whatever expensive shampoo she uses. Like Lacey herself. “Luck’s for losers.”
Lacey huffs out a noisy breath, but she’s laughing, and that’s how he knows he’s got her. “Jimmy—”
“Look,” he says, pulling her back down so she’s lying sprawled across him, her sharp chin digging into his chest. He doesn’t want to stop touching her. He never wants to stop touching her ever again. “I will be the first to admit that our last public outing left something to be desired. And if I’m not a good enough baseball player to win the Series with you there, then so be it. But I don’t actually think that’s true, do you?”
Lacey considers that for a moment. “No,” she says. “I think you’re exactly that good.”
Jimmy smiles. “Yeah,” he says, and ducks his head to kiss her. “I think I am, too.”
***
THE NEXT NIGHT, JIMMY STANDS IN THE LOCKER ROOM AT Camden, breathing in the familiar smell of bleach and sweat and listening to the sound of forty-five thousand baseball fans humming in the seats. His heart is a fist inside his chest. “You ready?” he asks, looking around at his guys. “Because this is it.”
“Born ready,” Tuck promises. “Let’s do this, Cap.”
Jimmy nods. “Let’s do this,” he echoes. He takes a deep breath and walks up the ramp through the tunnel, toward the field where the lights are shining brilliantly overhead. Jimmy glances up at the stands as he goes, at the place where he knows his future is waiting. Then he turns and crouches behind the plate.
