“Got it.”
I brought the bat behind me once again, my attention on the machine instead of Lachlan. But, despite preparing myself the best I could, I still couldn’t even manage to graze my bat against the ball.
“Don’t be timid,” Lachlan encouraged, ducking under the netting and jogging toward me. “You have a really good stance, but you second-guess yourself. Don’t do that. Once you decide to go after something, you have to go all-in.”
“All-in?”
“Here. Let me show you what I mean.” He stood behind me, hands covering mine on the grip of the bat. Then he led me through the motions, my body a puppet as he swung.
I tried to focus on what he was showing me, but all I could think about was how amazing his body felt against mine. How confident and assured his motions were. No hesitation. No uncertainty.
“There,” he said after the fifth or sixth repetition of the swing. “You’re getting the hang of it. Now, try it on your own. Follow through and snap your wrists at the end.”
“We really don’t have to do this, Lachlan. I can just watch you hit. I’m sure you’re infinitely better than I am.”
“You showed me how to bake a cake. It’s my turn to teach you something. Share part of myself with you.” He narrowed his gaze, almost pleading to let him do this.
I couldn’t say no to him when he looked at me like that.
Hell, I doubted I could say no to him even when he didn’t, but knowing he was going through all this just to share a piece of himself with me, a piece he rarely gave to anyone, touched me on a deeper level.
So, instead of trying to get out of this, I returned to my batting stance, all my concentration fixated on that pitching machine and hitting the ball.
I flexed my hands, bouncing slightly as I waited, the seconds seeming to stretch. When I heard the whoosh of the ball leaving the machine, I held my breath, dropped my shoulder, and swung. But instead of worrying about whether I’d hit it or not, I did what Lachlan instructed.
As I snapped my wrists, the most miraculous thing happened. My bat actually connected with the ball, a crack sounding from the metal.
Then the sky.
I straightened, peering into the distance just as lightning streaked across the sky, another boom echoing.
“Looks like that’s our cue to leave,” Lachlan remarked, powering down the pitching machine and heading toward me.
“Probably a good idea.” I handed him the bat, then removed the helmet. “Wouldn’t want any of those baseballs turning into a pile of string like in The Natural.”
He gave me an amused look. “You’ve seen The Natural?”
“It was actually one of my favorite movies growing up. Something about it always resonated with me. About an underdog winning the game.”
“And someone who was a little older getting a second chance.” Lachlan reminded me of one of the movie’s central plots. How the main character was considered past his prime when he was brought up to play in the majors but didn’t let his age stop him. How he found his happiness.
He pushed a few tendrils of hair behind my ear, cupping my cheek. “It’s never too late for a second chance, Julia.”
I peered into his eyes, unsure how to interpret his words. Was he simply saying that because I’d just celebrated a milestone birthday, one he was fully aware I struggled with?
Or because he wanted me to take a chance on him?
CouldI take a chance on him? On me? On us?
Fat droplets of rain fell on my head as the sky opened up, quickly drenching everything.
But that didn’t seem to bother Lachlan. In fact, he craned his head back, drawing in a deep breath. “God, I love the smell of a Hawaiian thunderstorm.”
I watched him, a look of serenity and peace washing over him as he basked in the rain hitting his face. He seemed so carefree, the weight burdening him lately nowhere to be found. Like he’d finally let go of the ghosts keeping him tethered to the past.
If he could let go of his past so easily, why couldn’t I?
When another bolt of lightning lit up the sky, he snapped his head forward. “But as much as I love the smell, being outside while it’s lightning probably isn’t the safest thing. Come on.”