Almost Home

Chapter Twenty

Just as I feared, but expected, the weekend flies past and Easton returns home.

I didn't stop thanking Carson for nearly a week afterwards.

Now, though my summer softball games had slowly drawn to a close in the past two weeks, everything else seems to be slowly picking back up.

In less than two weeks, Lydia, Carson, and I will be starting our senior year - the ultimate year - and after that, heading off to our respective colleges.

Though the thought pains me, it also makes me, more than ever, want to make this last year of high school the best yet.

The only thing that could make it better would be-

As if summoned purely from my thought, my phone begins to ring and Easton's smile fills my screen.

"Hey."

I balance my own phone on top of my knees, twirling one escaped strand of hair around my finger as I ask, "What have you been up to since the last time we talked?"

Easton quirks an eyebrow, grinning, "You mean since yesterday?"

We try to talk everyday and though it got difficult for a couple days, we're now back to a steady schedule of Face-Timing every evening.

"Yes, exactly."

The phone rising and falling signals me to the fact that he shrugged, "Just physical therapy. Josh said I might be able to start lightly throwing a baseball soon."

The way he says, 'lightly' makes me giggle, but I manage, "Easton, that's great!"

"Soon as in a month or so," he clarifies, "Not next week."

"That's still great news. I wasn't sure how long it would be."

"I've been trying to throw with my left arm," he admits, grimacing, "It's not going well."

I laugh, "You're telling me that you can bat with both hands, but not throw?"

He cuts me an incredulous look, "It's so much harder than it looks. I nearly hurt myself just trying to throw with my left arm."

"Hey, I get it," I hold up a hand in mock surrender, "I always wanted to be a switch hitter, but I could never quite master batting with my left hand. Carson came closer than I ever did."

Easton looks surprised, "Carson is a switch hitter?"

"Oh, no," I giggle, "I said he came closer than I ever did, not that he actually succeeded."

His eyes crinkle as he laughs, "I see."

After a beat of silence, he adds, "I'll teach you."

"I'm not even sure an all-star, such as yourself, could successfully get me hitting with my left arm. It's useless."

He grins, "I thought the same thing about my own and now look at me. I can do everything just as well with my left arm as I can with my right."

"Except throw."

At that, he tips his head back and laughs, the sound echoing through my headphones, bringing a smile to my own face.

"Yes, except that."

We slip into another beat of silence, this one unintentional, and just as I'm beginning to wonder what I could possibly say to keep the conversation flowing, he asks, "When does school start for you?"

"Two Thursday's from tomorrow," I grimace, "Don't remind me."

"What? You're not excited?"

"For my senior year, I guess I am," I shrug, "But not to start school again. School stresses me out."