“Hol-lis! Hol-lis! Hol-lis!”
We’re all doing it now, clapping loudly and turning her cheeks cherry red. Her dad walks toward her with the trophy in hand and urges her to her feet. She’s bashful about it, but I know at her core, she’s also eating up the moment. Inside that body lives a tiger.
As soon as she takes the trophy from her dad, our howling becomes deafening. We’re on our feet in a second, and Miguel, our shortstop, and I raise Hollis up on our shoulders. I watch his hands because as proud as I am of her, I’m also a jealous boyfriend. I’ll take over her full weight and run her ass out into the parking lot if he makes a move.
Miguel keeps his hands in check, though, and Hollis wears a smile that dents her cheeks with dimples so deep I think they may never get erased. Her brother begs for the trophy at her father’s side, so we finally let her down and Coach Taylor takes over possession, keeping guard on the prize while everyone alternates taking pictures with it.
The only prize I care about is still in my arms.
“You know the Vandy guy came, right?” She puckers her lips into a controlled smile while I nod, swaying her in my arms while we stand apart from the crowd.
“Uh huh.” I’d actually managed to keep that thought under control for that last batter, and it’s a good thing I did. If I let that thought enter my domain, I probably would have sailed my first pitch into the dugout.
“I have a good feeling,” she says, leaning into me until our foreheads touch.
I let my hands fall to her hips and close my eyes to protect this moment and keep this small space between only us.
“I’ve had a good feeling since midnight on January first,” I say.
“Oh, is that right?” she asks.
“Mmm. It is.”
“Still, though. Vandy.” She lets my dream linger in the air as a wish.
“I have a good feeling, too,” I finally admit. “My gut instinct has very little to do with tonight’s game, though.”
She pulls back enough to show me her quirked brow.
I tuck her hair behind her ear, knowing she’ll tie it in a knot the first chance she gets.
“There can be no Hollis Taylor of Tennessee without a Cannon Jennings in the same area code.”
My stupid joke earns a beautiful smile, and we seal it with a kiss before joining our family and teammates and friends for what promises to be a long night of celebration. That wish will have to linger a little while longer, but I’m no longer worried about it coming true.
What Hollis says goes, and if it doesn’t, she’ll bend it to her will.
She’s a game-changer.
Series Epilogue
Lucas Fuller
Whoever thinks being smart must equate to being good at giving speeches clearly never heard my attempts.
Writing my graduation speech was easy. I knocked that sucker out in forty minutes. It’s just one big trope when you think about it. The future is waiting. It’s yours to take. We all will change, yet stay the same . . . blah . . . blah . . . blah. Saying it in front of six hundred people, however, is a whole different ball game.
And Tory will not quit bagging on me about it.
“Don’t forget to take your change, I mean make change, I mean accept change, or I’m changing. I change, you change, we all change! Weee!” He’s really latched on to the theme, which I blundered and completely blew, forgetting two lines then going back to them later, awkwardly.
I punch his arm hard enough to make him spill a little beer in his lap.
“Hey!”
“You done now?” I glare at him and he brings his mug close to his chest, hugging it with both hands.
“Ch-ch-ch-changes.” He gets out one more, but thankfully Abby made it back in time for graduation and is there to smack him on the back of the neck for me.
“Thank you,” I say to her, crossing behind her and kissing the top of her head.
It’s after hours at Eight Lanes. Well, technically, it’s closed. But June still has a key, and her former boss pretty much thinks she walks on water, so we moved the party here. We all chipped in forty bucks to pay for the beer we plan to drink tonight because we don’t want to steal. But we do aim to get lit. Hayden and Lola volunteered to play sober, so we’ll make it home in decent shape.
I can’t believe after tonight, half our crew will be gone. It still doesn’t feel real, even though in less than twelve hours, it’s happening.
Cannon and Hollis are the first to go, and I think the only reason they’re partying it up tonight is because they know they have a thirty-one-hour bus ride to look forward to when they wake up. I love football, but man, there’s no sport on the planet I find important enough to ride on a bus for that long. They’re going to Cali for a summer baseball league before making that same awful trip back in August so Cannon can report to fall camp for Vanderbilt. It’s too bad that Central Metropolitan doesn’t get to play Vandy just for one exhibition. I’d love to see those two go head-to-head on the field. June and I plan to go watch a few of their games in Cali, a last-hurrah trip before we pack up and move in together in Boston.
I’m surprised her mom went for it, but when June got accepted at the last minute to Boston College, one of the best ways to cut costs was for the both of us to split a bedroom in a two-bedroom apartment. Our
