Reaching First by Mindy Klasky

let the silence remind her that she was the one who’d poured herself all those drinks. She was the one nursing what had to be a killer hangover today.
    “Maybe…” she trailed off.
    He had to rescue her. “Maybe it was too far, too fast. We both know I’ve got a lot of my sentence left to serve.”
    “Yes!” she said, and he had the distinct feeling she was grabbing on to a lifeline.
    “Maybe when I’m no longer a threat to public safety, things will be different.”
    “You’re not a threat—”
    “No,” he agreed. “I’m not. But you’re not really going to believe that till my one hundred hours are done. And that makes me the world’s biggest idiot.”
    “What do you mean?” she asked.
    “I waited on your front porch until Will got there this morning. I sent the guy away, because I thought you needed the sleep. I should have let him come in. We could have sanded the entire dining room. The living room, too. Maybe even the back rooms. We would have made a hell of a lot of noise, woken you up way before you were ready, but I’d be five hours closer to ending my sentence.”
    Her laugh made his own lips curl into a smile. “I don’t know,” she said. “The way my head was pounding, I might have forgotten to record the hours.”
    “ That ,” he said, “would be something I could never forgive.”
    That time, they laughed together. She caught her breath and said, “Hey.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Thanks for the flowers. Really. They mean a lot to me.”
    “So did your welcoming me home.” He held the phone loosely against his ear. He wasn’t surprised that she stayed silent. “Really, Em,” he said.
    “I don’t know what to say.”
    “Say you have to get back to work. Do whatever you’re doing to get Minerva House ready. And I’ll talk to you after tonight’s game.” He waited, but when she didn’t recite all that, he said, “Okay. That’s your signal to hang up.”
    “ You hang up.”
    “Not this again. I’m not even on the road.”
    “I know,” she said, and he could tell she was smiling. “In fact, I’m going to the game tonight. I’ll be in the owner’s box with Anna.”
    His heart clenched tight in his chest. “Tonight?”
    “See you there.”
    Then, she did hang-up. And he was left feeling more nervous than he had since his first Little League game.
    * * *
    Emily nursed her Coca-Cola, grateful for the crushed ice that mostly filled her cup. It took a supreme effort, but she managed to ignore the smell of hot dogs and popcorn, the ballpark food that everyone around her was enjoying with abandon. Anna slipped into the seat next to her during the break between the top and the bottom of the second inning.
    “You’re not eating?” Anna asked.
    Emily shook her head and stole another sip of soda. “Not today.”
    Anna laughed. “I know that look! Or more precisely, I know that tone of voice. Let me guess. Chocolate martinis?”
    Emily groaned. “Vodka tonics. Extra lime.”
    “Who were you out with? And why didn’t you call me to come along?”
    “I couldn’t call you. You’re practically a married old lady.” But Emily couldn’t help but glance toward the dugout. Tyler was in the on-deck circle, swinging a weighted bat and looking like he was posing for his picture on a baseball card.  
    Anna looked shocked. “Oh. My. God. You and Tyler?”
    “Hush!” Emily practically leaped out of her chair.
    “Don’t tell me to hush!” Anna leaned closer. “You’re not saying I’m wrong.”
    Emily found the hem of her T-shirt fascinating. She picked at the stitches as if she might discover a cure for cancer among the threads. “I don’t know what’s going on. I mean, I thought I knew, before he sent me the lilies—”
    “He sent you flowers ?” That was loud enough for half the people in the box to turn around. Emily sank deeper into her seat, wishing she could disappear. Before she had to answer, though, the umpire settled into place behind the plate, gesturing