Shiloh and Carrie sat side by side, their heads bent close as they talked. Every so often, one of them would laugh, and Rachel would feel her heart swell at the sound. Shiloh looked happier than Rachel had ever seen her… relaxed, content, no longer carrying the weight of fear that had hunched her shoulders for so long.
And then there was George. The older man sat in a lawn chair positioned in the shade of the big oak tree, a glass of iced tea sweating in his weathered hand. He was probably in his seventies, with kind eyes and a gentle smile that reminded Rachel of her grandfather.
Jack had adopted George as his honorary grandfather when he and his mom shared a duplex with the older man. When their lives had been threatened by fire, Colt had moved them all into his house. George lived in the apartment over the attached garage, happy as could be with his newfound family.
“Come on.” Jack stood and offered his hand. “I want to show you something.”
Rachel let him pull her to her feet, curious. He led her across the yard to where a net was stretched across a rectangular frame near the fence.
“I've been meaning to teach you this,” Jack said, grabbing a baseball from a bucket nearby. He tossed it lightly in his hand, grinning. “Every girl who dates a baseball player needs to know how to throw a decent pitch.”
Rachel laughed. “Jack, I can barely catch a ball without flinching, and only when I have a really big mitt. What makes you think I can throw one?”
“Because I'm an excellent teacher.” He positioned himself behind her, his chest against her back, and guided her arm through the motion. “See? It's all in the follow-through. You want to step forward with your opposite foot, bring your arm back, and then release right here.”
His breath was warm against her ear, and Rachel found herself more focused on his proximity than on the mechanics of throwing. But she nodded, trying to concentrate.
“Okay. I think I have it.”
Jack stepped back, giving her space. “Show me what you've got, Ayers.”
Rachel wound up the way he'd shown her, stepped forward, and released the ball. It sailed wildly to the left, missing the net by at least six feet and bouncing off the fence with a hollow thunk.
Jack pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh.
“Don't,” Rachel warned, but she was already smiling. “Don't you dare laugh.”
“I'm not laughing,” Jack said, his shoulders shaking. “That was... that was a good first try.”
“You're a terrible liar.” Rachel grabbed another ball and tried again. This time, it went high, arcing completely over the net and landing somewhere in the bushes behind it.
Now Jack did laugh, a full belly laugh that made Rachel want to tackle him. “Okay, smarty-pants… you do it!”
He stepped forward and let the ball fly straight into the center of the net. Grinning, she looked over her shoulder. “Looks like you have the skill, just not the ability to teach.”
“Oh, so that's how it's going to be?” he said, laughing.
Jack retrieved the balls and came back to her side. “Okay, okay. Let me show you again. The problem is you're releasing too early. Watch.”
He demonstrated perfect form, the ball hitting the center of the net again with a satisfying thwack.
Rachel tried again. This time, the ball went straight into the ground about three feet in front of her, bouncing weakly before rolling to a stop.
“Oh my God,” Rachel groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I'm hopeless.”
“You're not hopeless,” Jack said, wrapping his arms around her from behind again. “You just need practice. And maybe some natural athletic ability. Which, no offense, you don't have.”
Rachel elbowed him gently in the ribs. “I can swim now. That counts.”
“That absolutely counts,” Jack agreed, kissing her temple. “But maybe we stick to swimming and leave the baseball to me.”
“Deal.” Rachel turned in his arms and looked up at him. “Although watching you try to teach me was pretty entertaining.”
“For who?” Jack grinned.
“For everyone watching us.”
Jack's head whipped around, and sure enough, Colt, Joseph, Carrie, and Shiloh were all looking, barely concealing their amusement. George was in his lawn chair nearby, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.