Sarah Ziemann

21%
Flag icon
A low chuckle leaves me, and I hustle for the ball and back. “Again.” We continue for a good ten minutes, both of us working up a sweat despite the chilled March evening. When Meyer tosses the bat, my shoulders drop. I’ll admit I was having fun. Then again, I always do when a baseball’s in my hands. I guess the fun’s over. Or maybe not ... My eyes hold on Meyer as she walks over to the short gate in front of the dugout, opposite of where she set
Dirty Curve
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview