I set my beer down and then lift her off the ground, spin her and listen to the sweet laughter that leaves her perfect mouth. When I stop moving, I meet her gaze. “Hi.” It comes out gruffer this time. “Hey,” she says back, a little breathless. I set her back on the ground but keep hugging her. “How was your tournament?” “I got third,” she says, a hint of pride in her voice. “Amazing. Must have been the licorice.” More of that sweet laughter filters out. “Must have been.”
