He sprinted toward the dugout, ball still in his hand. I didn’t know he was capable of scaling walls more deftly than a cat, but in a blink, he was on the roof of the dugout, standing in front of me with the ball in his hand. I barely noticed the movement around us, of cellphone cameras coming out as he bent down and leaned forward. “Hello, Marnie Matthews.” I blinked away the emotion in my eyes. “Hey.” He held his hand out. “I caught you a ball.”
