A woman.

Tears prick my eyes and an overwhelming sense of self takes over.

I'm beautiful.

"Oh my God," Amanda says, taking me in and then quickly turns and shouts out of the dressing room. "Hollyn! You have to come see Daisy."

Walking up behind me, Amanda zips up the rest of my dress and then puts her hands on my hips, leaning over my shoulder, she smiles at me in the mirror. "You are stunning, Daisy. Absolutely stunning."

"Let me see." Hollyn pushes the dressing room curtain to the side. Wearing an icy-blue dress as well, hers sans sleeves, she brings her hands to her chest. "Ah, Daisy. Look at you. You look amazing." Scanning me up and down, she comes closer and pokes my boob. "What? Those are real?"

"Oh, I know," Amanda adds. "The girl has an amazing rack but never shows it off."

"They're so perky." Hollyn pokes my boob again.

"And big." Amanda pokes the top of my breast. Is this what happens when girls go shopping together? Is it a rite of passage to have your boobs poked by a friend?

"What are those? Cs?"

"Can't be any less than a C."

Both of them continue to talk about my breasts, poking them back and forth as I stare at myself in the mirror realizing this is a pivotal moment in my life. Right now, I look like a woman, the adult I want to be. Piled on the chaise lounge, folded neatly, is the little girl who I've been striving to get away from. I have two choices: I can take this moment and build off it, or I can remove this dress, forget about the woman in the mirror, and revert back to the little girl in overalls.

For the first time, I want to be the woman in the mirror.

Right now I'm supposed to be thinking about my future goals, who I want to be, where I want to be after the Dear Life program is over. I'm supposed to be dreaming big and that's what I'm doing right now.

"I need help." My words interrupt both Amanda and Hollyn who have now taken to lifting their boobs in the mirror and comparing them.

"What do you need help with?" Amanda asks. "Is everything okay with the dress?"

"Everything is fine." Looking at both of them, I say, "I need help giving myself a makeover."

Both Hollyn and Amanda exchange glances and then smile brightly at me. "Oh, this day just got so much better." Amanda weaves her arm through mine, linking us together. "Goodbye overalls, hello hot-sex pants."

"No hot-sex pants," I shoot back, a blush rising up my cheeks.

"Oh, we are so getting you hot-sex pants," Hollyn adds, linking her arm as well.

"I don't even know what hot sex-pants are."

"You will." Amanda pats my hand. "Just you wait and see."

Oh goodness. Hot-sex pants, what did I get myself into?

JACE.

"Thanks for coming over." I step to the side and let Carter into my apartment.

"Not a problem."

I watch closely as he takes in my place. It's very modest for a professional baseball player but it's me. I don't need a bunch of flashy, unimportant things clogging up my living space.

"Want a beer?"

"Sure?" Carter answers, hands in his pockets, still looking around.

We both walk into the open-concept living space, and when I go to the kitchen for two beers, he stays in the living room and checks out the view of the mountain range. I don't know much about Carter, but I can imagine my living space might rival his.

"Here." I hand him a beer, cap already popped off.

He examines the bottle and nods in approval. "Laughing Lab. Good Scottish ale."

"Bristol Brewery down in the Springs is one of my favorite places. I love their micro-brews."

"I haven't been but I've tried their Red Rocket and Beehive beers. Laughing Lab in my opinion is their best."

"Can't agree more." Motioning to the couch, I say, "Take a seat."

Even though I invited Carter over, I'm feeling a little uncomfortable. I don't really know the guy but I want to get to know him because I think we could help lean on each other through a common ground; having no family to rely on.

"What's up?" Carter gets straight to the point. "Did you call me over here to try to convince me that that godforsaken program is actually beneficial if taken seriously? Because if you did, don't waste your breath."

I don't think I've ever met somebody with a bigger chip on their shoulder.

Sitting back on the couch, I take a sip of my beer and say, "What happened?" If he's going to be honest, then I'm going to be honest. "I want to know why you don't mind acting like a giant dick most of the time."

A small smirk peeks past the beer bottle raised to his mouth, his fingers barely gripping the neck of the glass. He leans back as well, props an ankle up on his knee and says, "Is that what this is? You want to get to know me."

"Why the fuck not?" I answer back. "As the two men in the group, we should establish some sort of rapport, don't you think?"

"Not really." He shakes his head. "But I'm probably going to ask for tickets to a game this summer, so it's looking like I'm going to have to spill it."

"I'm glad you realize that," I say with a smile.

"Fuck." He runs his hand over his face and then points his bottle at me. "They better be awesome fucking tickets."

"Your story better be worth it."

Silence settles between us. We both sip our beers, our gazes looking out the window toward the mountains, appreciating the great landscape of Colorado.

"My parents died from a drug overdose," Carter cuts in, keeping his eyes on the mountains. Oh fuck. "They were the best kind of parents. Irresponsible, never kept a job, couldn't care less about their child, and often had friends over to binge on drugs and alcohol during the week days when I was trying to get my school work done." He drapes an arm over the back of my couch and fixes his eyes on mine. "When they died, I was relieved. No more parties, no more seeing my parents high as shit, and no more cleaning up after them." A sardonic laugh comes out of him. "And I thought that was hell until my legal guardian became Uncle Chuck."

"A real prize?"

"Yeah, you can say that. My presence was apparently a real burden on his life, and he had no problem hiding that fact from me. Every day. It's a real slap to the dick, knowing as a child you're not wanted anywhere."

"Tell me about it," I say. "The foster care system isn't fucking Disney World either."

Sizing me up, he tips his head up at me. "Foster kid?"

"Yup."

"That's shitty."

From over our beers, we commiserate together with one simple look. That's all it takes.

Carter smirks and says, "Look at us, fucking mommy and daddy issues."

Laughter fills the room and I sigh. "Yeah, real fucking lucky we are. So, your uncle is an asshole. What does that have to do with the program?"

"I owe him money for school. I'm working off my debt and was so close to paying him off when my ex took all my money and ran. I was a month or so away from finally being able to tell my uncle to fuck off. Now, I'm back to zero. Lost my shit at work, and thanks to Hollyn, who suggested this program to my uncle, I'm in. I can either see it through or add two more years to my servitude. So, I show up, do the minimum, and leave. Nothing in it for me, man."

I nod, understanding his story. "Makes sense why you're a shit stick at every meeting."

"Just a little window into my fucked-up life," he offers with a tilt of his beer in my direction.

Fucked-up life it is.

"Don't you want more, though?" I ask, knowing I'm pushing my luck with Carter. I'm lucky I got him to talk this much. In fact, I didn't actually expect him to tell me anything. I really am going to have to score him good tickets. "The program might actually help."

"I can't change the circumstances. The only thing I need is ten thousand dollars and a kick to the dick to end my misery."

"No matter how fucked-up your life is, man, you don't want a kick to the dick."

Smiling, he nods, his mouth full of beer. "You're right, I don't feel that shitty about myself." He then looks around my living space and says, "You should really have a pool table in here or something."

"Yeah, you're not the first person to say that." His phone beeps and I watch a small smirk appear on his face when he reads the message. He types something out in haste and then looks back out toward the mountains. I've only seen that smile on him one other time, when he's talking to Daisy. So I decide to push my luck. "Besides the touchy-feely stuff you clearly don't like to participate in, do you like the program?"

"No. Seems useless to me."

"But the group is cool. It seems like you and Daisy get along well."

From the mention of her name, his eyes shoot to mine. "What are you getting at?" he asks, seeing right through me. Yeah, he's good.

"Just seeing where your head's at with her."

"You her big brother?"

"No. Just wondering."

Avoiding my question, he asks, "What's with you and Hollyn?"

"Nothing really," I answer honestly. "We are kind of going through the same thing, suffering from the loss of a loved one. We get each other. It's nice to talk to someone you can relate to. Kind of like you and Daisy, how you both want to free yourselves."

"Daisy and I are completely different. She's exploring the world for the first time. I know the shit the world has to offer."

"But you're helping her," I add.

He shrugs his shoulders. "There is something about her I like. She fascinates me. If I have to do this program, I might as well help her on her journey."

"She's pretty."

Smirking, he says, "You want to talk about the obvious boner you're sporting for Hollyn?"

I cringe. "Fuck."

"Dude, you stare way too much."

This isn't news to me. I know I stare too much, but for good reason. With her sleek, red hair, bright green eyes, and light splattering of freckles, she's fucking gorgeous. Not to mention her sarcastic tongue and endearing personality. It's hard, but I know to keep my distance.

She's still grieving her husband. Her fucking husband. A man she obviously loved deeply. From the look in her eyes when she talks about him, it's clear their love is the kind of love I've always wanted. It's passionate, deep, soul-wrenching.

I can't go there, though. It almost feels wrong, lusting after another man's wife. I know Eric's passed, and it's been a while, but it still feels wrong.

Does it feel wrong because I'm not a man who cheats? Would that be referred to as cheating?

Or is it because just from looking at Hollyn, I know she hasn't let him go?

Maybe a combination of both.

"It's a moot point," I say. "She's still too raw from losing her husband." Does she notice me staring? Does it make her uncomfortable? Fuck, I hope not.

Thoughtfully, Carter says, "I remember when Eric died. It was a dark day in the restaurant. I only met the man once, but even that brief moment I shared with him, his positive attitude was contagious. One of those guys who could rally the darkest of rooms. Pretty sure he would kick us Dear Lifers all in the ass."

A lively spirit, doesn't surprise me. I couldn't imagine Hollyn with anyone else.

"When Eric died, he took Hollyn's spirit with him. She's not the same person she once was. She used to be witty, amusing. We never really got along but at least back then, we didn't tear each other apart. After Eric died, my uncle had to put us on different shifts."

"Can't blame her, man. I know what it's like. I'm not the same man I was before Hope was born."

"Hope," Carter tests the name out. "Is that your daughter's name?"

I nod, my throat starting to grow tight. "Yeah, Alex and June named her Hope because that's what I gave them-a bundle of hope."

Fuck me, if I start crying right now.

Instead of pushing further, sensing the tension coiling inside me, Carter leans forward and sets his beer on the coffee table. "I think I'm going to head out."

Forcing out the words, I say, "Okay."

Together, we walk to the door, not exchanging any pleasantries, both well aware of the heaviness resting in our conversation.

Before he leaves, Carter says, "Good luck at spring training."

"Thanks, man."

I open the door, my head cast down at the ground since our conversation turned heavy quickly. There is no need for the man to see me break down. Carter is about to walk out of my apartment when he abruptly stops and say, "Uh, sorry. I didn't see you there."