4. Jaxon
One Year Ago
Sitting beside Luke on the bench in the pits, I worked through the breathing routine Coach taught us.
Inhale.
Exhale.
It did little to calm my racing heart or ease my nerves, but my muscles relaxed the slightest bit. I had to catch their eye.
We were playing against the team I wanted to be drafted into: the Atlanta Braves. They were fierce competition, but I wasn’t afraid of losing—not today. We had to win.
“You can do this, man. Here’s to throwing a record-breaking pitch.” Luke clapped me on the back. As he adjusted his hat, I saw the nerves in his eyes. Last year when we played this team, their pitcher, Richard Balmer, had thrown dirty and cost us the whole game, and the referee had sided with their coach.
We were all a little tense and anxious for today, but I was determined to show his coach I was better. He needed me more than him, and my coach understood my need for a change. He had a family at home, too.
“As long as you get us at least three home runs, buddy.” He grinned, white teeth bright in the dark pit.
“Yeah, no pressure, right? How many times have you thrown a hundred mile-per-hour pitch?” He scratched his jaw. “Oh, that’s right—you haven’t.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve got it in you. I overheard Coach talking to someone on the phone about it. You just don’t believe in yourself.”
Hundred mile-per-hour pitches were rare but becoming increasingly more common. The Braves’ pitcher had yet to throw one, and I was hoping if I could, that would seal my fate.
Rolling my neck, the tight muscles loosened. I twisted my back, and the joints popped. “No time like the present, right?”
The stadium was packed. Our side was a brilliant sea of navy blue, yellow, and white, fans screaming as we exited the dugout. The cleat chasers held signs up, asking us to marry them, our jersey numbers printed on big cardboard signs. Cowbells rang, and adrenaline surged through my veins.
The other side of the stadium, decked out in navy, scarlet, and white, also cheered as their team joined us. We stood in line for the national anthem, my heart beating so loudly, I could barely make out the voice of the young girl standing in the middle of the field, pouring her heart out.
When the referee blew his whistle, the game started. Standing on the mound, I stared down the stretch to the other player. He was waiting for me—the whole arena was.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Raising my knee, I prepared for my first pitch of the game. Tightening my fingers around the ball, I exhaled, and the ball soared from my fingers and straight into the glove of the catcher.
The umpire raised his fist, signaling the first strike. The announcer’s voice filled the field, and a collective gasp rang from the Braves’ side of the arena.
Preparing myself again, I closed my eyes.
Inhale.
Silence fell across the buzzing arena.
Exhale.
I lifted my knee and twisted my body.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Pitching the ball toward the batter, I waited. There was a loud crashing sound as the ball connected with the bat, and chaos erupted as the ball went soaring. The Braves’ player drops his bat and ran like his ass was on fire.
He made the first home run of the game, and the crowd burst into cheer. Our side was deadly silent as I prepared for the next batter. The guy grinned at me, jutting out his chin with arrogance, trying to throw me off my game.
Like always, I breathed, honing in on the silence and letting it calm me. Pitching the ball toward the arrogant player, it hit the catcher”s glove.
The umpire once again raised his fist. The announcer then informed the crowd of the strike. The batter scowled, tapped the dirt with his bat, and then lowered to his position. I waited for the umpire’s signal and then pitched the second ball to my catcher.
Again, the announcer let the crowd know of the second strike.
The player was now getting angry, his body tensing as I prepared for the third pitch. I rolled my shoulders and waited for my signal. Sweat rolled down my neck into the hem of my shirt. The thick material stuck to my back, and I itched to tear it off.
Throwing the third pitch, the bat clapped off the ball, and it soared over our heads. The batter dropped the ball and made it to first base before the Rays had possession of the ball.
When the Braves were close to getting their second home run, the player struck out. The batter from before was hovering on second base, waiting to finish this, but the last two batters also struck out. One more and Luke would have a chance at a home run, and I’d get a chance to rest my arm.
The announcer informed the crowd of what was happening. There was a mix of emotion from both sides as the first batter took the base again. I pitched the first ball to my catcher.
Everyone was on the edge of their seats as I threw the second, straight to the catcher again. Someone screamed, but I wasn’t letting anyone distract me.
“Ladies and gentlemen, did you see that?” The ball was flying above our heads as the Braves’ landed another homerun before we caught the ball and tagged the batter on the second base. “Pitcher Jaxon Dexter just threw a 105 mile-per-hour pitch!”
Holy fuck. I did it. I beat my own record.
The announcer started to talk about my record, my past, and how I was related to Dante Dexter. I tuned out my stats and turned to find Luke raising his fist to the sky and the rest of my team cheering for me.
I glanced up toward the box where the Braves’ team manager was sitting, I couldn’t see much through the tinted glass, but I hoped he saw that I was worth the chance.
* * *
We won 17 to 15.It was a close call, but Luke hit the winning home run. Coach shook our hands and nodded at me with silent congratulations for my new record.
After the game, we piled into the guest locker room, taking turns in the four shower stalls, washing the sweat and grime from our bodies. The summer sun had wiped us of all our energy, and the usual locker room ball-busting was minimal today.
“Fix things with Melanie?” I asked Luke as he dressed, while I shoved all my belongings into my duffle.
“Oh, yeah. We’re all good now. I need to call her. She was gonna watch the game from home.” His smile was big as he pulled me in for a one-armed hug. “You did fucking good today, Dexter. If they don’t recruit you, it’s their loss.”
“Time will tell, I guess. Are we goin’ out tonight, boys?” Everyone’s mutual agreement filled the space, bouncing off the walls, and Luke quickly found a local bar after a quick search on his phone. We settled on a time and then left the safety of the locker room to where the paparazzi, friends and family, and cleat chasers were waiting.
All of them were hungry for a piece of us.
The Braves had cleared out before we even got to the locker room. Richard Balmer shoved past me on his way out. He’d been known to be a sore loser in the league, so I brushed it off, thinking nothing of the exchange.
Excitement filled the air of the bus back to the hotel, where everyone went their own ways to recover from the afternoon heat before a night of drinking. We had to be at the airport tomorrow morning for a flight back home, where all of us would be nursing hangovers.
Gage’s name lit up the screen of my phone. Accepting the call, I held the device to my ear.
“What did you think?” I asked, shutting the door to my hotel room behind me and flipping the lock and deadbolt. I dropped my duffle bag to the ground as he sighed.
“Didn’t know you were that good. Shit, that was amazin’. What did it feel like?” His voice was full of excitement and, surprisingly, awe.
“I wanted to show them I was worth a chance. Hopefully, they’ll recruit me for the team. I heard they were lookin’ for another pitcher.” Falling to the bed, I laid there, staring at the ceiling, listening to Gage’s deep breaths.
“When will you find out?” There was some commotion in the background. A dog barked, a child cried, and he sighed.
“They should have decided by the mornin’, but usually, I’d know by now.” Worry crept into my voice, and from the silence that followed on the other end, I knew he had stepped away from his own problems to help with mine.
“What’s the process? Is it like the NFL? They need to ask your coach, right?” He knew I wanted to come back home; I had mentioned it a few months ago, and at the time, he had suggested approaching the Braves’ manager, but that was unheard of.
“My coach knows I want to make a switch to be closer to you guys, and he’s fine with it. The other coach will have to ask him and then will approach me with an offer.”
“And if they don’t offer, what’s your backup plan?” Gage asked.
“Then, I stay with the Rays for another season and try again. My friend, Luke, mentioned the Marlins are lookin’ for a pitcher, but I want to get out of Florida. I’m tired of the humidity and old people.” He chuckled.
“You sure you don’t just miss us? Didn’t seem like you wanted to leave the last time we all got together.” He wasn’t wrong. Visiting and leaving was getting harder because I was seeing the life I was missing out on.
“Right, as if I’m even thinkin’ about settlin’ down and gettin’ married like you fools. I still have a few wild years left.” There was more humor in my tone than seriousness, but I really wasn’t ready. The thought of a girl to come home to and kids terrified me.
“One day, she’s gonna come into your life and knock you so hard on your ass, you’ll be beggin’ her to keep you. You’ll want it all. The house, kids, even the fuckin’ dog, because you’ll be happy. But until you meet her, you won’t understand what I’m sayin’.” His words filled the silence, their weight heavy. He sighed when Carter called for him. “Look, man, I gotta go, but don’t give up. You deserve this. You’re a natural, and I am so proud of you.”
Clearing my throat of the emotion burning there, I swallowed. “Thanks. I have big boots to fill. I only hope I can do that.”
“You’ve already filled them. Stop worryin’ about Dad and us. We wouldn’t care if you never played a damn sport again. Just be happy. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Yeah. I have a week off comin’ up. I’ll fly up to see y’all.”
Ending the call, I let the phone drop to the mattress. Closing my eyes, I breathed in the stale hotel room air.
I beat my own record today.
A moment I wished I could have shared with my dad and all my brothers.