6. Jaxon
Present
Sunlight streamed into my bedroom of the penthouse I’d fallen in love with a month ago after signing with the Atlanta Braves. Their current pitcher, Richard Balmer, was on his way out, and I was going to be the lucky one to fill his position.
For the next season, I’d play as his backup, but the Braves’ coach and team manager had taken a liking to me. And surprisingly, they knew my brothers, which helped sway their choice of offering me a chance.
It wasn’t my 105 mile-per-hour pitch, although that had gained me quite the following, and because of it everyone had higher expectations of me. It was my family history, one brother in the NFL two that tried, our name was popular in the sports industry.
My alarm went off again, and I reached for my phone on the bedside table to silence it. Peace filled the room once again.
Just as I was about to fall back asleep, exhausted from yesterday’s training, the phone buzzed in my hand. Answering the call without checking the caller ID, I immediately regretted it.
“You better be out of bed, man.” Luke was a morning person—always had been—and I had always been a night owl. Sometimes, I wondered how we got along.
“You damn well know I’m still in bed. I told you how late practice ran last night,” I grumbled, sliding a hand down my face and rubbing my tired eyes.
“I also know that you have your first game in a week, and you want to be pitching rather than keeping the bench warm, right?” Sometimes, I hated the fucker.
Times like right now because he was right.
Richard was the only player on the team who took an immediate dislike to me, not that it was any surprise, but he was making it hard to be accepted by spreading rumors.
He’d already told everyone I took steroids the day I threw my record-breaking pitch, and some believed him.
“That dipshit start anything new?” Luke asked and I sighed.
“Half the guys keep checking to make sure I’m not taking steroids, the others could care less, but Coach is breathing down my neck.” Sitting up, I stood from the bed and stumbled into my bathroom.
“What about that bartender, Logan? Bump into her yet?” Since Luke had proposed to Melanie and picked a date for their upcoming wedding, he was hell-bent on finding me a date. He reminded me a few times a week it was time to start looking for a girl to take home and settle down with.
“I’m not goin’ near her, man. Remember, her ex is one of my teammates. That’s a can of worms I don’t want to open anytime soon.” He chuckled.
“When has that ever stopped you? You’re Jaxon Dexter. Whatever you want, you take.”
Logan had been a mistake.
A mistake I didn’t want to make twice.
I had fallen for her green eyes, and the moment she opened those pretty pink lips and mentioned one of my favorite beers, I was a goner.
Most women didn’t know a thing about beer, but she was well-versed, and after watching her throw her slender neck back for a shot, I wanted her in my bed.
“It was a mistake—” I started to tell him, but he erupted into laughter.
“Bullshit. Don’t lie to me. She was still in your bed the next morning we left. You never let them stay,” he reminded me. He’d made fun of me the entire flight home and told Melanie all about the bartender who’d changed me.
“She had nowhere to go,” I argued, thinking back to the conversation I shared with her in the early hours of the morning.
I was pretty sure the alcohol made her spill all her secrets about her ex, but she still withheld a name and refused to go into detail. All I knew was that they dated for a while, and he was terrible in bed. She’d thanked me for making her see stars and for being gentle.
Hell, I’d never been complimented in bed before. He must have been useless.
She humbled me in one night, and when I woke the next morning, her soft, black hair tickling my nose as she cuddled into my chest, I was sure I had died and gone to Heaven.
Never in all my years did I ever think a woman could make me want more than one night.
But Logan did.
She showed me in one night what I could have.
“You daydreaming about her, man? No time for that now. We have a run to go on.” Groaning, I brushed my teeth and changed into a pair of joggers.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re fuckin’ annoyin’?” He chuckled as I laced up my sneakers.
“All the damn time, man. Have you met Mel? I think she tells me ten times a day.”
“And somehow, she’s still marryin’ your sorry ass.”
* * *
Checking my reflection,I adjusted my tie one last time before stepping into the room where my coach was sitting at a table with the team manager and a reporter.
It was time to announce my arrival to the Atlanta Braves. I hadn’t told my family the news about me getting signed yet.
After today, I wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore. My arrival to this team was breaking news in the league, especially with Richard Balmer’s retirement coming soon.
“You’ll just answer a few questions, but your coach will do most of the talkin’, okay, hun?” the older reporter told me, reading over her notepad. I nodded, my tongue dry from nerves. “Congrats on the team swap, by the way. The Braves are my favorite.” She winked and then prepped Coach with the questions she was going to ask him.
I took my seat, adjusting my suit jacket, wishing I could just rip it off and undo the tie wrapped around my neck.
An Atlanta Braves team hat was laying on the table, and the manager handed it to me. I put the stiff hat on my head and stared ahead at the camera.
“Going live in three, two, one,” the cameraman said, and the reporter stood in front of him, a fake smile tugging at her bright red lips.
“Good evening, Atlanta! Behind me is the Atlanta Braves’ hottest new recruit. He started his career late in the game, but he’s been taking the league by storm. You know his brother, Dante Dexter, but have you met Jaxon Dexter?” The cameraman turned the big device to me, and sweat rolled down my neck.
I waved, unsure what was expected but kept a grin plastered to my face. I want to be here. As nerve-wracking as this was, I wanted to be here on this team.
“You caught the coach’s eye at a game last season, is that right?” she asked, and I paused.
What was I supposed to say?
“I hope so. I played for the Tampa Bay Rays last season, and when we played against the Braves’, I threw my first ever three-digit mile-per-hour pitch.” She nodded, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Coach did, too.
“What did that feel like, Jaxon? You’re late to the sport, so you must have put in a lot of extra work to get to this point.”
“Funny enough, I didn’t know I had hit 105 until the announcer screamed it. I think I was in shock. It felt like every other time I had thrown the ball, except I put everythin’ I had into that throw.” She grinned, and it eased my nerves. Talking about baseball had become therapy.
“So, tell us why you chose baseball and not football like your brothers.”
This was the question I wasn’t sure how to answer. It was fun to play with my brothers and dad, but without them, I hated it.
“I grew up playin’ football. I think as soon as I could run, my dad had me out in our backyard, playin’ with my brothers. He wanted all of us to play pro, but only Dante made it. I was following his path until I realized I wasn’t enjoyin’ the sport anymore. We all played baseball during the off-season to stay in shape, and it just made sense. Plus, I don’t have to run as much.” I winked, earning laughter from everyone in the room.
“When can we expect to see you on the field?” she asked, and I turned to Coach because ultimately, it was his decision.
“Hopefully soon. I’m still learnin’ the dynamics of the team, and I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, you know?” She nodded as if I had just given her the perfect segway to start talking about Balmer.
She turned her attention to Coach, and the tension eased from my body, the bright lights no longer on me.
She questioned Coach and the team manager and then ended her segment. I was relieved it was over, but from the buzzing coming from my pocket, the buzzing that hadn’t stopped for the last ten minutes, my family now knew. Which meant I had to deal with the consequences of not telling them first.
Coach shook my hand and then the team manager. I thanked them for what felt like the hundredth time and then exited the building, the fall breeze cooling me down.
Pulling my phone from my pants pocket, I cringed at the caller ID.
“Hey, Ma,” I answered, getting into my black F-150.
“Hey, Ma? Is that all you’ve got to say, young man?” She pauses. I could hear dad in the background and waited. “Why didn’t you tell us you were goin’ to the Braves? And why haven’t you come to visit if you’re so close?!” She wasn’t asking, that was for damn sure.
“I wanted to surprise you, that’s all. Is everyone there?” I sighed, gripping the steering wheel.
“Oh, we’re all here, brother,” Dante said, chuckling. “You could have made me sound better, you know. That reporter loved me.” His wife, Brooklyn, started to question him about the reporter, and I fought a grin.
I missed them.
I missed the craziness.
“Son, are you happy?” Dad’s voice was gruff, tired, weathered, and not what I was expecting.
“I love the game, Dad,” I told him, waiting for his approval. Needing it.
“What dad isn’t asking, but I will, is where are our season tickets? You better hook us up, little brother,” Gage said. Dante wasn’t kidding about everyone being there.
“I’ll work somethin’ out with my coach. But I won’t be playin’ for the first few games until they announce Balmer’s retirement.”
“We want to be there when you pitch. I want to see that 105 mile-per-hour pitch in person,” Archer said, and somehow, his silent approval of switching to the Braves lifted a weight off my shoulders.
“I’ll make sure you all have tickets and merch to wear.” I ended the call a few minutes later after promising a trip home with Mom demanding it be soon.