Chapter 2
TWO
IAN
Shame over my behavior wells up fast, thawing the anger I felt toward Jaggar. And at everyone and everything else that has made today the worst day ever.
Tuning out the noise of the crowd and barks of dogs, I keep my focus on Hawk, and not on the retreating form of the extremely handsome, passionate, and obstinate man who stole my attention from the moment he arrived at the ball field. “I haven’t been scowling all day.”
“Then you might want to inform your face.” Hawk taps a gloved fingertip against my forehead. The navy material softens the impact. “Resting scowl-face isn’t like you, Ian.”
I suck in a breath, then release it in a slow exhale that puffs my cheeks.
I’m typically a look on the bright side, easygoing guy.
The one who lifts people up. Who turns negatives into positives.
Who helps. Not an unfriendly, scowling force who sucks the fun out of things.
“Sorry. I’m just… in pain. I twisted my knee yesterday. It’s been throbbing all day.”
Every step, every movement. Throb. Throb. Throb.
His gaze drops to my jeans, wet with snow and mud, but looks up in time to catch my grimace as I shift my weight. “What happened?”
“One of my guys lost his footing coming off the moving van and dropped a large vase. I dove to catch it, slipped on some ice, and my knee took the brunt of the impact. At least the vase stayed in one piece, because we bubble wrapped the hell out of it.”
“Maybe try bubble wrapping yourself next time.” Hawk claps his hand on my shoulder. “You should’ve said something earlier. Standing out here, putting pressure on it wasn’t a good idea.”
Wind whips around us, scattering snow from the piles around the field. “I didn’t feel right about backing out at the last minute. I figured I’d be okay since I was only supposed to umpire one game.”
Hawk winces. “Which turned into four games, thanks to me asking you to fill in for Griffin.”
Hawk called me in a panic this morning after Griffin got his car stuck in a snowbank when he swerved to avoid hitting a dog on his way to the field.
Thinking about Griff, the narrow roads on some of the mountains, and the steep drops, puts things into perspective. “We’re lucky Griff didn’t get injured, and the dog is safe. I can deal with some discomfort.”
“Still. You should’ve told me.” Lines of concern fanning around his eyes, he squeezes my shoulder.
“You were a little stressed with all this chaos.” I wave my hand toward the dogs and people. “I wanted to help. That’s what friends do.”
His smile is bright and beaming. “Thank you. I can ask if someone else can finish the game for you.”
I wave him off. “No. It’s only half an inning.”
Plus one more game after that. My knee throbs in revolt.
“Okay, but I’ll get Rory to umpire the next game. You’re going to drink hot chocolate and sit with the dogs. And that’s an order.” He narrows his eyes and points at me, but the yellow and blue pompom of his knit hat flopping onto his forehead foils his attempt at looking stern.
“I promise I’ll be better. Happier. I swear I’ve been trying my best to call things right.” Worry that my demeanor has ruined people’s experience of the event gnaws at my stomach.
Hawk sighs and glances at the dugout. “I thought you were doing a good job.”
“Thanks.”
Conall jogs over and throws his arm around my shoulder. “You good to continue?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
He waves away my apology. “We’ll talk after the game. I’ll have a hot drink waiting for you. Half coffee, half cocoa?”
“You know me well.”
Beaming at me, he turns to the players, cups his hands around his mouth, and raises his voice. “Okay people, it’s the bottom of the fifth. Play ball!”
A smattering of applause breaks out from the players and the people crowded onto the bleachers. Conall bows at the waist, picks up a tennis ball, and wings it into right field. Six dogs bound across the infield and outfield after it.
Ever King, the catcher, and seller of the best honey in all of Vermont, gets into position behind home plate and nods at me.
His silver hair gleams in the sunlight. “If people were arguing with me the way they’ve been on you today, I would’ve been tempted to grease the bats or balls with honey or something. ”
A grin splits my cheeks, and I have my first real laugh of the day. “Now, that would really bee something.”
Groaning, he pulls his hat onto his head. “Man, that’s bad. You’ve been hanging out with Alaric too much.”
Alaric, our lover of puns, is busy helping with the dogs.
Smiling, I nod at the approaching batter, a tall teen wearing a jacket supporting the local high school football team, and get into position.
My knee twinges, but I force my features away from a scowl.
I can get through this. If the batter’s team gets three outs, the game will end in a tie, but if they score one run, the game is over.
Swing and a miss. “Strike!”
The teen chokes up on the bat. Rory pitches the ball, and he swings again. The ball misses the bat by inches and Ever clamps his mitt around it.
“Strike two!”
The batter’s shoulders slump, and the defeat in his posture hits me hard. Since this is a charity game, no one should mind if I give a little assistance.
I gently tap him on the shoulder. “Hey.”
He turns to face me, biting his lip, disappointment clouding his eyes. “Yeah?”
“You’re doing good. Try to swing more level. You’re uppercutting. Wait for the ball to come down instead of chasing it up high.” I mime the action to show him what I mean, so he’ll understand.
Determination settles over his features, and he gives me a smile. “Thanks. Football’s my sport, not softball, but I really want to get a hit. My boyfriend’s in the stands. He adopted a Dalmatian today.”
“You’ll get it. Just relax. And like I said, wait for the ball to come to you.”
He turns around, nods at Rory to show he’s ready, and Rory releases the ball. I hold my breath, watching the ball arc, and willing the kid to hold out for an extra few seconds.
I can’t help myself, or stay neutral. This kid wants a hit, and I want to help. “Swing now.”
He swings.
Ping!
The bat connects with the ball, sending it deep into left field, where it falls in the snow.
The teen drops the bat and takes off, racing to first base.
His teammates cheer him on, and he keeps running.
The players in the outfield are looking for the ball, and the dogs dancing around them are hindering the search.
“Go, Jaxon!” The teammates cheer, and he rounds third, and then comes home, high-fiving me and Ever as he crosses home plate, before racing into the dugout and hugging his teammates.
“Game over.” I can’t keep the happiness out of my voice. Careful of my knee and the mess of mud and snow, I walk with Ever toward the break in the fence.
He pats me on the back then points at the gangly teen and Dalmatian making their way into the dugout, and the joy on Jaxon’s face as he meets them. “Nice work. You made his day.”
If only I had managed myself better earlier, I could’ve made other people’s day happier too. I have a lot to make up for. “The other team may not think so. But I think anyone in my position would’ve done the same thing. They look happy.”
“Happy is more than I can say for how you looked earlier.” Conall appears at my side and drops his arm over my shoulder. He presses a steaming cup into my hand. “Come. Sit. Talk. You too, Ever.”
Ever shakes his head. “Can’t. I need to head to Island Vibes. Dmitri’s there. We’re helping with set up for the doggy dating.”
He walks with us toward the bleachers, then continues toward the parking lot. I scan the seats as I sit, but there’s no sign of Jaggar.
The throbbing in my knee intensifies. We’re on the lowest bleacher, so I can stretch out my legs and prop the injured one on the other.
Conall’s an excellent bartender, and though there isn’t any alcohol in my drink, the ratio of cocoa to coffee is perfect.
I take a sip, then a longer one, and sigh at the sunny sky.
“I fucked up today. Didn’t mean to be so miserable. ”
He leans into my shoulder. “Hawk said you’re injured?”
“Yeah. But even so.”
“Even so. It’s cold out. And that Mastiff plowed into you from behind when you first got here.”
I huff a laugh. “He was excited to play in the snow. But yeah, I landed on my knee again.”
He scrunches his nose. “That must have sucked.”
“Just a lot.” I knock my shoulder into his. “A snowball down the back of my neck wasn’t the greatest.”
“I swear I wasn’t behind that.” He sips his coffee, then calls out encouragement for the guy taking practice swings at home plate. “It came from the crowd.”
Sliding a hand over the back of my neck, I steal a glance at the people crowding the bleachers. “I think it was from someone who didn’t like losing their game.”
He murmurs his agreement. “And you had to deal with over-competitive players taking a charity game as seriously as they would a championship. Not just Jaggar. Don’t forget I’ve been here all day too.”
“Too many people with too many opinions. Next year, any one of them can, and should, take on the role of umpire. See how they handle things then.” I’m cold and tired of being yelled at by people who should be focused on fun, raising money for the shelter, and finding forever homes for the dogs, instead of arguing balls and strikes and the outcome of a softball game.
Conall offers me a sympathetic smile. “You’ve had a hard day.”
“That doesn’t excuse the way I behaved. I can’t believe I lost my temper with Jaggar.” I turn my head, scanning the stands for him again.
“He’s not here. I told him to cool off, or actually, warm up, at my place. He’ll be at Island Vibes. Buy him a drink, talk. You’ll be friends before you know it.”
Wincing at the rudeness of our encounter, I down another mouthful. The sweetness of the chocolate can’t soothe the raw ache in my chest. “I don’t know about that.”