Chapter Fourteen
Present Day
Madden watched the sun disappear behind the wall of the stadium, but it blinked back into his eyes as soon as he stood to
throw the latest strike back to the pitcher. The game had gone to extra innings and his thighs were beginning to ache from
being in the crouched position so long, but he performed the necessary mental math, nonetheless, ordering himself to stay
sharp.
The next batter strutted up to the plate while taking practice swings, “Fein” by Travis Scott blasting from all ends of the
stadium. So far this season, at least one player on every team had this as their walk-up music, but Madden could admit, it
was effective. The crowd was on their feet behind him. Madden blocked out the stomps and raised voices, however, and recalled
the batter’s style, along with the pitches that were landing tonight.
Answer: not many.
The pitcher Ruiz’s moment in the spotlight was fading, his career on a downswing.
Meanwhile, the bloke at the plate was in the midst of the best season of his life.
Madden had a feeling Ruiz wanted to walk the batter and hope for a double play on the next at bat.
But considering the batter hadn’t gotten on base once tonight, Madden figured he’d be impatient.
He’d swing at the first decent pitch, they’d have their final out and take the win.
Madden signaled for a breaking ball.
The pitcher spat, shook his head.
After a hesitation, Madden dropped the sign for a slider.
Another denial.
Madden punched his glove, put it up. Waited.
Throw what you want, then, motherfucker.
As predicted, Ruiz walked the batter. But instead of a double play on the next at bat, the batter clocked one out of the park,
scoring two runs and effectively ending the game.
“Son of a bitch,” Ruiz bellowed fifteen minutes later as he walked behind Madden into the locker room, throwing his glove
against the row of lockers. “How about giving me a decent signal out there?”
Madden searched for some extra patience and couldn’t come up with any. He’d played on several baseball teams since coming
to the States and he’d never met a bigger group of prima donnas in his life. His pitchers refused to admit even the most obvious
of mistakes, searching for any reason to believe they were still the wizards of baseball they’d been called throughout their
careers.
That compelling need he’d had more and more lately—to speak up, to stop playing it safe in the background—grew stronger than
ever. Maybe the sudden burst of self-assurance came from Eve agreeing to be his wife or the fact that his hard work on the
field had been rewarded with opportunity.
Whatever the reason, he was tired of being quiet. Tired of making himself inconspicuous so everyone would be comfortable,
the way he’d done growing up.
“You might want to check the tape, man,” Madden bit off. “It was your decision to walk him.”
Ruiz turned around. “What the fuck did you say?”
Madden stared at him without flinching.
“Jesus. Is this guy really the best we could do?”
“Yeah, I am,” Madden responded, his delivery low and precise. “And you know why? They busted the salary cap signing a bunch
of overpriced fucking crybabies.”
He expected the punch.
Honestly, he might have even wanted it.
Only one day of stressing that Eve would back out of the wedding already had him sleep deprived and pacing the edge of an
invisible cliff. Madden knew she needed to make doctors’ appointments, but she continued to hold off on connecting their names,
which had him anxious. Missing her too. God, the missing of her was like a hot rash on his skin.
As the fist connected with the right side of his face, Madden wanted to regret inciting the man. After all, he needed this
position with the Yankees to support Eve and the kids. But the pain felt so familiar, it took him right out of his stress.
He’d been hit many times before and survived. It wasn’t a healthy thing that the reminder of what he’d survived could calm
his jumpiness, but there it was. The truth.
Maybe I didn’t simply survive. Maybe I earned the right to be here.
Maybe I don’t have to feel like a fraud hiding behind a mask anymore.
Madden thought of his aunt’s words: You are welcome here, in this house of accused black sheep, but don’t make the same mistake I made. Allowing yourself to
be run off when you’ve done nothing wrong but exist.
Madden’s eyes flew open at that, his jaw and cheekbone stinging from the punch.
Several players had inserted themselves between Madden and Ruiz, corralling the pitcher on the other side of the locker room. No one was bothering to hold Madden back because he hadn’t budged an inch under the blow.
“Damn, the rookie can take a punch. You have to give him that.”
“Don’t have to call us out like that, man,” someone said in his ear. Chandler. The shortstop. “I’m only a crybaby on days
that end in Y.”
Madden made eye contact with every player, in turn. “I said what I said.”
Chandler backed off, hands up in surrender. “Respect.”
Madden couldn’t shower, change, and get out of there fast enough. On one hand, he wanted to rewind the last fifteen minutes
and stay silent. Making waves in the locker room could only jeopardize the stability he was hoping to provide Eve, and god,
he couldn’t have that. But the part of Madden that had been quiet and agreeable for so long, saddled with the guilt he’d been
carrying since birth, felt like he’d taken a deep breath of fresh air by being heard. Using his voice and feeling as if it
was relevant. Worth hearing.
Desperate for a distraction, Madden slid his phone out of the side pocket of his equipment bag where it sat in the passenger
seat of his truck. And he called Elton.
“Hey,” his best friend answered. “Fucking Ruiz. You made the right call. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make
him drink. Is that how that saying goes?”
“Something like that.” Madden eyed himself in the rearview. “Had a little dustup with him in the locker room. Should be sporting
a shiner by tomorrow morning.”
“No shit? He hit you?”
“He’s better at pitching,” Madden said dryly, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel, a prickle of nerves tightening his scalp. “Do you think Eve will mind that I’ve got a black eye on our wedding day?”
“Nah, I doubt it.” A long pause, followed by something being knocked over in the background. “Wait, what? Did you say wedding day?”
“I did.” Pride stuck in Madden’s throat so firmly, he had to wait for the obstruction to clear. “In two days’ time. As soon
as I can drive back to Rhode Island.”
Elton laughed incredulously. “Two days? I’m so lost.” A silent sputter ensued. “Have you been seeing her behind everyone’s back? You have to be leaving out ninety
percent of the story.”
“All you need to know is she’s marrying me.” Madden’s fingers went still on the steering wheel. “But we’re not telling people,
so it needs to stay between us.”
“What? I already group texted everyone in my contacts.”
Madden’s spine snapped straight. “You didn’t.”
“Nah, I’m just messing with you.”
He slumped back into the driver’s seat, left hand to his pumping chest.
Elton was silent a moment. “Anyone with two eyes could see there was something between you and Eve for the longest time. I
figured you two decided it wasn’t worth the risk of losing the friendship. What changed?”
Madden considered telling Elton that Eve had avoided anything romantic with him for so long because Skylar had been nursing
a crush, but he liked Skylar too much to give her brother that kind of ammunition to use against her. And he would.
Besides, Eve’s reluctance to give him a real, authentic chance wasn’t solely about Skylar anymore.
Eve had been ostracized and mocked in Cumberland for so long, she now believed herself a liability.
Madden swallowed the rising tide of anger on Eve’s behalf.
Anger at himself for not being capable of shielding her from the hatred.
“I’m marrying her for financial security. She’s got the kids now.” Jesus, saying the rest made him vulnerable, a place he
did not like to be, but he needed to offload to someone. “But I wouldn’t mind it being real.”
“Wouldn’t mind it?”
“Prefer.”
“Prefer?”
“I’d sell my soul for her. Are you happy now?”
“When am I ever happy, my dude?” Elton coughed. “What about her? Is she strictly business about this?”
“Yes,” Madden said. His physical relationship with Eve was nobody’s business but theirs. He didn’t even want another man thinking
of Eve in terms of who she was sleeping with and when. Not even Elton, who treated Eve like a second sister. That was Madden’s
business and his business alone. “There’s no way you can make it to Rhode Island for the ceremony, right? Are you on the road?”
“We’re home for the next three games.” Elton paused while he presumably checked the schedule on his phone. “Can you wait a
week?”
Hell no. Three days was a stretch. “Absolutely not.”
“Okay, turbo. Let me talk to the coach about missing practice. It’s not every day my best friend gets hitched in a top-secret
ceremony.” He made a disappointed sound. “There isn’t even time to throw you a bachelor party. What is the point of having
a best friend?”
“I wouldn’t have allowed you to throw me one, anyway.”
“Of course not.” Elton sighed, but there was a smile in the sound. “I’ll text you once I’ve talked to Coach.”
“Grand. And Elton, remember, we’re not telling anyone about this.”
“How am I going to explain to my parents why I’m in town?”
“Tell them you’re homesick.”
“Real talk, I wouldn’t be lying. My balls sweat enough in Florida to fill a kiddie pool.” He carried on, as if that imagery
didn’t have Madden on the verge of dry heaving. “Eve said you could tell me about the marriage?”
“Yes. She’s telling one person too. That was the deal.”
“Is she telling Skylar?”
“Not yet,” he hedged, not sure how to tell Elton that his stepsister had been crushing on Madden for the better part of a
decade. “I think Eve would rather wait and tell Skylar in person. She’s telling Veda, this new friend slash babysitter of
hers. I think she’s coming to the wedding.”
“Veda. Is she hot?”
“She’s too young for you.”
“Does she have a sister?”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re coming here to be my witness, not get laid.”
“Fine. Jesus. If it happens, though . . . it happens.”
“Okay, I have to go. Maybe see you soon. Not sure I want to anymore.”
They shared a laugh and hung up, Madden checking his phone calendar for the date, as if it had changed since the last time
he looked.
Two more days, Eve.