2. Brooks
CHAPTER 2
brOOKS
I t was hot as fuck out and I wouldn’t be sad to get out of this gear for more than a few minutes in the dugout. A hot shower and dinner sounded good to me right then.
Cobb, one of my brothers, was on the mound working himself toward a no-hitter. It was a big deal and I just wanted to get him over the finish line. His pitch count was low enough that he could get through this inning and the next. Fuck. He might not need to pitch the next inning if we stayed ahead on the scoreboard.
The entire team was working their asses off to ensure Cobb got the no-hitter today. On the rare occasion that someone hit the ball, the rest of the team made sure the batter didn’t get on base. Hell, no one has even made it to base on an error and Cobb hasn’t walked anyone. This could actually be a perfect fucking game since no one on the other team has made it to base. No walks. No errors. No nothing.
Which made me proud as hell.
It was the top of the eight and the batter was up. He was good, but Cobb was better, I believed. My kid brother, just twenty-one years old, had so much damn talent that it was kind of disgusting. We all played. We all played at the top of the game, but fuck. If he kept this up, he’d be better than us all.
I put up the call sign and Cobb took it. I knew what this guy liked to chase. He’d been around long enough.
And chase the pitch he did.
He tipped off back behind the plate. If I could catch this, Cobb wouldn’t have to worry about it. I flipped my mask off and went running toward the visitor’s dugout until I slid into the railing then hit the ground, but I caught the ball and that was what mattered.
After tossing the ump the ball to show that I had in fact caught it and the batter was out, I took a step. Pain shot up my leg and around my knee making me crumble to the ground. Fuck. That hurt.
All of a sudden, I was surrounded by brothers.
“You all right?” Urban asked. Given that he played first base, he would’ve been closest to me.
Cobb was next, then Silas, followed by his best friend, Jenner Greene. Cobb waved at the dugout and all of a sudden, the trainer was out there.
“You all right?” He dropped to the ground next to me.
“My fucking knee,” I said through clenched teeth, both playing off the pain and pissed that I’d gotten hurt. I never got hurt. I was literally known for it.
I kept myself in shape. Made sure I ate right and exercised. All the shit you were supposed to do to stay in top shape, but fuck.
“Can you walk?” the trainer asked.
I shook my head.
“I’ll call for a—”
“We can get him off,” Silas said, cutting him off. Not a single player wanted to be carted off the field by paramedics or even in that stupid, little cart that they had. My brothers would get me there.
Together, the three of them lifted me as pain ripped through my knee. I didn’t even try to put weight on it. That would’ve sent me tumbling to the ground again. No, thanks.
Cobb slid under one arm and Silas under the other before slowly walking me back to the dugout. Urban was behind me with my catcher’s mitt and probably my face mask. Jenner would have to go back out onto the field.
When I got to the steps, the backup catcher, Sanchez, was already running out to take a few practice throws from Cobb. Fuck. This better not have screwed up his no-hitter.
The guys were able to let me go when I got to the steps because I had the railings to use, so they went back to the game, too. It’s not like they had a choice and I didn’t need their help anymore.
“You good?” the manager asked.
“Fantastic,” I said through clenched teeth.
There was no way for me to know what was going on, given that I wasn’t a doctor. It hurt like hell, that was clear, but sometimes shit hurt. A sprain can hurt worse than a break but take less time to heal. Who knows?
As soon as I hobbled through the doorway to the clubhouse, there was a wheelchair waiting for me. Everyone else would have to go back to finish the game. The guy—whose name I didn’t know—raised the leg thing on the chair so that I wouldn’t have to straighten my knee and as soon as I was in the seat, he was hurrying me off. The team doctor was probably waiting to check me out.
Once I was in the treatment room, I got myself up onto the table and laid down because having my knee straight was what felt the best. The team doctor—“Dr. Harry” was what we called him—came in right after.
“I watched a replay of what happened. It looked like your knee twisted before you hit the railing,” he said, his face blank as if he didn’t want to hint to how bad it could be. “How’s the pain?”
I shrugged. “It hurt a lot at first, but lying here, it’s not bad at all. Just sore.”
“Well, let’s take a look.”
Dr. Harry was a fit man in his fifties and had been with the team for years. Longer than me. He didn’t use gentle hands as he went up my knee and calf while I still had my baseball pants on. Then he said they needed to come off. He cut them instead of making me try to shimmy out of them. I had one bare leg in the wind.
“All right,” he said when he was done. “I think it’s just a strain. We’ll get an X-ray to make sure nothing’s broken, but I don’t see a need for an MRI.”
“How long am I out?” Because there was no question that I was out.
“You’re lucky. You’re going into the All-Star break. This is pretty mild and you’re in top shape, so I’d say five to seven days.”
Which meant no All-Star Game. That sucked. The All-Star Game had meaning because whichever team won got home-field advantage for the World Series, so if the American League won, then the American League got the advantage, but I was more irritated because it was a fun game and all of my brothers would be playing.
“Five days?” I asked, leaving out the to seven part he’d said. If five days was possible then I’d be back in five days.
Doc nodded. “If you rest and follow my orders. You need to keep the weight off it. Which means crutches. I’ll put you in a knee immobilizer that I’d like you to wear twenty-four hours a day except when you’re in the shower. Maybe your brothers can help you.”
I snorted. Not a chance. “My brothers aren’t showering me. I’ve got it. I’ll be careful.”
Doctor Harry went through the instructions, which I listened to, though they’d be hard for me to follow. I almost never got injured. I’d never had to be on the disabled list before—not for an injury. When I’d first started playing, I’d needed my appendix out, which had put me on the list for a while, but that was it. If any medical thing could’ve waited until the off-season, it had.
I wasn’t supposed to get injured, but I’d just had to go after that ball aggressively to make sure Cobb got his no-hitter. I was his big brother and his catcher. It had been my job to make sure that happened. Dad had put the most pressure on me to make it to the pros to set an example for my brothers, so I’d worked out. Stayed in top shape. Barely let my guard down.
If I couldn’t play, then what the hell was I supposed to do? I controlled myself every fucking day. How could I deal with being out of control?
I was the strong one. The steady one. The one all of my brothers and Camden were supposed to look up to. Now I couldn’t take a couple of steps without crutches? What if I lost my edge in five days?
Fuck. This was messing with my head.
I was still there, in that room with one leg in baseball pants and one not, when my three brothers came through the door.
“What’s the deal?” Silas asked. He was the closest in age to me, so we’d played together the most. Then Urban and Cobb—in that order—had come along. Cobb was the only one I hadn’t ever played on the same team with until he’d gotten traded here.
The four of us looked like brothers. As if someone looked at us, they’d know without our telling them. Our heights were within an inch of each other. We were built somewhat the same though I had broader shoulders and Cobb, being a pitcher, had a bit more lean muscle. And we’d all come into the world with the dark hair and brown eyes.
“Just a muscle strain,” I told him, as if saying the words wasn’t stabbing a knife into my stomach.
“How long are you out?” Urban asked. The three of them stood in front of me, almost like in a line, each with their arms crossed over their chests.
“Just five days. Should only miss the All-Star Game.”
Cobb reached out and put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “You could’ve let that ball go.”
I scowled. “And if that guy hit a home run on the next pitch?”
He shook his head. “He couldn’t have. I would’ve struck him out.”
I snorted. “You think so.”
Because the ball had popped back, if it had landed, it just would’ve been his second strike. One more and he would’ve been out, but I’d wanted the guaranteed out to end the inning.
“Did you get the no-no?” I asked him.
He grinned down at me. “Sure did.”
“Perfect game, actually,” Urban added. “Not a single person on base.”
That would have to mean this was worth it.
“Well, five days sucks,” Silas told me, but then he cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Did the doctor actually say five days?”
I rolled my eyes. “He said five to seven . Whatever. I’ll make sure it’s five.”
Silas chuckled. “I’m sure you will.” None of us were the best at listening to what we were told to do.
“I don’t know.” Urban stroked his chin like he was coming up with a devious plan when in reality, it usually meant that I wasn’t going to like what he had to say. “Five days off wouldn’t be bad. I can think of some things to occupy my time.”
Cobb gave him a shove. “You mean Everly could occupy your time.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snapped, then I instantly regretted it. “You know as well as I do that five days off for any of you would fucking suck except maybe Cobb because he only pitches every five games.”
“Ouch,” Cobb muttered, but he did it through a grin.
I shook my head. “That’s not even a jab. It’s a fact. Now get the fuck out of here and go shower.”
The conversation needed to end, even though they were only trying to lighten the mood.
Doc came back in with the crutches and made sure I knew how to put the immobilizer on. Then I was good to go. Hopefully, most of the guys would be done showering so I could take one before I went home. I didn’t want to put clothes on while I was still gross and sweaty.
An hour later, after a quick shower, and a call from my mother, I dropped onto my couch and put my foot on the coffee table because I was supposed to elevate it as much as possible. When that didn’t feel right, I turned on the couch and put a pillow under my knee.
Much better. It was like I’d needed that soft support.
And of course, right when I was finally relaxed, someone rang the fucking bell. Which meant I had to get up and grab the crutches to answer it.
Camden stood on the other side with a bag in her hand. I’d wondered where she’d been after the game because it wasn’t like her to not come check on one of us when something happened.
“I brought tacos,” she told me. I hopped back two steps so that she could come inside.
“I don’t usually eat tacos,” I said at her back. Normally, I tried to eat healthy and most of the time succeeded.
“Yeah, but today, I think, calls for tacos.” She dropped the bag on the table. “Sit down. Do you want anything to drink?”
I sighed. Given that it was my house, I should’ve offered to get her a drink, but how the hell would I carry it? “Yeah. Water.”
She gave me a thumbs-up then headed to my kitchen while I got comfortable on the couch again. When she came back, she had a glass of water for me and a diet pop for herself. That was why I kept it here. I’d have one once in a while, but for the most part, I drank water or coffee.
“What’re you doing here?” I asked after she’d given me the glass of water.
“I’m here to make sure you don’t wallow.”
I snorted. “Fuck that. I’m not going to wallow. I’m going to start the rehab exercises tomorrow.”
She lowered her brows as she looked at me. “When did the doctor say to start them?”
Well, fuck. She had me there. “Two days.”
“You guys are so dumb.” She threw her hands in the air in frustration. “Don’t listen to the doctor. Do what you want. Absolutely don’t ask for help. Fuck random women when one who loves you is right in front of your face.”
“Whoa.” I snapped my head back. “That last one seems oddly specific. Care to elaborate?”
She let out a long sigh. “No. I’m just saying baseball players are dumb. You don’t listen.”
I chuckled. Most of us actually weren’t dumb, but I did see what she was saying. “Fine. I’ll start the day after tomorrow. Now hand me a taco.” Because I was, in fact, starving, but I’d circle back to that last thing she’d said. She wasn’t talking about me because she had no idea who I fucked or when and there was no one in front of my face I was ignoring.
Maybe Cobb would know. He was closest in age to Camden, which meant they’d gone to school together. I’d already been out of the house well before she’d started high school. Yeah. He’d be the one to know.
It wasn’t easy maneuvering without spilling anything. I had to move my glass from where I’d put it between my legs because that wasn’t working, but reaching things made me move in a way that hurt.
“You’re not even going to ask for help, are you?” she asked as she watched me struggle.
“I don’t need help.” I leaned further to reach the coffee table.
“You know the entire family is going to Cincinnati the day after tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah. And?” I didn’t see the point she was trying to make.
“There won’t be anyone around to help you. Even the girlfriends are going.”
As if I’d ask Amity, Everly, or Monroe—the latter two I barely knew—to help me. No. I had this. As the oldest, I was always expected to handle my shit with little-to-no help. That wouldn’t change now.
“Well, I’m going to make sure you have help,” she said as she rolled up a paper from her first taco.
“And how are you going to do that? Hire me a nurse?” I raised an eyebrow that made her roll her eyes and it took everything for me not to laugh. Making her roll her eyes when she thought I was talking about something sexual was a favorite past time of mine. “Seriously, Camden. I’m good.”
“No. I’m going to ask Harlowe if she has time to help you.”
My stomach clenched tightly. I’d rather have a stranger.
“No fucking way, Camden.”
“She’s my best friend. You know her. It’s perfect.” She took a bite from a second taco, though I’d suddenly lost my appetite. “She’ll help even if she finds all of you as repugnant as I do.”
“I don’t want her here, Camden,” I told her, hoping that my voice was as convincing as it needed to be.
Having Harlowe here in my space was asking for trouble.
When we’d been younger, Harlowe had just been the girl with copper hair who had always been around my little sister. They’d been like sisters, still were, but me being so much older, I hadn’t paid attention. She’d come to my games with Camden to keep my sister occupied.
At some point, that had changed. She’d filled out in all the right places, creating this curvy, copper-haired woman who most men could only dream about. Her eyes were this magical mix of brown, green, and gold that looked more light gold than anything. I supposed they were hazel, but fuck, they were beautiful.
And this was why I couldn’t have her in my house helping me out. It was one thing to be together in a group, but there’d be no way to keep from interacting with her. She was my sister’s best friend and we all knew that Camden had a chip on her shoulder about people pretending to be her friend to get to one of us. It’d happened with Cobb and Urban when they’d been in school and none of us wanted to hurt our little sister.
Camden set her taco down and folded her hands in front of her. “All right. Then I won’t go to Cincinnati.”
“Absolutely not.” As much as Camden disliked baseball players who weren’t her brothers, she loved baseball as much as the rest of us. “I’m a grown man, little sister. I can take care of myself.”
She snorted. “And hurt yourself onto a longer stint on the disabled list. No way. You need to rest and not overdo it. You can’t promise to not overdo it. Remember when you had your appendix out? You wanted to get on the field two days later.”
She wasn’t wrong. “I was fine,” I countered.
“Were not. You would’ve squatted down and ripped your incision open, then your guts would’ve fallen out.”
Now, that probably wouldn’t have happened, but I saw her point. “Fine,” I snapped. She wasn’t going to give in and once she was gone, I could send Harlowe on her way.
It’d be fine. Camden would be mad, but it’d be after the fact so it’d end this conversation we were having and I’d deal with it later.
“Thank you,” she said curtly.
We went back to eating our tacos and discussing the game. Cobb had gotten his no-hitter—perfect game at that—so at least my injury had an upside.
Once she left, I allowed myself to think about the real reason I didn’t want Harlowe here helping me.
It was because I’d never wanted my hands on a woman more in my life and there was no way I could satisfy that urge. As she was my sister’s best friend, it was a line none of us could cross, given Camden’s past problems. She always said that Harlowe was the one person she could trust and it seemed Harlowe agreed.
Not only was she Camden’s best friend, but she also showed zero interest in any of us.
But the last thing I needed was for Harlowe to be here. Not because I couldn’t trust her to do what Camden wanted. She could be trusted with everything since she’d basically been part of the family so long.
But she also saw through all the bullshit and there was the idea that if given enough time with me, she’d see through me too.
And that scared the shit out of me.