49. Lance
forty-nine
Lance
Present
Reed swings and misses, the ball dropping low at the last second.
The count is now one ball, two strikes.
Fuck.
We’re in New York, playing against the Hawks for the last time before the playoffs begin. Unfortunately, we are down by one in the top of the ninth with one out. There’s no fucking way I want to lose to these dipshits tonight.
Bat in hand, I drift back toward the dugout to hear Cam whistle. “He’s going to be pissed he fell for that splitter.”
“What’s good?” I ask my buddy who is notorious for watching fellow pitchers and reading their tells and pitch patterns.
Cam rubs his chin, his eyes shifting as he thinks. “If Valdez throws a knuckleball next, then I think I’ve got the pattern. You just got to pray they don’t pull him for someone in the bullpen.”
I nod, watching Valdez, New York’s pitcher, wind up. Just as Cam predicted, he throws a knuckleball that goes high and outside. Ball two.
Reed steps out of the box and looks toward the dugout. Cam makes a few hand signals at him, and he nods in understanding.
“Reed is going to smash this, so when you’re up, expect a low fastball. So, pull that fuck out of the ball and get on base. Romero will be right behind you.”
The crack of the bat draws my attention, and I turn just in time to see Reed take off and the ball drive over the third baseman and straight down the line, staying fair. The left fielder snags the ball and throws it to second, too late to catch Reed as he makes it safely to second base with ease.
“Let’s fucking go, Taylor,” Nico shouts as he steps on deck, and I make my way to the batter’s box.
My gut twinges in anticipation as I step into the box.
Low fastball, I repeat, thinking about my next steps.
Instead of sitting back, I move an inch forward and load my weight onto my back leg. The pitcher does his double-pump windup and fires the ball as I inhale. Sure enough, the ball flies at me like a bat out of hell.
I exhale and start my swing. Stepping forward, I rotate my hips and core and extend my arms in a smooth and simultaneous motion. My bat travels up in a perfect arc, hitting the ball with the right amount of torque. A resounding crack fills the stadium, and my forearms vibrate from the impact.
As I take off toward first base, I watch the ball sail dead center and hit the outfield wall. I pump my legs fast, taking second as Reed scores, tying the game.
I point at Cam and wink, pulling back and letting loose an invisible arrow. A move I’ve done before when he feeds me intel. He laughs, tipping his hat to me.
The New York fans are not happy. They boo and jeer, and the sound only gets louder as Nico steps into the batter’s box.
My friend has the thickest skin of anyone I’ve ever met.
He flashes the pitcher a cocky smirk as he twirls his bat all fancy-like and digs his foot into the dirt, setting up his stance.
Nico is arrogant as fuck on the field, and I love it. He was the missing piece to the Evaders’ puzzle, and now we are unstoppable.
The air buzzes, and I can feel the change.
I take a huge lead, watching the pitcher wind up and throw the ball.
It curves left, but that’s exactly what Nico loves.
He swings and hits the ball perfectly, sending it sailing over the right-field fence.
Nico drops his bat like a mic and casually jogs to first base, tracing the S in Evaders on his chest—his new signature move.
With a grin, I pump my fist in the air and jog around the bases, waiting for Nico to cross home behind me.
“Fuck yeah, Romero. That’s how you show these guys who’s boss.” I shout over the crowd.
We high-five, then head back to the visitor’s dugout, where the rest of our team slap our backs in congratulations. After placing my helmet on the shelf, I put my hat back on and join the guys along the fence, taking the spot beside Blake. Per usual, he’s chomping on sunflower seeds.
“Killer double, Cap.”
“Thanks.” I chuckle at the endearment, not bothering to correct him.
I’m in too good a mood to care. Not only are we winning, but our team also leads the division, and I’m in a great place personally.
I have Gwen, and I’m happy. Like, ridiculously happy. This past week, she moved all the stuff from her apartment over to my place.
Our place. It feels good to say that officially.
There’s just one problem. Gwen mentioned decorating the extra bedroom so her friend, Jenna, could visit, and I had to come up with a distraction real fast. Which is why she’s here in New York for this series. She can travel with me and visit her friend.
Two birds. One stone.
I just need to figure out a good time to confess.
“Now that was a game,” Blake crows, strutting into the locker room like he’s King of the Hill.
We pulled off an 8–5 win over the Hawks. After Nico’s home run, Heath stepped to the plate and smacked one out of the park as well. It’s the first time he and Nico have hit a home run in the same game. Sounds silly, but we baseball players love stats like that.
There’s nothing like beating a rival team.
“We are going out tonight,” Blake shouts, pulling me from my thoughts. He’s dancing on one of the low tables in the center of the locker room.
The rest of us groan in response. I’m surprised even Reed doesn’t seem interested in going out tonight. He’s staring at his phone, with a frown on his face.
My phone rings from my bag, stopping me from asking my friend what’s going on.
I rear back, surprised to see my mother’s number flashing on the screen. Accepting the call, I lift my phone to my ear. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”
“Hey, kiddo.” Blood roars in my ears at the sound of her hoarse voice. It sounds like she’s been crying. “I’m so sorry to call, but there was an accident and your father is in the hospital.” She sniffles.
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“Why didn’t you call sooner?”
“You had a game.”
“If something happens, you call me. It doesn’t matter when. Okay?”
“Okay.” She sniffles.
“Please tell me what happened.”
Mom sighs, heavy and exhausted. “He was trying to fix the roof on his own. I told him not to and to just call someone for help. But you know how stubborn he is. I came home from lunch and found him.”
Phone to my ear, I jump up and start tugging off my uniform and pulling on my slacks. “Which hospital?”
“Northwest Medical Center. We are in the ICU.”
ICU? What the hell happened?
“I’ll be right there.” I hang up my phone and chuck it into my bag. Looking up, I find my team watching me with concern in their eyes. The words are hard to get out. “I’ve gotta go. It’s my dad. He’s in the hospital.”
“Shit, is he okay?” Heath asks.
I shake my head. “No. I need to go. Be there for my mom.”
“Let us know if you need anything,” Nico adds.
Reaching up with my fist, I rub at the tightness growing in my rib cage. “Thanks. I’ll check in later. Think you can hold off Anson until I know more?”
“No problem. We got you,” Heath says, pulling me in for a hug. “Go be with your family. We’ll be here when you get back.”
Cam circles us with his arms. “Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?”
“I’m sure. I don’t even know what’s wrong. Just that he’s there. But …” My sentence falls off, not wanting to say what I fear aloud. It’s then when Reed and Blake join the circle, joining our bro hug. “What are you two doing?”
“I never miss a cuddle huddle,” Blake chirps.
“You’re such a dumbass,” Reed groans. I can picture him rolling his eyes.
“You’re all dumbasses,” Nico snaps, breaking up the group hug.
“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you,” Blake teases as Nico scowls and lifts two middle fingers in the air at him.
“I love you guys, but I don’t have time for this. I’ll text you later.” I grab my hat, slipping it over my head, and my bag, throwing it over my shoulder, and rush out of the stadium. With stealth, I make it out of the stadium and into a cab without the management team seeing me.
In the back of the cab, I dig my phone out of my bag and call Gwen.
“Why hello, Husband,” she croons. Any other time that voice would do it for me, but right now the tornado of emotions spinning through me at Category 5 speeds.
“Gwen,” I choke out.
“Lance? What’s going on?”
“It’s my dad.”