Chapter Eleven
Ashton was no stranger to sleepless nights.
When she’d arrived in Japan for her first season with the ball club, her biorhythms had been so out of whack she got no more than four hours of sleep the first few days.
Of course, that came in handy when she’d decided to pursue her doctorate in sport psychology and had to stay up until the wee hours of the morning to take her online courses.
There had been a valid, physical reason to lose sleep.
But last night was the first time she didn’t sleep due to a crisis of conscience.
And to Ashton’s surprise, the crisis wasn’t over Razor.
Did Razor overstep when she filed charges without the victim’s permission?
Absolutely. Ashton didn’t argue that point.
But she hadn’t been seeking attention or notoriety.
She genuinely cared about her teammates.
Only her desire to help caused her to take matters into her own hands.
No, the only thing Razor was guilty of was a compulsion to right a wrong.
If there was one person Ashton had a crisis about, it was Nancy.
If she had reported Razor’s grievance, as she said, then there would’ve been a record of the report.
However, Ashton’s mind couldn’t connect the pieces, and she wondered if Nancy did as she claimed.
When Razor pressed charges, was it the first time anyone had heard of Gary’s abusive behavior?
It seemed that way. How could Nancy praise Razor’s talent and stand by her when she filed the grievance, then look on and not intervene as Razor was scapegoated once the charges against Gary dissolved?
By the time they arrived at the complex, Ashton hadn’t come to any conclusions, nor could she get Nancy one-on-one to find the answers, so she decided to back-burner the whole thing until they were back in Jonesboro, and focus on the last day of tournament.
As soon as the team started working out, she saw the fruits of Razor’s field trip on the players’ faces. There was a renewed passion, a positive shift in the way they warmed up and took batting practice. They were determined to leave that tournament with a couple of wins under their belts.
Today is our day.
“What makes you say that?”
Ashton startled at Nancy’s voice next to her ear. “What?”
“You said today is our day. Why do you think that?”
Ashton didn’t realize she’d said the words out loud, and she did her best not to tense at Nancy’s sudden proximity. How long had she been standing there?
“I don’t know. The energy feels different. Don’t you think?”
Nancy shrugged and didn’t seem to share her optimism. “I guess so. Seems a little off-putting if you ask me.”
Ashton turned to face her. “Why do you say that?”
“Yesterday they were all doom and gloom, and today they seem glad to be in an oh–four hole to start the season.”
“They’re not glad,” Ashton argued. “They’re optimistic.”
“Wish they’d spread it around. I sure could use some,” Nancy mumbled.
This negative attitude struck Ashton as odd.
“I never knew you to be so pessimistic,” she said. “You’re usually the one telling the players to flush the past and look to the future.”
Nancy scoffed. “That was before I started a season oh and four.”
Ashton became even more confused. This wasn’t her friend and mentor.
This was someone more jaded, and Ashton didn’t know why.
She turned back to watch the team go through their practice, not wanting anything to bring her good mood down more and found Razor and Harper going over the proper batting stance.
The scene was a balm to Ashton’s troubled mind.
They were laughing at something Harper said, probably about last night’s contest, and they were relaxed.
Loose. Smiles as wide as their faces would allow.
Ashton smiled herself, and enjoyed observing the lesson play out.
When Razor moved behind Harper and laid a steady hand on her shoulder, pulling it back along with the bat, Ashton’s mind conjured a similar image with her in Harper’s position, and Razor’s hands being more sensual as they moved across her collarbone.
“For someone who turned down coaching, she does a lot of it,” Nancy said.
Ashton released a slow breath. “Well, if there’s one thing she does know well, it’s hitting. She does own a batting cage, after all.”
Nancy snickered. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Maybe next year, if she has the time, we can ask her to be on staff as the hitting coach.”
Ashton turned with a raised eyebrow.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Ashton responded. “I’m just surprised you’re suggesting such a thing. I thought you didn’t want her to be a coach.”
Nancy’s dramatic eye roll felt forced when she said, “I never said I didn’t want her on staff. I was surprised by Courtney’s decision was all. How many times do I have to explain that?”
“Okay, okay,” Ashton said, her hands up in surrender. “For the record, I agree with you. After what I witnessed last night, her hand-eye coordination is stellar, and she’d make a great hitting coach.”
Nancy frowned. “What happened last night?”
“Oh, you know. Razor and I took the team over to Dave & Buster’s for team bonding activities.”
Nancy’s lips pinched. “You did what?”
“You didn’t know?”
“Of course not. If I had, I would’ve said no.”
Ashton caught Razor’s eye. Razor gave a thumbs-up with a questioning look, but Ashton shook her head and focused on Nancy.
“Courtney gave us permission. I’m sorry you’re upset, but it was a last-minute thing, and we were back in time for curfew.”
“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say…”
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Razor’s voice boomed behind Ashton, confident and certain, sending the familiar rush of heat to Ashton’s core.
“What is this about you leaving the hotel with the team last night?” Nancy said, a tinge of anger coloring her tone.
Razor didn’t miss a beat and replied, “Yes, Ashton and I took them to Dave & Buster’s to blow off some steam and get to know one another better.”
Nancy shook her head and rubbed her brow, hard. “Razor, I understand your heart was in the right place, but you can’t just take off whenever you feel like it. What if there had been an accident? What if you or one of the girls ended up in the hospital, or worse, kidnapped?”
Ashton looked at Razor with matching wide eyes. Best not to mention what happened with Emery and Jamie.
“Nancy, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Razor said. “I got permission from Courtney. I swear.”
“That’s all true.”
Everyone turned and saw Courtney in all her authoritative glory.
“Razor asked me if she could take the team out after dinner. Ashton volunteered to supervise, so I felt no need to attend. My only stipulation was they had to be back in time for bed check, which they were.”
The ire drained from Nancy’s body. Her shoulders sagged, and she nodded her acceptance.
“Forgive me, Ashton,” she said, then turned to Razor. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. I should’ve known that you’d never put this team in any danger.”
Razor’s eyes held apprehension before nodding. “It’s okay. I guess we both need to learn who the other is again. Right, Coach Inglewood?”
Razor held out her hand. Nancy took it, but it was a limp handshake. “I guess we do,” she agreed. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to head to the field.”
“Are you okay?” Razor asked Ashton after Nancy exited the building. She reached to take Ashton’s hand but pulled back at the last minute. She obviously remembered what was said before she left last night.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” Ashton lied.
“Okay, ladies,” Courtney called, “it’s game day. Let’s get out there and show them who the real Hornets are.”
Everyone packed up their gear and filed out the door while Ashton shoved her water bottle back into her travel bag, surprised to see Razor waiting for her.
“Seriously, are you all right?”
They were far enough back from the group that Ashton felt she could be honest.
“Yeah, just, was it just me, or did that dustup with Nancy feel a little weird?”
“Like she was saying the right words but didn’t have the emotion you’d expect behind them?” Razor said.
“Exactly,” Ashton said.
“Yeah, that was a little weird. Usually, Nancy has no problem saying what’s on her mind.”
“If that’s so, then why did she fight them this time.”
Razor shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe she is trying to change.”
“Or maybe…she’s like you,” Ashton said.
“Me?” Razor looked unconvinced.
“Yeah. Trying to atone for a wrong.”
Razor exhaled loudly. “Maybe you’re on to something there.”
* * *
Razor wasn’t so egotistical to think her method of bringing a group of talented, diverse women together would work flawlessly, fresh out of the box.
She stayed realistic in her expectations, hopeful their time at D&B had sunk in, but understanding more work was needed to get them to the championship.
But the team did seem remarkably resilient.
By the seventh inning of game one, they looked like a well-oiled machine.
Emery communicated with Sabrina on grounders.
Each was pivotal in executing two stellar double plays to get them out of the third and fourth innings.
The only reason the score was 7–5 was because the opposing team employed the hit-’em-where-they-ain’t method and closed the gap.
They were two outs away from their first win with the cleanup hitter stepping into the box. She’d been a hard out all day, and Razor asked for time to talk to Summer.
“How you doing, Ace?”
Earlier in the tournament, if Razor had even taken a step toward the circle, Summer would’ve waved her back with a scowl so deep Razor worried it’d imprint on her face.
But since their revelations to each other, there was an air of respect from Summer that allowed all the previous tension to fade away like it never existed.
“I feel fine, but I really want to get this batter out. Now.”
Razor looked back at said batter, who was waiting off to the side for them to finish.
“She would definitely be a good notch on your belt, but she’s been on your pitches all day. I’m guessing you won’t be satisfied with intentionally walking her.”
Summer shook her head. “Hell no. I want her to know she can’t beat me. But I don’t know if Coach Inglewood will let me with all the changeups she’s calling.”
Razor turned and saw a very annoyed Nancy waiting for her to finish.
“I can understand your frustration, but we have to follow her calls. Try putting it in a different spot to get a grounder or a pop fly. That’ll work just as well.”
Summer nodded her agreement, and Razor headed back to home.
When the pitch came, Summer had taken Razor’s advice.
The ball curved inward, but not far enough, and it sailed over the heart of the plate.
The batter didn’t miss, launching the ball to straightaway center and over the fence.
As the batter trotted around the bases, Razor took a fresh ball from the umpire and returned to the circle.
“Maybe don’t put it in that spot,” Razor quipped. She was rewarded with a raised eyebrow and laughed. “Look on the bright side—at least no one was on base, and we’re still ahead.”
Summer’s lips twitched as she grabbed the ball. “You’re right. Let’s end this thing now.”
Razor smiled all the way back to home plate.
A week ago, if she’d made sarcastic comments like that to Summer, she would’ve gotten her head bitten off.
She groaned when Nancy sent in the sign for another changeup.
This time, Summer put it exactly where it needed to be to jam the batter.
The ball rolled to Sabrina, who scooped it up bare-handed and fired to first to record the final out of the game, securing the first win of the Hornets’ season.