Chapter Thirty-four
The dew glistened on the grass as the sun peeked over the hills, the perfect time of day. Razor breathed in the smell of sweet grass. The end of the season had arrived. With any luck, they’d be playing a few more weeks. Whatever the outcome, she was content.
They’d prepped all week. Extra strength and conditioning regimens, hours of film study, and full play scenarios filled the hours vacated by their studies.
They even found themselves at Slugfest for extra batting practice after the university security guards complained about the late hours.
It was grueling, exhausting, stressful, but Razor had cherished every moment and made sure to take a step back to watch what she’d help build.
Ashton was right. This was no longer a team that was a guaranteed win on their opponents’ schedules.
They were real contenders. One day, they would be champions. Razor hoped she’d be there to see it.
She stood at home plate and admired the pristine, untouched field. The grass was lush, the dirt raked smooth. No chalk lines, no pitcher’s circle. She squatted and picked up a handful of the rich, brown clay and let the particles sift through her fingers. She was going to miss this.
A commotion caught her attention, and she saw her team coming down the left field ramp. Judging by the yawns and scowls, they weren’t too happy being summoned so early in the morning.
“Is there a reason you couldn’t wait until a more reasonable time to get us all together?” Emery rubbed a tired hand over her face.
“Oh, please, Em. You were probably up putting finishing touches on your Comic-Con costume,” Sabrina said.
“I don’t work on costumes before game day.” Sabrina gave her a disbelieving glare. “I don’t work late on costumes before game day,” Emery qualified.
Razor smiled. She was definitely going to miss this.
“I apologize for the early call, but I promise it’ll be worth it.”
Everyone looked unconvinced, except for Harper and Summer, who huddled close. Razor felt a swell of emotion. This was her team, her family, and one deep breath later, she fulfilled her promise to them.
“The day of open tryouts my first year at San Diego State, I was pumped.” She paused, smiling at the memory.
“I’d impressed the coaches with my defense, so all I had to do was bring the same intensity on offense.
I walked up to the plate, focused, but was awestruck by the pitcher.
Blond hair, hazel eyes. Very intense. I’d noticed her the night before at a team barbecue, and being pretty cocky, I’d asked her out. ”
“Lemme guess. She said no?” Tori asked.
Razor snapped her fingers. “Bingo. She said she had a girlfriend, but she decided to add insult to injury and announce in front of everyone that she didn’t date teenagers.”
“Ouch,” Emery teased.
“When I saw she was pitching, I was still reeling from the rejection and wanted to show her up.”
“And did you?” Harper asked.
“I did.”
“Was the girl impressed?”
“Not in the least. If anything, I pissed her off more.”
Emery laughed. “Oh man, what did she do?”
“She pulled out her secret weapon. An unhittable curveball.”
“Talk about a hit to your ego,” Tori said.
“You’re telling me. Suddenly the tables had turned, and she was the smug one.”
“Oh no. What happened?” Summer asked.
“I called her out. Said something like I dare you to throw it one more time.”
“And did she?” Emery asked.
Razor nodded. “And I was able to hit it, a line drive straight up the middle.”
“You didn’t,” Harper said.
“Yep,” Razor replied. “I hit a line drive right to her head.”
“Oh man,” Sabrina said. “Did she get out of the way?”
Razor shook her head and brushed a hand across her scalp. “The ball grazed her hairline, leaving a deep cut on her forehead. She was okay, thank God, but she wouldn’t give me the time of day after that. Wouldn’t even let me apologize until she left a year later.”
“I can’t believe you thought she’d go out with you after you nearly took her head off,” Tori exclaimed.
“I can’t believe you made the team after nearly taking her head off,” Harper said.
“Believe me, no one was more surprised than me. Anyway, as soon as I saw my name on the roster, everyone congratulated me…as Razor.”
“Why Razor?” Summer asked.
“Because when they cleaned up the pitcher’s wound it looked like she’d been sliced by a razor blade.”
Everyone clapped and laughed, but Harper looked confused. “Why are you telling us this? You said we had to win the championship, and we haven’t.”
Razor looked at all of them and smiled.
“I’m telling you because I realized you’ve already won.”
“What do you mean?” Summer asked.
“Softball is about more than just wins and losses. It’s about winning in your mind and in your heart.
Even if the scoreboard shows a loss, if you give everything you have, then you win every time.
” She sighed and willed the tears to stay at bay.
“Winning a championship is great, I won’t lie about that.
But that’s one day in a string of important days.
What you’ve accomplished here, with each other—that will stay with you forever.
I’m proud of all of you. I’m happy to call you my teammates.
More importantly, I’m happy to call you my family. ”
“Aw man”—Emery sounded choked up—“I didn’t know this was going to be emotional.” She angrily swiped at a tear, then pulled Razor into a hug. The others followed and wrapped their arms around each other. Razor put her head on someone’s shoulder and basked in the happiness.
“Okay, okay, let’s break this up,” Summer ordered. “Let’s get out of here and get some sleep. We have a series to play, and I for one am not ready for this season to be over.”
“So, what ever happened to the girl?” Emery asked as they walked off the field.
“Don’t know. I heard she went to Japan and became a hotshot pitcher.”
* * *
Razor watched Summer’s release. The ball was drifting to the outer part of the plate. Calmly, she raised her glove and curved it around with barely any movement.
“Strike three! Batter’s out.”
Razor sighed in relief and tossed the ball back to the circle. She caught Summer as they ran into the dugout and gave her a hearty pat on the back.
“Way to bounce back from that home run.”
“I should’ve gotten more spin on the ball—then it wouldn’t have drifted back over the plate.”
“Hey,” Razor said, “that was a great pitch, and you did everything right. She just muscled it out. We’ll get it back.”
“Will we?”
Razor stopped. The eleventh hour had arrived.
Bottom of the seventh in the first game of a three-game series, a series they had to sweep to make the postseason.
The only difference between them and the Dragons was the home run they just hit.
Now the Hornets were three strikes away from their season being over.
“Yes, we will,” she said.
Summer dropped her glove on the bench and stepped up to the ledge. She’d done all she could.
Razor sat down and unsnapped her gear one piece at a time, getting ready to bat fourth.
She slipped off her shin guards and laid them on the bench.
Next she removed her chest guard. She placed each piece precisely alongside the others, something she’d never done before.
Lastly, she set down her glove. Her mother’s words stared back at her.
She looked at them reverently and placed her hand over them.
She looked up at the girls standing along the ledge and smiled.
They were going to be okay. She looked over and saw Courtney and Ashton strategizing.
They made a great coaching duo. Maybe they’d welcome one more.
She removed her hand slowly from the stitching, feeling every ridge, knowing she, too, would be okay.
A round of cheers went up as Sabrina ripped the ball through the infield out to center. Razor grabbed her bat and helmet, fastened her batting gloves, and stepped up to the edge of the dugout.
“Strike three!”
Disgruntled fans made their opinions on the strike zone clear as Tori marched back to the dugout. She threw her bat into the cubby and ripped her gloves off in frustration.
Razor grabbed her arm gently. “Hey, settle down. Tell me what happened.”
“She got me on a curveball. Sneaky little thing.”
“Thanks for the input.”
Razor patted her shoulder then entered the on-deck circle.
Emery was next. She worked the count until it was even at two balls, two strikes.
The next pitch dipped toward the left, and then it cut sharply back toward the plate.
She tapped it to third base and was out by a mile, but she’d advanced Sabrina to second.
Two outs, one on, and Razor was up. She rolled her neck and strolled toward the batter’s box.
Stay within yourself.
The pitcher bent deep into a crouch and released the ball. The seams spun side to side. A rise ball, but Razor wasn’t hunting a rise.
“Strike one!”
She stepped out and nodded, acknowledging the call. She reset her mind as she stepped back in. This time, the seams rotated up and down and sailed wide of the plate.
“Ball.”
A rise ball and a fastball. This next one should be her curveball.
Razor positioned herself closer to the plate. The ball soared through the air, but it arced outward and spun slower.
There it is.
She tightened her grip, settled her weight on her back leg, and kept her head down. The ball began to curve back toward home. Razor planted her front foot on the ground and shifted all her weight forward. The sound was perfect, ball and bat in perfect sync.
Razor watched the ball sail to straightaway center. She jogged toward first and turned toward second. That’s when she noticed the center fielder sprinting toward the wall. The wind was blowing in, and the ball started to lose momentum. Razor’s smile faded.
Then the center fielder leapt and crashed against the wall. Everyone held their breath until she held up her glove and showed the bright yellow ball nestled inside. The Dragons cheered and ran out of the dugout. Razor stopped halfway to second, dropped her helmet, and braced her hands on her knees.
It’s okay. It’s okay.
Razor schooled her emotions, picked up her helmet, and walked to the dugout.
There were cheers, not only from her team, but from the crowd.
Even the Dragons realized what they’d witnessed and showed respect.
She was stunned by the gratitude and gave a gracious wave to everyone, then walked into the dugout to stow her gear.
She turned to her team, saw the sad expressions on their faces.
She rolled her eyes and clapped her hands hard.
“Okay, everyone, let’s get ready for the next one.”
“Why? Our season is over,” Emery said.
“We have two more games. I don’t know about you, but I want to give them a taste of what they can expect next year.”
Hoots and hollers went up as everyone grabbed their gear and went out to warm up for the day’s second game. Everyone except Razor, who approached Courtney.
“Give Harper the start in the next game. And tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. It’s her time now.”
Courtney smiled and pulled Razor into a hug. “Thank you. For everything.”
“No. Thank you.” She pulled back and looked her coach in the eye. “I hear you may have an opening on your coaching staff.”
Courtney’s eyes went wide before she composed herself. “Yes, I do. Know anyone who’d be interested?”
“Yeah. Me.”
Courtney offered her hand, and Razor shook it firmly.
“Let’s meet at The Edge on Sunday to discuss it more.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Razor said, then darted out of the dugout and crossed to the visitors’ side. “Hey,” she called out to the Dragons. “Where’s Dash?”
“Dash?” a player asked.
“The one who caught the ball. Where is she?”
A tall, skinny girl with dark hair and golden amber skin shouldered her way to the front of the group.
“That was me.”
“Do you still have the ball?”
She nodded.
“Bring it here.”
Razor borrowed a pen from their coach and grabbed the ball out of the air when it was tossed to her.
“That was a heck of a catch, Dash.”
“My name is Esther.”
Razor handed the ball back to her. “You just robbed me of a home run at my last at-bat as a player. You have to be pretty fast to do that. Therefore, your name is Dash.”
Esther blushed and furrowed her brow as she glanced at the signature.
“Razor, huh?”
“Hang on to that ball. It’ll make a helluva story.”
She returned to her own dugout and found Ashton waiting.
“What was that all about?”
“I signed the ball for her. Now she’ll always remember the day she stole a home run.”
Ashton patted her arm. “That was very sweet of you, but you better get out there and warm up. We only have a few minutes before the next game starts.”
Razor shrugged. “I’m not playing. And I won’t be playing tomorrow either.”
“What? Why?”
Razor took Ashton’s hand between hers. “Because you were right. They have all the tools they need to be successful. They’ve already won.”
She looked toward left field. Despite the loss, everyone was in good spirits, relaxed, goofing off. Tenderness showed in Ashton’s eyes as she pulled Razor into a fierce hug. She felt peace in Ashton’s arms, and she looked forward to having them around her for a long time.
“So, what are you going to do now?” Ashton asked.
“I have a coffee date with Courtney on Sunday about joining the staff next season.”
“Are you serious?”
Razor nodded. “Until then, I’ll probably go back to Slugfest and help the new on-site psychologist get her practice up and running. What do you think?”
Ashton bit her lip and said, “I think we have a whole summer to explore your options.”
“Am I going to like some of these options?”
A throaty chuckle escaped Ashton’s lips before they landed on Razor’s.
The kiss soon escalated and deepened with unguarded passion.
The noise and chaos faded away, leaving a sense of peace, driving out the darkness.
Razor’s heart swelled when she realized what this feeling was: the feeling of absolute love.