Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
As I stood in the stadium in Miami, the heat beat down along my spine. The sun glared above us, almost as antagonistic as the guys on the field. The tension was thick, muttered curses breaking out into a screaming match as they kept pace with one another.
Even up in the stands, the surge of adrenaline from both teams overwhelmed us.
Both Erie City and Miami wanted to come out the winners in this series.
With the playoffs starting next week, everyone wanted that edge, but only one team could walk away the winner.
With most of the fans decked out in Miami’s color, we were the lone patch of dark green in a sea of aqua blue.
I gripped the edge of my jersey, still trusting my instinct to wear it. Damien left for the stadium long before I woke up, so my wearing it would be a surprise to him. Sure, he’d asked me to, but it was different to actually have it on me.
During a normal game back home, he would have already spotted me, gifting me a cocky smirk that made my eyes roll and my thighs clench simultaneously.
But tonight, gone was that arrogant man strutting across the field, playing up his skills for the crowd.
Damien stayed focused, so focused, he’d barely had time to glance up here; he only offered me a slight smile when he saw me waving.
I tucked my lip between my teeth, imagining the spark in his eyes when he saw me wearing it, his rough hands running underneath the fabric, reminding me what it meant to be his.
Because me in his colors, with his name embroidered along my shoulders, the number twelve boldly displayed along my spine, told the world I was his, just as much as Damien was mine.
Ollie practically squealed when I showed up at her hotel room, all dressed and ready for the game in her Drobrek jersey. I tried to push in to tell her all about my night, but she ushered me out too quickly, making up some excuse about the room being a disaster.
That was no surprise. The girl practically lived every day like it was a challenge to cover most of the floor with clothes, papers, and everything else she owned. But this was the first time she had ever hidden it from me.
“They need to get ahead of these guys,” Ollie muttered from my side, her thumbnail jammed between her teeth. “Next inning. They’re going to get so many hits during the next one.”
Ollie kept muttering, her words more for herself than for me.
As she whispered prayers to anyone who would listen, I zoned out, focusing on the field.
While the opposing team worked through their batting lineup, the surrounding group chatted.
A lot of the wives didn’t travel for away games, but some other family members showed up and sat with us in the outfield.
Most of them didn’t travel for regular away games, but a couple made the trip down to Miami before the winter months took over upstate New York.
In fact, some seemed more interested in the nightlife downtown than in the game in front of them, but I tuned them out. While baseball had never been high on my list of interests, knowing someone I cared about was playing his heart out on that field made things shift for me.
“Fuck,” Ollie muttered as another player snuck past Parker, making a break for home while he rushed to grab the ball. Her eyes darted up to the scoreboard, frowning as Miami surpassed the Hawks in runs.
“Is Parker okay?” I quietly asked. That was the third ball Parker had let slip through his fingers. “He’s having an off day.”
Ollie’s mouth opened and promptly slammed closed. Eventually, she sighed. “Something’s going on with him, but he won’t talk to me about it. I thought it was just the pressure of the season but…”
“But?”
Her face fell, more solemn than I’d ever seen. “We’ve always been open with each other, even at our worst. And if he’s throwing up walls between us now…” She gave me a humorless smile. “I’m probably overthinking everything.”
Before I could respond, a crack slammed through the air, and my eyes focused on the batter in front of us.
He had barely moved, watching the ball to see what would happen next.
As if he had predicted it, Cam rushed forward and caught the pop-up in his glove, holding it up to mark the out.
The Miami fans groaned as the innings switched and our guys headed back into the dugout.
I reached out and took Ollie’s hand. “Hey, we’re only in the fourth inning. Still a lot of game left to play. He’s going to be okay.”
“I hope so,” she answered, her eyes not leaving the dugout. As if he sensed her stare, Parker looked up, making a signal with his fingers. The tension instantly faded from Ollie’s shoulders, and for the first time all day, a genuine smile graced her lips.
The Hawks started going through their lineup, and we held our breaths every time the ball sailed through the air—mostly singles, one double, and the Hawks had resumed their close lead.
As Damien jumped out of the dugout and walked toward home plate, my breath caught in my throat.
He’d had a great game so far, which I might have taken a little credit for in my mind.
After all, was it such a leap to think our openness with each other led to him performing well on the field?
Okay, it might have been, but in my lust-addled mind, it made complete sense.
When he stepped closer, his eyes scanned the outfield, stopping when he found me waving wildly at him.
Without another thought, I leapt up, turning around to show him the back of my jersey.
I peeked over my shoulder fast enough to catch his wide smile.
My heart almost imploded, loving the look on his face. It made me feel loved, seen.
“Umm, Bri,” Ollie whispered, tugging on my sleeve.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who caught Damien’s wave.
On the large scoreboard, where the numbers for the game had sat only seconds earlier, was now my face, broadcast to the entire stadium.
My knees wanted to buckle so I could hide back in my seat, but I refused to let it shake me.
Instead, I just stared back at Damien and winked.
The attention dug holes through my skin, but it was worth it. I’d never hide this again.
As the cameras turned away from me to focus back on Damien, I found my seat, clutching Ollie’s hand.
He had this. As he sauntered up to the base, his presence filled the entire stadium, all of us on edge as we waited for him to make his play.
The first ball flew, and Damien hardly moved, only smirking when the ump called it in his favor.
But the second pitch was perfect, careening toward Damien with precision.
My eyes slammed shut when I heard the bat and ball collide, unable to take a breath until I heard the roar of the crowd.
“RUN!” Ollie screamed from my side, jumping out of her seat and pulling me with her.
The Miami fans grumbled and jeered as their players tried to catch the ball, screaming the exact opposite of Ollie and me, but I didn’t care.
Not as Damien rounded the bases, hurtling toward second base with impressive speed.
With the other Hawks on the bases rushing through home, the scoreboard lit up with runs, giving their team the lead they’d been seeking all night.
But just as Damien passed through second base, he hesitated before dashing toward third.
Action caught my focus out of the corner of my eye, and I spotted the outfielder chucking the ball toward the baseman with all his might.
Damien would make it.
He had to make it.
He must have spotted the throw at the same time as me, because his legs pounded the dirt with renewed vigor, shaking the ground as he passed.
Just as the ball reached the baseman’s glove, he stepped off the base to catch it, giving Damien an opening.
He rushed toward the bag, and his legs stumbled.
One bent over the other as he collided with the ground, his arm landing right across the bag.
When the ump called out ‘safe’, Ollie and I sent up twin cheers of joy, elated he’d actually made it to third. But as the crowd died out, I glanced back at the field and saw Damien hadn’t gotten up. He still lay on the ground, slamming his fist into the ground as he cried out in pain.
“Ollie…” I said, my voice trembling as my heart pounded in my chest.
She pulled me into a sideways hug, but my eyes never left the field, watching as the other players and Coach Weber rushed to Damien’s side. I kept waiting for him to get up, to shoot me his usual smirk.
Instead, all I could do was watch as people gathered around the man I loved, trying to sort out what had happened. I clenched my hands in front of my face, unable to look away for even a moment. Get up. Get up. But when the stretcher rolled out onto the field, dread overtook me.
“Ollie, I have to go,” I said, frantically searching the crowd for help. My best friend pulled me up the stairs, darting toward the elevators to the players’ level. As she slammed her thumb onto the down button, I pulled back. “You should go back out there. I have a pass—”
“Don’t even think about it,” Ollie snapped, pulling me inside the opening doors. “We’re family, Bri. When one of us goes down, we all do. There’s no way I’m letting you handle this on your own.”
And as the doors closed, my best friend’s hand clenched in mine, the tears finally came as I muttered the words, “He has to be okay.”
“He will be,” Ollie said. “Even if it takes time, we’ll be there, every step of the way.”