Chapter 39
“Man, I don’t know about y’all, but I can’t wait for this series to be over.
” Fields drops into the chair beside me in the dugout.
He and Miller joined me at the children’s hospital this morning before our game against Arizona tonight.
It’s been a rough series, but thankfully it’s Saturday night so we only have two more games against them.
Tomorrow night we fly out for a three-game away series before we finally get a day off on Thursday.
By the fifth inning, everyone is on edge. The trash talking is starting to get out of hand as I step into the batter’s box in the bottom of the inning. Jack, the catcher, is an ex-teammate from Triple A who got traded to Arizona during the off-season.
“Ah, The Chaser is back in the box,” he starts in immediately. “What are you known for chasing again? ‘Cause all I’ve seen is you chasing strikes.” As if to prove his point, the pitcher throws a nasty slider and I fall for it.
“Fuck,” I shout. Stepping out of the box, I roll my shoulders to shake it off and recenter in the box. I dig my right foot into the dirt, then step in with my left, swinging the bat a few times to settle into my stance.
“You still in trouble? Only the golden boy could get arrested and get off with a slap on the wrist.” Jack catches a wide curveball and stands to throw it back to the pitcher, knocking into my arm in the process.
I try to ignore him, but what he says next makes me second guess keeping my mouth shut.
“Or does this have anything to do with the hot piece of ass in the Troubadours’ front office?
” Jack and I have never gotten along great, but we hung out as a group and he was part of the crew in St. John, so I know he’s referring to Bree.
“Knock it off,” I snap, watching him lower back into position behind the plate. The smirk on his face tells me I won’t like what’s about to come out of his mouth. The pitch clock is winding down, so I have no choice but to get back in my stance and ready for the pitch.
Right as the pitcher winds up, Jack delivers his next threat, “Anyone else know you bang the team lawyer?”
Seeing red, I swing too early and foul the ball.
“Watch it, asshole,” I say, turning to face Jack and he gives me a predatory grin. He takes his sweet ass time standing to get a ball from the umpire who’s chalked this up to the trash talk we’ve been exchanging all game.
“Is that what you’re chasing these days, Chase? I’ll admit she’s a looker.” He throws the ball to the pitcher and leans in close to me while looking back to the stands where Bree sits with Ivory. “She was in that bar, and she must have a good pussy if it’s keeping you interested.”
This motherfucker.
“Shut the fuck up!” I yell into his face, pushing him back with my chest to his. I’ve had enough. The bat drops to the dirt, and I ball my hands into fists, ready to throw a punch as Jack laughs and keeps running his mouth about Bree. The urge to ruin him consumes me.
Jack throws his mask off. It hits the dirt at the same time as Miller runs up and wraps an arm around my midsection to hold me back. He whispers in my ear, “Calm it down, Rook. You’re on a short leash.”
“Already ball and chaining you, huh?” Jack taunts.
“He was—”
Before I can defend myself to Miller or fill him in, Jack spouts off again.
“Seen her with you too. Tell me, she fucking you both?”
“The fuck you just say?” Miller spins on Jack, shoving him back with both hands.
“Say one more fucking thing about her and I’ll end you.” I look over at the Arizona dugout and players are paying attention. This is about to get ugly.
But Jack refuses to stop. He steps chest to chest with Miller. “Do you take turns with her?”
Miller’s the happiest guy I know, but right now his face is bright red, his chest heaves, and his hands are balled into fists at his side. I’ve never seen him look so angry.
“Or is she one of those sluts that let you share and stretch her out at the same time?” Miller turns murderous and everything else seems to happen all at once.
I surge forward to try to get to Jack. Miller shoves me back with one arm.
Then he pulls back his right arm to throw a punch, landing a right hook to Jack’s jaw, and he crumbles to the ground.
Chaos ensues after that. The pitcher runs up behind me.
Both dugouts clear and everyone converges around home plate in an all-out brawl.
I duck repeated jabs to my face. Slurs are tossed around between teams. The umpires and coaches try to break up the fight but it’s impossible to tell who is speaking and throwing punches and who is pushing and shoving for the sake of the fight.
I manage to defend myself against the onslaught without landing a punch before someone pushes me to the edge of the crowd. Looking over, I see Fields dragging Miller to the fence behind home plate. Miller’s lip is bloody, clearly having taken a punch from someone else after landing a few himself.
“The hell is wrong with the two of you?” Coach Crenshaw spits in our faces.
If looks could kill, he’d incinerate both of us on the spot.
Shoulder to shoulder, Miller and I stand with our backs against the wall while Coach yells at us, neither of us commenting or defending ourselves.
What’s done is done and Coach doesn’t want to hear our excuses for causing a fight on the field.
Not that we caused it, but it won’t make a difference because we reacted.
We let Jack get under our skin and Miller threw the first punch.
We’re fucked for all intents and purposes.
Slowly, the haze starts to clear as I watch coaches and staff separate the teams. Everyone is out of breath, but several players are smiling.
It might be frowned upon, but there’s nothing like a bench clearing battle after the opposing team has been talking shit all series.
Trainers are attending to Jack who has come to and is sitting up on home plate.
“Let’s go, you’re both out.” Coach shoves me towards the dugout.
“Sorry, Coach.” I mean it, I truly do, but my only regret is that I wasn’t the one to punch Jack in his smug face.
“Fucker deserved it.” Miller spits in the dirt at our feet and swipes at the blood on his lip as he starts to walk past me and towards the dugout.
“I was getting there before you butted in,” I say to Miller.
“You can’t afford more trouble, Rook.” He slaps my back and keeps walking.
When we get back to the locker room, I make a beeline for the showers.
I need to calm down before talking to Bree.
The worry on her face killed me. Please let that be worry for me as her boyfriend and not worry for any of the other million reasons we’ve finally moved past on why we can’t be together.
She’s been more reserved since the game Tuesday night.
A pit forms in my stomach at what this could mean for us.