Chapter 32
Alfie kept an eye on the skipper’s door, and saw the dazed look on Rhys’s face when he came back out. He didn’t look upset. Alfie did not know why he’d have reason to be. He had been good out there. Better than Alfie had been himself. He'd been too distracted.
Alfie couldn’t get Rhys’s words to that kid out of his head. Even after he’d gone to Rosie’s apartment, and she told him she was going to propose to Jen.
“I couldn’t stay there, but I wasn’t good at running away either.”
That was a damn lie. If there was one thing Rhys was good at, it was running away. “You have room to talk,” he muttered as he headed toward the showers.
As the water poured over him, his thoughts went back to Rhys.
He kept slipping farther and farther away from Alfie.
In the process, Alfie had let too many balls get past him.
It would not surprise him if the skipper ended up putting Henry Merritt in at third base instead of him.
Alfie’s focus was not where it should be.
Especially when it looked like he would have a wedding to help pay for in the next year or so. Rosalita said they wanted to wait until she graduated. If Jen said yes.
Which he had exactly zero doubts about, no matter what Rosalita feared.
He didn’t understand why he’d been the one she came to asking to help plan how she’d ask. He’d never proposed to anyone before. She had two sisters who were married. Alfie hadn’t even had a long term relationship.
That could happen when you always fell for a friend and they ended up not feeling the same way.
Which was why he should keep his distance from Rhys until he was settled again. After all, he had someone else now, didn’t he? Alfie needed to be okay with that.
Instead of finding him and seeing what the skipper wanted, Alfie headed to the video room. He didn’t bother turning on a light, grabbing a tablet and taking it into the corner of the room. He had not faced the Sailors’ starting pitcher before, and he wanted to see what they were up against.
By the time someone else flipped the light on, he’d gotten a good read on the guy.
He was a strike-thrower. Relied heavily on his fastball and a sinker.
His walk rate was low, which meant they’d need to come out swinging today.
Which the rest of the Sailors weren’t slouching at themselves, either.
Or stealing bases. He wondered who was behind the plate today.
If it was Oscar, they should be okay. He was certainly no Rhys, but he was a better defensive catcher than Zaid.
The kid just needed some more experience.
Not that Alfie thought he’d ever be as skilled as Rhys at reading batters or their own pitchers.
He glanced up from the tablet in his hands and saw Rhys stood there just inside the doorway. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think anyone else was in here.”
“Just studying Rogerson’s arm.” Alfie set the tablet back in his lap. “Why are you in here?” Rhys hadn’t been on the lineup when it was submitted, so there wasn’t any reason for him to study the opposing team.
“Need to see what we’re up against, so I can call pitches for Ezra today.”
“You’re playing?” Alfie asked. He hadn’t thought the skipper planned to put Rhys back in, not with the way he’d kept him in the bullpen the rest of this series.
“Yep,” Rhys said, popping the end of the word. “Guess Skip didn’t have a choice when Zaid and Oscar both injured themselves.”
Alfie doubted that was the only reason Turner was putting Rhys in.
Sure, Oscar had been complaining of some stiffness, but he’d played through it before.
Alfie couldn’t help studying Rhys’s face.
He hadn’t really talked to him since the night before.
Since he’d learned more about Rhys’s past than he had in the almost three years they’d known each other.
Rhys was smiling. He actually looked happy. Something Alfie hadn’t seen in nearly a week. Alfie did not want to do anything to wipe that away. He would not bring up what Rhys had told that boy. As if Rhys would talk about it with him. He never had before.
“What do you think our chances are against Rogerson?” he asked instead.
Rhys glanced up from whatever report he’d been studying, his grin flashing. “He doesn’t give up a lot of walks, though you never know what he’s going to throw. Just gotta swing the bat, and take advantage of his love for the strike zone. We do that, and they can’t stop us.”