Chapter 46
“You sure are taking a lot of risks with the game today. Did I make a mistake not putting Zaid in?”
“No, Skip.” Rhys buckled on his leg protectors. His shoulder throbbed after the way he’d landed sliding into second. After trying to outrun a throw in the first, he should have learned his lesson. He’d thought he could make it.
He’d been caught in the double play anyway.
“Are you sure? That last play… I know no one gave you the green light to steal. You’re not a base stealer, Rhys. That was two aggressive runs in this game.”
They were still only one run ahead in the sixth inning. He’d hoped to change that. “Even if I hadn’t taken off early, it still would have been a double play. Does it really matter?”
“It does if you’re going to hurt yourself.”
Rhys wanted to curse. He’d thought he’d hidden it so well, too. “I’m fine, Skip.”
“Then, you don’t mind having Maggie take a quick look at your shoulder.”
“I need to get out there.”
So Rhys was being more aggressive with his baserunning than was advised. He didn’t want to let the team down. Not when they’d given him more chances than he deserved. When they were giving him a chance now, when they could have just left him off the lineup.
Turner gave him a hard look. “You have a few minutes. Have Maggie look at your shoulder, or I’m making a defensive substitution. You’ll talk to Brady until we get to the bottom of what’s going on with you.”
“Nothing’s going on,” Rhys said sharply. A little too sharply by the way Turner’s brows furrowed. “Sorry,” he added, though it was likely too late for that. “I just want to go do what I’m best at.”
“Then, you should stick with that and not what your teammates are best at.”
“I was talking baseball in general.”
“I wasn’t. That’s not the only thing you’re good at. It might do you well to remember that.”
Rhys wanted to scoff, but he was sure that wouldn’t go over well with Turner. It wouldn’t matter what Maggie said, Turner would make him sit if he showed that kind of attitude. So, he gave a tight nod and walked over to where Maggie stood, arms crossed in front of her.
“You trying to throw yourself out of the game?” she asked, even as she put her hand on his shoulder, feeling around it.
“No,” he said shortly. “Just wanted to make it on base.”
“Didn’t work out that way, did it?” She manipulated his shoulder, and he barely held in a wince. He would have to ice it later, but he should be fine to make it through the game. “Tell me if it gets stiff.”
Turner nodded at him, and he finished buckling on his gear before jogging out behind the plate. He crouched down and slid his mask into place before calling for a fastball, low and inside. Brad Tanley had never been good at hitting those.
Isaac’s arm must have been growing tired. They should have relieved him this inning, but he’d been keeping traffic mostly off the basepath. Now, he couldn’t seem to hit his targets. Five pitches later, Brad jogged out toward first base.
Rhys pushed his mask up as he headed out toward the pitcher’s mound. “I’m sorry,” Isaac said, his glove coming up over his mouth.
“Are you all right?” Rhys didn’t need apologies. A walk wasn’t the end of the world. Not unless the bases were already loaded. Which wasn’t the situation here. “Do you think you can finish out the inning?”
Isaac hesitated, and that was all Rhys needed to know. He looked toward the dugout and gave a jerk of his head. Both Guillory and Turner came out to the mound. “Sorry,” Isaac said again, this time to the pitching coach.
“Don’t be,” Guillory said. “You gave us six good innings. Go rest that arm. Put some ice on your shoulder.”
Isaac started making his way toward the dugout, and Rhys stood on the mound as they waited for Kione to make the trek from the bullpen. “Speaking of shoulders,” Turner said, and Rhys cast him a hard look.
“It’s fine. Maggie cleared me.”
“With reservations,” Turner reminded him. “Any sign of discomfort, and I’m pulling you. So, how’s the shoulder?”
“It’s fine.” Rhys resisted the urge to roll it and possibly show the exact opposite. He could get through the next few innings. It wasn’t a problem.
Turner stared hard at him for another minute, though it felt much longer before he nodded. “Tell us if that changes.”
“Will do.”
Kione stepped onto the mound and took the ball from Turner. The two coaches headed toward the dugout but Rhys lingered on the mound for a moment. “Tim Weaver is a very careful hitter. If you can hit the corners, he’ll probably sit back and take them.”
“I know, Rhys,” Kione said slowly, but he smiled. “I know exactly how to handle Weaver.”
“All right then.” He jogged toward home plate and resumed his position. After a few warm up pitches, the batter stepped into the box. Rhys called for a fastball on the outside corner. Kione gave a short nod and threw the pitch, hitting almost exactly where Rhys had his glove waiting.
“Strike!”
Weaver grumbled but he brought the bat up to his shoulder and took up his stance.
Rhys called for the same pitch, but on the inside corner this time.
Weaver swung this time, but he completely missed the ball.
It landed in Rhys’s glove with a solid thwap, and he was on his feet almost immediately, throwing as hard as he could toward Nik at second to get Brad attempting to steal the base.
As soon as the ball left his hand he felt a sharp twinge in his shoulder. He let his arm fall to his side, pressing his other hand to the joint and closing his eyes against the pain radiating from it.
“He’s out,” the ump called, but even that wasn’t enough to dull the pain.
When someone stepped up to him, he opened his eyes and looked into Turner’s stormy gaze.
“Go,” he ordered. “Zaid’s already getting his gear on.”
Rhys didn’t bother arguing. Even if he could convince Turner he was fine, he’d probably do more damage trying to throw the ball again. A light toss back to the mound might be too much.
He’d really gone and fucked up.