Clutch Endgame

by Tarrah Anders

  Now, I am an experienced ball player, engaged and wiser. I actually feel like an adult as Sawyer and I walk through our furnished home. Sawyer and the designer spent the last few weeks planning each room, making it our new home and it looks like one of those home shows that you see on that Home Show Network where people buy houses, fix them up and sell them. Except, we bought this place and don’t intend to sell it, at least not anytime soon.

  In the living room is a large sectional that could fit quite a number of people, with my two jerseys hanging over the couch. One for San Diego, and the other for Arizona - both are framed and I fall a little bit more in love with Sawyer. I’ve never really highlighted who I am in the condo we lived in, but I enjoy the fact that she’s excited too. There is a massive screen on the opposite wall, with a projector screen hanging above it, which was one of my requests when she asked me about what I wanted in the house. The house had touches of both masculine and feminine throughout the space in the art and random objects that you would only see in the home catalogs for those fancy stores that you never know who really shops at.

  I like what I see so far, so overall - now I can say that I own some of that stuff in those catalogs.

  “Well, it looks like everything is in order.” Julia says walking in through the front door with her folder.

  “I think so.” I say turning to her. “Thank you for everything and I’m sorry that you got a little caught up in the tabloids.”

  “It’s no problem, I’m just glad that you guys had that idea for publicity to stop whatever rumors would have happened, my husband heard about it and even though he thought it was kind of cool, he was appreciative as well,” she smiles.

  “That was all Sawyer; she’s the brains behind this operation. She came in with the clutch for that.” I point at her using baseball terminology.

  “Is there anything else that I can do for you guys today?” Julia asks.

  “I think that we’re all good here. Thank you Julia for everything, it has been greatly appreciated. I know that we’ll be happy here.”

  “It truly is a great neighborhood, you’ll be good. Also, welcome to Arizona, the team and I hope that you have a relaxing off-season,” she smiles.

  “Thank you.” I reply as Sawyer comes to my side and slides her arm around my middle.

  “Yes, thank you for everything. It was a pleasure working with you.” Sawyer holds out her hand and the two shake.

  “There’s something nice for you two in the garage. My husband likes to welcome all out of town new owners this way, so by all means, blame him. My gift to you both is in your new fridge. Let me know if you guys have any questions at any time.” And with that, Julia waves and leaves us alone in our new home.

  I look to Sawyer and we both bolt for the garage door. We open it and see something that is quite unreal for a new home gift. Sitting inside the three car garage are two four wheelers, with elbow and knee pads with matching his and hers helmets. Attached to one of the handlebars is a note welcoming us.

  We turn and walk into the kitchen, open the fridge and peer inside. There is a fully cooked meal with “heat me” instructions attached to each dish with a six pack of my favorite beer. We each grab a beer, and untwist the bottle cap as we turn around to the counter where a note sits. “A home cooked meal made for you for the first night in your new home. Welcome and we sincerely hope that you both enjoy Arizona.”

  “Welcome to our new home, babe.” I kiss Sawyer’s temple as I tighten my arm around her waist. “Here’s to new beginnings.”

  EPILOGUE # 1

  SAWYER

  MARCH

  MY CALENDAR YEAR began two days ago - and this time I do not have to travel. There are no hotels, there are no bus trips or planes - I just have to drive to root on my man and his new team and that’s it. I don’t have to be without Gunnar for an extended period of time, and each night he comes back home to our home, to our bed.

  I’ve been working with the Gila Monsters around the clock to try to rebrand the team. I’ve been writing up media plans for each of the new players, including Gunnar and I hope that I’ve become an asset to the team.

  I don’t go to Spring Training for work anymore.

  I get to go now for fun.

  And I like this.

  I’M SITTING in the stands as Gunnar is warming up with the team. He offered me a quick wave and a tip of his head as he walked out on the field and began his routine. Life has been nice in Arizona. The winter months, were cold as Gunnar had mentioned but thankfully, we’re getting a touch of the spring beginning to warm up making our time here in Arizona welcoming. We’ll see how it goes when the summer months are upon us and I’m spending most of my days either in the air conditioning or in the pool with a shade covering me.

  We decided that the next off-season, we would spend in San Diego and put the place up for a vacation rental during the other times of year, aside from the games that we are playing San Diego.

  I’m wearing a Mrs. Reynolds jersey that Gunnar made for me when we loaded up with Gila Monster gear soon after moving here. Even though, we haven’t even discussed any wedding plans, he wanted it known from the start. I keep trying to tell Gunnar that we should just go to Vegas and elope, however he’s dead set on giving me a wedding to remember. I’m not sure exactly what that really means, but we keep saying that we’ll revisit it later. During the baseball season is not the time to discuss when we’re getting married. With the lack of time and the fact that we’re both busy. That’s not to say that when we’re in Vegas for those games that I won’t try to drag him to the Little White Chapel and have an Elvis impersonator marry us.

  “Hey! You’re the new guy’s girl? I remember you from that charity luncheon we did last year,” a familiar face says as she sits down beside me.

  “Yeah, hello, how are you?” I hope she reintroduces herself.

  “Betty. I’m good and you? How do you guys like Arizona so far?”

  “We’ve adjusted; it’s nice to not have that time change - that’s for sure.” I laugh.

  “Seriously, we’re not farmers around here… there’s no need!” She jokes.

  We fall into a comfortable conversation and by the end of the game; I think that I just made a new friend. Since both of our men are liable to become close due their positions, I can only hope.

  Later that night, Gunnar is getting back after eating dinner with the team. He walks directly to me in the kitchen upon entering the room, runs his hands through my hair and pulls me to him for a chaste kiss. He pulls away and looks exhausted and is rubbing his right forearm and flexing his arms.

  “Does it hurt?” I ask standing in front of the sink rinsing off my dinner plate.

  “It doesn’t and that’s just weird,” he replies further continuing to extend his arm back and forth.

  “How does it feel when you play?” I ask.

  “Like I never injured it. The docs say that’s normal after a period of time, but immediately after getting the cast off, there was no stiffness, no other awkward twinges, nothing.” He shakes his head.

  “Maybe the fracture made your arm better?” I tease.

  “Maybe I’m a superhero.”

  “Does that mean you will start to wear tights?”

  “Tights?”

  “You know all the good superheroes wear tights.” I hold in my laughter.

  “Iron Man wears metal; I would like to think that I’m him.”

  “But Captain America is my favorite. He wears tights.”

  “If the amazing Mr. Marvel himself, Stan Lee made you into a superhero - I have a feeling you would be in tights.”

  “Mr. Marvel would put me in bad ass gear that would be easy to move around in.” Gunnar sticks out his chest.

  “Like tights.” I nod.

  “What? No.”

  “Admit it Gun, you’d be a tights wearing superhero.” I smile.

  “Yes, dear.” He says placating me.

  “Ah, look you’re learning. You’re d
efinitely going to be a good husband if you can remember those two words.”

  He shakes his head and fills a glass with water from the fridge.

  My heart is racing, and I feel like I’m going to pass out. I need to share with him the news that I found out earlier this morning before going to his practice game, but I’m terrified.

  My hand slaps onto the table to keep my balance and my other hand flies over my chest. Gunnar notices my motions and looks at me with concern. He holds out his glass to me.

  “Need some water or something? You look like you’re going to throw up. You’re sweating as you’ve been hanging out in a sweat lodge. What’s going on with you?” He places the back of his hand against my forehead and our eyes meet.

  “Gun.” I say in a quiet tone.

  “Let’s go sit down, get you off your feet so you don’t pass out on me. You seemed fine a moment ago.” He helps me to the couch, returns to the kitchen, refills his water, and places it back in my hands.

  “Drink. Let me go get you something, what do you need? Aspirin? Is it a headache? You don’t feel like you have a fever.” He places the back of his hand against my forehead and looks to me with concern.

  “I don’t need anything, Gun. I’m fine.” I say, in hopes to get him to stop worrying, only knowing that what I need to tell him may make him worry more.

  EPILOGUE

  Gunnar

  SPRING TRAINING just began and so far, the guys on the Gila Monsters team have been very welcoming. Brian Melmen, the pitcher and I have spent some time practicing, and getting to know each other’s routines and way of working. We’ve become fast friends and I hope that we will eventually build up the kind of friendship that Bently and I had as teammates and friends.

  I miss the Hornets, purely because that the family that I’ve had in the entire organization, but I know that time will go on and I hope that time to time, I will get the chance to still hang out with the guys that I got close to and who knows bridge the gaps of teams.

  The Skipper with the Gila Monsters, so far has been standoffish, but I think by the start of the season he will warm up to me. He has been riding me hard and putting me in all the practice games as if I was a true rookie, but I know that I need to earn my spot. So, I’m busting my ass daily to prove to him that I deserve a spot on the roster.

  I’ve fully recovered from my elbow fracture at the end of last season as if I had never injured it to begin with, the team trainers were shocked that I didn’t experience stiffness and were pleased with my prognosis and clearance to play for this season.

  I was beat after the practice game today, afterwards a few of the guys and I went out for drinks and dinner. So, far the other players have been welcoming, aside from their current catcher hasn’t been playing his best for the past two seasons and likely fears that I’m here to replace him. Ultimately, that’s my goal - I’m striving to be a starter, but of course, I don’t have the seniority that he does. Time and perseverance will determine where I will stand with the team once the season begins. I have faith in my capabilities, the team wasn’t gunning for me for nothing, and they likely don’t want me warming the bench, but making a difference on that ball field.

  I pull the Jeep into the garage, lean my head back against the seat and smile.

  Home, sweet home.

  I take a moment to relish in the fact of how amazing my life is. It was great in San Diego, and it’s just as great here in Arizona. The house is more than we can ask for; we can eventually have a family to fill some of the empty bedrooms with and plenty of memories to make here. I figure to not waste any more time in the garage and head on inside to where my woman is.

  I find her washing dishes at the island sink in our kitchen. Her hair is down, light waves in her hair begging for me to run my fingers through, pull her to me and kiss her senseless. Which I do.

  I’m still amazed at the way my elbow has magically healed. After making fun of my superhero status with Sawyer, I continue extending my arms and fingers, knowing I should just leave it alone and thank my superhero guardian angel for not giving me any sort of issues upon my injury healing.

  I grab myself some water and turn as I take a sip and notice that Sawyer’s demeanor has suddenly changed. She looks like she’s going to hurl all over the floor, she’s sweating and looks like she will pass out. I rush to her and hand her my water encouraging her to drink it.

  “Let’s go sit down, get you off your feet so you don’t pass out on me. You seemed fine a moment ago.” I take her to the couch and then return to the kitchen, refill my water and bring it back to her, worrying about what the hell just happened. She doesn’t get sick very often, so when she does I probably tend to overreact.

  “Thank you.” She whispers taking the water and tentatively sipping it. She looks nervous, and I’m not sure why.

  “Drink. Let me go get you something, what do you need? Aspirin? Is it a headache? You don’t feel like you have a fever.” I stand trying to remember which bathroom has the over the counter meds for headaches or sickness.

  “I don’t need anything, Gun. I’m fine. Sit down,” she asks and holds out her hand. “There’s something that I need to talk to you about.”

  Immediately, my brain is cataloging the events that have recently occurred. Nothing is coming to mind that would be negative and then I’m freaking out at the unknown.

  What the hell could have happened since I saw her this morning leaving the house? She seemed to be fine at the game, chatting it up with Melmen’s wife and then I would have figured that she would have mentioned something in either a phone call or a text that something was wrong otherwise. So, I’m clueless, drawing a blank and panicking for the worse.

  “Calm down, Gun.” She says calmly. “I need you to go into the kitchen and look on the fridge.”

  Confused. I do as she ask. On the fridge is a Post It Note.

  Walk over to the counter for your next note.

  I do as the note asks, getting more confused as to why I’m on a scavenger hunt and what the hell this has to do with her looking like she was about to throw up all over the place.

  The next note says to turn around and I do. There is another note on the handle of the stove.

  Open me!!!

  I open the stove and peer inside to see a hamburger bun sitting on the rack. I reach in and pull it out.

  What the fuck is this? I look down at the bun in my hand and then back to the stove. Why is there a bun in the stove? What is the meaning of this?

  I open the bun and see a small photo and now everything makes sense.

  Sawyer put a bun in the oven, because it’s her way of telling me that I put a bun in her oven.

  Holy shit!

  I take a closer look at the black and white photo, and then I look at Sawyer - who is no longer sitting down on the couch in the other room, but standing on the other side of the kitchen with a soft smile on her face.

  “We’re? You’re” This means?”

  “We’re having a baby, Gun.”

  EPILOGUE #2

  Gunnar

  December

  I BROKE the television in the delivery room and Sawyer is pissed off at me. Luckily, she was smart and pre-packed her tablet with our spare laptop. The hospital had Wi-Fi so we pulled up Netflix, so we passed the time with watching movies until our son decided that it was finally time to grace us with his presence.

  Half-way through pushing our boy out, Sawyer had decided that she had enough and told the doctor that she should have a C-Section instead. The doctor told her one more push and then ten pushes later, Sawyer was yelling at the doctor that she was a liar and out came our son.

  As our boy was placed on Sawyer’s chest for some skin to skin, Sawyer looked down at our son and then up at me with a drunken gaze. She then looked at the doctor who was then stitching her up and apologizing for shitting on the table.

  The doctor assured her that it happens every time and winked in my direction.

  I stood beside the tw
o single most important people in my life and never felt more complete. I looked down at my wife - who wrangled me into a walk in chapel when she was four month pregnant in Vegas - and my son in total admiration. She cooked this kid, in her own oven for months. Her body will then feed him for months, and we will raise him, hopefully to be a stellar ball player.

  How is this my life?

  How did I get so lucky to have met Sawyer in that stupid contest on a random chance? How did I convince her to give me another shot after the drama that originally happened with us with the Hornets previous PR person?

  And how the hell did I get so lucky to get her to agree to be my wife?

  I have experienced both success and failures in life and in the game of baseball. I have done well under pressure when it matters and the same can be said for Sawyer. But if today’s experience of watching my wife give birth means anything, is that having a baby is the biggest and most important moment, thus far in my life, and no ball game will ever compare.

  DEAR FRIENDS,

  Thank you so much for your support. If you enjoyed this book, please sign up for my newsletters so you can be in the know when a new book comes out, or if you just want to hear me ramble about nonsense.

  My newsletter has sneak peeks of upcoming books, giveaways, and also fun stuff.

  Please check out my website at: WWW.TARRAHANDERS.COM

  I hope that in some shape or form you felt connected to my characters, I strive to have my stories be as relatable as possible, and not too outrageous. The sole purpose for me to bring my friends these stories is to feel like that too can be you.

  That being said, I write to make you happy. I wouldn’t be able to do so without your feedback. Whether if you leave a review (Please do that would be spectacular) or if you feel like shooting me a message at: tarrah.anders@gmail.com . I would love to hear from you.