Intentional Walk: Dating Mr. Baseball Book 3

by McConnell, Lucy

  She walked up and down each aisle the kids had occupied, scoring a Rice Krispie treat wrapper and a pencil. Just as she was finishing up, she heard Coach Wolfe call, “Brayden.”

  “Yeah.” Brayden’s hand went up, right in front of her.

  She panicked and ducked behind the waist-high concrete barrier that separated the stands from the field, pressing her back against the cold. She tipped her head up, seeing only the safety net and the sky. Her heart beat so loud she was sure Brayden could hear it. She covered her mouth with her hands to muffle her breathing. She couldn’t face him. She couldn’t.

  Coach Wolfe’s footsteps shuffled against the dirt and stopped just behind her. “Listen, I heard you and Tilly …”

  Tilly strained to listen over the sound of her pulse in her ears.

  “So?”

  There was pain in that one small word. She could hear it roll over and around, stitching into his voice like the laces of a baseball.

  “So I need to know how working here is going to affect the two of you, if at all.” He grunted, and a bucket creaked taking his weight. A moment of silence passed. “All right, I don’t need to know as much as Harper does.”

  Tilly’s eyes crinkled. She really liked Harper Wolfe.

  “It shouldn’t change a thing. I’m here to do a job, and I don’t get distracted,” came Brayden’s reply. His voice was formal, not an ounce of remorse or regret. His bucket shifted. “Tilly is gone, and I’m here.”

  “So you don’t mind seeing her around the park?”

  Would they fire her if he said she was a distraction? She couldn’t lose this job, not now, not when she was still too bruised, and sort of afraid, to climb again. Leading tours was nice and safe. She needed safe right now.

  “Naw. I’m good.”

  Tilly pressed her fingers into her the skin around her mouth, her jaw resisting the pressure. The physical pain was a distraction from the daggers in her heart at being dismissed so easily by the man who’d once said he loved her. Unable to listen to any more of their conversation, Tilly rose to a crouch and worked her way up the steps as silently as she could.

  When she got to the top, she felt a pair of eyes on her. Not just any eyes, but Brayden’s eyes. She’d know his visual caress anywhere. She turned and found him staring up at her, his brow pinched. He looked absolutely perfect on the field, framed by the green grass behind him. Her lips formed the words I love you before she could stop them. If he saw the movement, he didn’t acknowledge it.

  A lump formed in her throat and she whipped around, sprinting for the exit. Her shift was over and her heart was broken. But she’d be back. She wasn’t going to let Brayden push her away from her friends. And she did have friends here. If she was going to survive this breakup, she’d need all the support she could get. Elise hadn’t fallen away, and Clover was a champ. They wouldn’t let the guys turn her out. Not that they would. Things would be awkward, but she didn’t think Dustin, Blake, or the other players were the type to cut her off.

  Brayden’s eyes stayed on her until she was out of his field of vision. But that wasn’t quite far enough for her to let go of the yearning inside. Maybe one day she’d be able to see him and not crave the feeling of his warm breath on her neck or his large hand on her lower back. Maybe one day she’d forget that for a while, she had all that she’d ever dreamed of. And then one day she’d find a way to move on. But today was not that day.

  * * *

  Brayden

  That was the second time in three days that Brayden had watched Tilly walk away from him, and it was just as gut-wrenching this time as it had been in his bedroom. Nope. This time hurt even more.

  She couldn’t have heard his conversation with Coach. If she had, she would have picked up on his lies, would have known that he was dying inside. That every breath without her was like watching your best pitch get hit out of the park. It tore at him. Why didn’t they have screws and pins that could put his heart back together?

  He’d get through this. He’d gotten through his mom leaving. He’d survive. One day, he’d look Tilly up on social media and see her with a couple kids and a husband. They’d be at some monument, climbing gear on and smiles all around. And he’d have confirmation that he’d done the right thing. He held on to that idea, because every fiber of his being told him he’d made the wrong decision. His head was the only thing that disagreed. He had to follow his head on this one—he’d followed his heart, and he’d hurt Tilly. He’d broken the promises he’d made.

  He tapped his knuckles on the concrete half wall that separated the fans from the players and stared up at the spot where Tilly had disappeared.

  “Hey, Birks,” said Newton from behind him. “You might want to get out of range. Gunner’s curves can go wild.”

  Brayden shook himself and moved to the side. “Go ahead.”

  Newton squatted down and raised his mitt. Gunner wound up and threw. His knee didn’t hesitate. Brayden gave him credit for being able to make the adjustment. The ball, however, spurtted high and outside. Newton didn’t even try for it. He took another ball from the batboy and tossed it out to the mound.

  Brayden walked out there too.

  Gunner’s shoulders came forward and his back slouched. “What? I didn’t hesitate.”

  “No, but you could have killed a Cracker Jack vendor,” Brayden joked. He would have said the same thing to Turk Smith or Corban Noland, guys he’d shared the bullpen with.

  “Shut up.”

  Brayden pulled a baseball out of his back pocket. He’d tucked it in there before walking out of the dugout. It felt natural to hold a ball, his fingers tracing over the laces. “When you’re this bad, you need to shut up and listen. Don’t talk, punk.”

  Gunner moaned. “You just love to tear me down, don’t you?”

  Brayden didn’t answer. Instead, he laid his middle finger on the inside seam of the ball. “Your rotation isn’t enough.” He turned his wrist. “You need to roll that ball off your finger, pressing down as your wrist turns.” He mimed the movement again. Gunner didn’t even look at him.

  Brayden held back his tirade. Without thinking, he threw the ball to Newton. His arm didn’t lift high enough to get the proper shoulder rotation; his wrist twisted too much, and the ball flew between home and first base.

  Gunner snorted.

  Brayden glared at him. “That was as good as your pitch to the upper seats.”

  “Whatever.” Gunner kicked at the rubber. “Get out of the way, old man.”

  “Punk,” Brayden called before heading to the dugout. He’d had enough. Seeing Tilly was killing him. He wished he could ask her what to do with this guy. She’d come out here, give Gunner a hard time, and he’d fall under her spell just like every other guy she talked to. People liked her. Heck, his dad had almost disowned him when he’d fessed up to the breakup. He’d made broccoli and cauliflower pizza for dinner last night. It was like a spanking covered in cheese.

  Just as his foot hit the first step, he heard the crackle of the ball hitting the net behind the catcher. He closed his eyes. Some guys were too stubborn to teach, and he was not a gifted teacher. He was failing. And the one person who could make it all better had walked away from him—again. It didn’t matter to his heart that he’d told her to; it still made him ache.

  Chapter Ten

  Tilly

  Tilly managed to do her job and live across the street and one house down from Brayden and not see him for four whole days. It was because she knew his schedule. He knew hers too, so maybe he was helping out by avoiding her, too. The jerk.

  Yeah, her feelings were all over the place.

  Contrary to the online article about mending a broken heart, it did not get easier with time. Not that four days was giving it the old college try, but still … shouldn’t she feel marginally better? Like getting out of bed in the morning shouldn’t take every ounce of willpower and strength? Like going to bed at night shouldn’t require her to empty her tear ducts to fall asleep? A
nd walking into the stadium shouldn’t bring a flood of the most amazing memories to her mind.

  The team was on a road trip, and she had the day off. Elise was catching up on some paperwork and invited her over for a full-body workout. Since it was Sunday, the place would be a ghost town. Having a weekend off was a luxury in baseball.

  Tilly wanted to build some strength back in her upper body. It was amazing what a couple weeks without climbing had done to her. It’d made her soft in so many ways. If she could pull herself together and scramble up a boulder, she might be able to close the hole Brayden had left in her chest. Okay, that was unlikely, but she could at least breathe if the smell of scrub was in the air. She’d have to plant some in her yard and warn the landscapers not to yank it out. They tended to think the flowers she planted were weeds. Heck, maybe they were, but they were beautiful to her.

  She let her thoughts continue to drift in and out of reality as she walked through the maze of hallways on the bottom floor. She paused just outside the locker room, sure she could smell Brayden’s body spray. She closed her eyes and let the scent lift her spirits. That was the smell of soft kisses on a blanket under the stars. Brayden’s backyard was the seventh hole of the golf course. They’d spent many nights out there after late games, watching the heavens turn around them.

  She was pondering the feel of lying on his chest, his heartbeat in her ear and his hand trailing leisurely laps around her back, when she walked into the PT room and found him facing the far wall, doing leg lifts. He had his shirt thrown over one shoulder and his head was dotted with perspiration. His whole body shook as he counted out the last three lifts. Elise watched his legs and lower back, ensuring he was using proper form.

  Tilly’s mouth went dry. Ex-boyfriends were supposed to lose all their hair and grow potbellies. Someone hadn’t sent Brayden the memo, because he looked as beautiful as he had the day he’d crashed her climbing class and begged her to go out with him. He’d been so earnest, so honest with his interest. There were no games. He was just a guy hoping she’d let him buy her dinner.

  She was stuck there, caught between their exquisite past and their raw reality.

  “Oh, good. You made it.” Elise threw a towel at Brayden with a little more force than necessary. The glint in her eye said she’d pushed Brayden hard today. Oh, she’d never do anything to put him danger of reinjury, but she could make a guy suffer the next day if she wanted to.

  Tilly gave her a small smile, but her heart went out to Brayden, who would have sore muscles and tenderness for a few days. Stupid heart didn’t even know what was good for it anymore. She knew this because as she stood there, her heart about leapt out of her rib cage, hoping to land in his large hands. She pressed her hand over her chest and told her organ to take a seat.

  Brayden rubbed the towel over his head and across his face. He looked everywhere except at Tilly and made no move to leave.

  Elise looked back and forth between the two of them. “I’m going to start the hot tub for you.”

  “Hot?” Brayden asked.

  Elise nodded. “We’re working on getting out the stiffness. Hot is better.” She retreated through the open archway that led into the recovery room.

  Tilly cupped her right elbow with her left hand. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I’m here a lot lately.”

  She chewed her lip. Of course he was. Doc and Elise were overseeing his post-op care. Doc had taken Brayden’s injury as a personal challenge.

  She glanced at the archway, wishing Elise would come back. How long did it take to turn on a stupid hot tub?

  Brayden took two steps forward, closing the distance between them to arm’s length. “How’ve you been?”

  Tilly took a step back. Up this close, he looked even better than he had standing across the room, and her body wanted to mold itself to his, tucking into the spot she’d thought was created just for her. Something in the way his knee bent and his back relaxed reminded her of his casual brush-off when Coach Wolfe had asked how he was doing. He’d acted like their relationship was no more than a blip on the screen of life. They may have only dated for three months, but they were unlike any other months in her life. And Brayden had minimized the precious moments they’d shared with a few short remarks.

  “How’ve I been?” she fired back with venom.

  “Um … yeah?” His thick eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

  She stepped forward and poked his shoulder, hard. “You don’t get to ask that question. You lost all right to know how I’m doing when you broke up with me.” She poked him again.

  He stepped back, scowling. “I was just trying to make conversation.”

  “Well, don’t. You suck at it.” She stormed into the warm-up room, ready to find Elise on her own and get to work.

  Elise was staring into the water, her arms folded, pretending she wasn’t listening to them.

  Brayden followed her. She turned her head so she didn’t have to stare at his perfect abs. Seriously, Lord, couldn’t you have cursed him with a flat chest, for my sake?

  “Hey, you don’t have to be rude.” He put his shirt over his head first and then slipped his arms into the holes.

  “And you didn’t have to break up with me. I guess we all have to do things we don’t want to.” She threw his words back in his face. It satisfied her for about 2.3 seconds. Then the light dimmed in his eyes, and she knew she’d hit her mark. It didn’t bring her the satisfaction she was looking for. All it did was make her feel like she’d kicked a puppy. A big, beautiful puppy. “Please go away.” She chewed her bottom lip as her throat swelled with emotion.

  He bounced his hand off his thigh. “I’ll soak at the clubhouse at home,” he told Elise. They had a pool and hot tub in their development. They didn’t use it much, but there were a few nights … Tilly squeezed her eyes shut, begging her memory not to bring up those feelings.

  Elise nodded once, and he left.

  The air left the room with him, and Tilly wilted.

  Elise was there, holding her up. “You’re still in love with him,” she noted quietly.

  Tilly nodded against her arm. There was no denying her feelings. They were at the surface.

  “I’m so sorry. I’ll schedule you two apart from now on.”

  Tilly thought about what the coach had said. She shook her head. “You can’t. If Coach Wolfe or Harper finds out that our situation is causing problems, he’ll fire me.”

  Elise stepped back and pulled her curly hair up into a ponytail. “I’d like to say that’s not true, but he had that whole no-dating-players rule when I first started working here. He’s a stickler about keeping distractions out of the stadium.”

  “I remember you telling me about that.” Tilly rubbed her arms. “Let’s just get to work. I want to pretend that this didn’t happen.”

  Elise motioned to the archway. “I’m sure he’s gone by now. Let’s start with some barbells.”

  As Elise walked her though each exercise and charted a daily workout routine she could do at home, Tilly did her best to keep a mask of concentration on her face. When they were done, she hugged Elise and said goodbye. The mask stayed while she grocery shopped and pumped gas and didn’t slip until she shut the front door and landed her butt on the tile floor once again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Brayden

  Brayden was still in a fog when his dad picked him up at the player’s entrance of the stadium. He just couldn’t shake the wounded look in Tilly’s eyes when she’d asked him to leave. Had she yelled at him, railed at him, he could have handled it. He deserved to be yelled at. But the level of unhappiness surrounding her was too much.

  He settled into the passenger seat and clicked his seat belt in place. His dad had spent the day golfing, and the smell of St. George’s dry air and dust filled the car. In another few days, Brayden would be able to drive himself around. He just needed to be able to turn his head a little more to check his blind spot. It wasn’t that the doctors were h
olding him back; it was him. He didn’t want to hurt someone on the road.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Not good.” Brayden rubbed his forehead.

  “Wanna tell me about it?”

  His dad’s nonchalant question was not threatening. Still, he had no desire for broccoli and cauliflower pizza, so he started in on Gunner. “He’s such a punk. Anything I say is considered an insult. He’s been pampered and told how wonderful he is his whole life and can’t take correction.”

  “You mean criticism.”

  “I don’t criticize.”

  Dad shifted his hands to the bottom of the steering wheel and then ran them back up.

  Brayden sighed. “Just tell me.”

  “You’ve had this tone.” His voice lowered at the end of the sentence.

  “A tone?”

  “A tone.” Dad punctuated his words with a stern look. “Ever since I got here. It’s … harsh.”

  Brayden pulled his chin back. Had he? “I don’t mean to.”

  “I know. But you should pay attention to it.”

  “So his attitude is my fault.”

  “No, but putting him on the defensive isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

  Had he been that way with Tilly too? After the accident when she was sore and trying to care for him? In an instant, he knew he had. He shifted in his seat, his thoughts weighing him down. He plucked at his bottom lip, considering how much he’d pushed her away and what was her pulling away.

  “You saw Tilly today, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted.

  “That is one special lady. I miss her smiling face around your house.”

  Me too. “Dad.” His warning was weak.

  “What? She’s my baby girl.” He didn’t seem at all worried about picking sides in this situation. “I’m going to take her to lunch one day.”