Hard to Catch: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (The Beasts of Baseball Book 3)

by Alice Ward

  Several YouTube videos had surfaced, capturing me in the act of saving the little girl. My stomach clenched as I watched. Her mother was so distraught, and that little girl so terrified. I had no choice. I’d do it all again, even with Coach screaming down my neck.

  I fell asleep, pushing the thoughts of the day out of my mind. Tomorrow, I’d deal with the wrath of the coach’s anger, but not tonight. Tonight, I’d sleep.

  ***

  The sun beat in through my window, blasting into my eyes as they started to open. I gripped my phone, checked the time, and then jumped out of bed in a panic. Fuck, it was already seven-thirty. I only had thirty minutes to get to the stadium.

  I threw on clothes, grabbed my phone and keys, and ran out the door. The doorman greeted me, “You feeling better, sir?” I didn’t have time for his inquiries into my personal life. I simply gave him a wave and kept on running.

  The stadium parking lot was empty. No practice, too early for games. It felt eerie walking the long halls in the underbelly of the stadium. As I neared the coach’s office, I heard voices coming from inside, echoing down the long, narrow corridors.

  “Come in. Sit down,” Coach said sternly as I appeared in the doorway.

  The GM was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his lips pursed tightly together. This isn’t good.

  “Todd, as you know we’ve had this discussion time and time again,” the coach started his speech, his brow furrowed with consternation.

  “I apologize, Coach. As I said, I had no idea that would happen.”

  His lips curled into a smile. His eyes brightened, and a chuckle escaped his throat. I felt at ease for a moment, but only a brief one as his expression quickly turned to a frown.

  “Todd, we just don’t feel that you’re the right fit for this team anymore. You have no regard for our rules, which is leading other players to behave the same way.” The GM spoke without emotion.

  Wow!

  “You’re throwing me out?” I asked, surprised my mouth was able to say the words.

  “Not throwing you out. But, we’ve determined it best for the team, for our image, that you be with a team more suited to your, well, your nature.” I leaned against my seat, pushing my back hard against the leather material at the GM’s words.

  The last couple seasons were rough, but this was uncalled for in my mind. So I had a few incidents in the past, but it wasn’t like I was the only one. Several of my teammates had been caught riding motorcycles; one was involved in a high-speed police chase that resulted in a crash, and hell, our first baseman was busted for playing hockey during the off-season.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Todd.” My coach acted as if he had any idea of what was going on in my head.

  “We’ve had a shaky history with the team getting out of control. But we feel that everyone is onboard for a new season, a new image. We thought you were as well. Until this.” I wanted to smack the GM hard enough to make him eat his words.

  “I don’t see the big deal. If I’d been in a car, not on a motorcycle, my injuries would be the same,” I snapped at them both.

  “And jumping out of an airplane?” Coach glared at me with beady eyes.

  “It’s as safe as riding in one.”

  “This isn’t your first incident, Todd. As much as we value you as a player on the field, we just don’t feel you carry the same values off the field we require for this team,” Coach said softly. “Rules are in place for a reason.”

  The GM crossed his arms tightly over his chest. Coach shook his head, and his eyes dropped to his hands that were clenched together on his desk. It was obvious they’d already made up their minds. It was useless to argue. The Mets had a new look, a new image, and Todd Morris no longer fit in.

  “I’ve been traded?”

  I couldn’t imagine leaving New York. I loved it here. I loved the people, the neighborhood, the stadium, my team. I wanted to plead with them to let me stay, but it was evident their mind had been made.

  That’s that. I’m no longer a New York Met.

  “We felt it best to have you here with none of the other players around. You can clean out your locker without anyone looking over your shoulder,” the coach said generously.

  I scooted the chair back with a loud screech I didn’t mean to create against the floor. I stood, extended my hand to the coach and then the GM. To leave with my pride if nothing else.

  “Where will I be going?” I asked, fearing the worst.

  Philadelphia. Cincinnati. Milwaukee. All of those were names I hoped not to hear.

  “Rhett.” Coach stood, looking toward his door.

  I turned. Rhett Hamilton stood in the doorway. He extended his hand to the coach, and then to the GM before focusing his attention on me.

  “Welcome to the Beasts,” he said with a wild grin and extended his hand to mine.

  As if on autopilot, I reached out to shake it, feeling as though my coach just made a deal with the devil.

  A Beast?

  Me?

  Hell the fuck no!

  CHAPTER TWO

  Katrina

  “Did you need me to take you somewhere else?” Larry, my Uber driver, was sweet but growing impatient with me.

  “No, thank you,” I said quickly, pushing a twenty to the front seat.

  I’d sat in the backseat of his Kia Forte for almost five full minutes in the wide, circular driveway. I wasn’t ready to go inside, to face the reality of my life. But Larry wasn’t going to let me sit here forever. I’m sure he had plenty of other poor carless saps to rescue today.

  It felt surreal standing at the front door of the large mansion where I grew up. My stomach twisted in knots as I turned the door handle to let myself inside. Geoffrey always greeted me before, but he was gone, along with the rest of the staff. As the metal touched the palm of my hand, I realized that it was probably the first time I’d ever done something as simple as let myself inside my own childhood home.

  “Oh, Katrina!” My mother rushed toward me, her long blonde hair pulled into a loose bun, her eyes red from what I assumed were tears.

  My body melted into hers. She smelled of vanilla and lavender, and even though her life was crumbling beneath her, she still managed to soothe me.

  “Hey, Kitty-Kat, you get the car dropped off okay?”

  I opened my eyes and stared at my smiling father, careful to not cringe at my childhood nickname. He looked too chipper for the situation. Delusional. His hand rested on his hip as he leaned against the rounded door frame leading to the dining area. The large room I stood in made me feel small, made him look small. Bobby “Spaceman” Delaney, baseball legend. That was my dad.

  “Yes,” I responded, but without showing the true emotion I felt.

  “Good girl.” His grin widened as my confusion grew. How could he be so calm? Hell, so cheerful?

  “I’ll get you a new car. A better one. Just wait and see, Kit-Kat,” he said with bright eyes and a tone that felt manic on my ears.

  My pink Mercedes was a gift for graduating Stanford. It was an upgrade from the one I received for my sweet sixteen, and up until now, I’d always believed there’d be more where that came from. But, not now. Not ever again. I hated dropping it off to the dealership where my father had leased it. The general manager was gracious, but a hint of pity in his eyes told me he knew about my father’s dilemma, my entire family’s dilemma. No matter how hard my parents tried to cover this up, I knew they couldn’t for long.

  “Yes, an even better car,” my mother said cheerfully, adding to my father’s delusion.

  I smiled graciously, picked up a box, and headed up the long, spiraling staircase to my old bedroom.

  The decorative French doors to my childhood bedroom opened to chaos. My furniture was pushed against the far wall, all accounted for by buyers, I presumed. I kicked off my shoes before stepping onto the super plush carpet so my toes would sink into the luxury one last time. This was it. Life as I once knew it was over.

 
; The contents of my dresser drawers were already emptied onto my white canopy bed. I pushed everything into a large suitcase and moved to my closet. I reached up on my tippy-toes, my fingers searching the top shelf for the little velvet box that held my treasures. The soft material against my fingertips gave me a sense of comfort that I’d been missing. My hand gripped around the box, pulling it from its secure spot on the shelf and to my chest. I squatted on the floor and opened the little box to take inventory. I’d been living on my own since college, but Daddy was paying my bills. Now that he couldn’t, this little box of treasures was the only thing I had to make it through.

  “Aww, sweetie.”

  I looked up to find my mother standing in the doorway of my closet. Her hands were clenched across her chest, her eyes filled with sorrow.

  “Your father had to sell everything to survive,” she murmured.

  Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I opened the box, stared at the empty space where my future once was, and felt doomed. “This was mine,” I said softly, lifting myself from the floor on legs that were much shakier than a moment ago.

  “Katrina, be fair. He was paying your bills. You needed to finish school.” My mother defended him as usual.

  “Yeah, my journalism degree, what good is that?” I snapped.

  Breaking into the industry wasn’t easy, and the only way to earn your dues was through internships, which didn’t pay. That was all fine and dandy when I was Spaceman Delaney’s daughter, legendary baseball player with more money than God himself. But, what would happen to the daughter of Spaceman Delaney, baseball legend with a gambling problem that bankrupted his family?

  Tears formed in my eyes and quickly made their way to my cheeks. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I knew my father had given me a good life, a magical life, but I wasn’t ready for it to end. Not just for me, what would happen to them now?

  “I’m truly sorry,” my mother said, her pain evident. “Here, I managed to save this.”

  Her hand extended, she waited for me to acknowledge her offering. My eyes drifted to her tightly clutched fingers and watched as she opened them to reveal a large, pink pear cut diamond ring. “My sweet sixteen ring,” I exclaimed, suddenly feeling my world lifting from my shoulders.

  “Shhh,” my mother warned, placing the ten-carat ring in my hand. It was extravagant, but that was my dad. He always wanted to give me the best, and this ring was the best.

  “You should be able to pay at least six months’ worth of bills with this.” Her eyes were warm and gracious. She was right. It would pay at least that, if not more. I could get a car, pay for my condo, or possibly downsize to something smaller and pay cash. That would get me by until I found a paying job.

  “Thank you, Mom.” I lunged toward her, scooping her into my arms and squeezing her with all my might.

  “What are you two ladies fussing about?” I quickly shoved the ring into my front pocket before releasing my mother and acknowledging my dad standing at the doorway.

  With the ring in my possession and my life feeling not so desolate as it once had, my anger toward him began to melt away. “What are you two going to do now?”

  Dad leaned against the door frame of my bedroom door. Mom sat down on my bed, smiling at me with an emptiness I’d never seen before. I perched my frame against the wide opening of my walk-in closet, waiting, hoping for an answer I could live with.

  “We have a condo. It’s small but still close to the action.” Small traces of remorse could be heard in my dad’s voice if you listened hard enough. “And, Kitty-Kat, we don’t want this news spreading all over the place,” he continued, remorse gone. “We’re just telling people we’ve downsized and plan to see the world. Who needs a big ole place like this when we’ll hardly ever be home?”

  As the delusion continued, I couldn’t hold back the emotion, and tears fell down my cheeks like a waterfall. My mother’s arms wrapped around me tightly, but the same comfort she’d offered earlier wasn’t there. I felt sick. I’d idolized this man. Millions of people idolized him. How could he let this happen?

  “I want you to have this,” he said softly, bringing his hands from behind his back. He held his "Most Valuable Player" award, a large plaque he’d proudly displayed in the game room for years. Aside from his World Series ring, it was his most valued possession. I felt uneasy about accepting such a gift.

  “No, I couldn’t.”

  “I want you to have it,” he insisted, continuing to hold it out.

  Mom released her grip on me. The plaque felt massive in my hands. I’d never held it, only admired it on the shelf in the game room where it and his other trophies were displayed with pride.

  “I’ll get everything back.”

  I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t believe anything right now.

  “He will, you’ll see,” my mother chimed in, defending him as usual.

  My hands quivered with the award. He really was the most valuable player. I missed those days. Not only for the money. The man standing in front of me right now was much different than the one hitting balls out of the stadium.

  I was certain my mother knew about his gambling problems early on, but I hadn’t. He’d done a fantastic job covering up his addiction, up until now. On the field, he was a God, commanding control of the ball, the other players, and always pushing himself past the limits of his talents. Even when my mom wasn’t able to go, Dad always took me to the games. I’d hang out in the general manager’s office while they practiced, watching from the closed circuit televisions. During the game, I’d have the best seats, often a skybox with some pretty impressive A-listers. The concession stands were aware of my father’s status, so I’d get anything I wanted. I felt like a princess, my father the king on the diamond.

  “Remember the World Series game?” he asked softly.

  I looked up, into the eyes that still held so much pride that they were breathtaking. I did remember. He was speaking of the last World Series, the one his team won. It was one of the best days of my life. I’d never forget it.

  “You were so excited, you grabbed me from my seat and carted me around the field on your shoulders.” I sighed at the memory.

  He chuckled. His eyes glazed over with emotion as they moved past me and onto the wall behind me. My mother stood, rubbed his arm softly with her delicate hand, staring at him with love and admiration.

  “We’ll get through this,” she whispered. Her dark green eyes fell on me. “We won’t let anyone know what’s happening right now. It’s only temporary anyway. No need to have the media or nosy acquaintances judging us.”

  Her stature was strong, her demeanor filled with a sudden strength. Janice Delaney, an aristocrat to her social circle, was not going to be displayed in such a poor light. No way, and neither would her husband or daughter. It was agreed without actually saying a word. I’d keep my mouth shut and pretend that all was well. Daddy doesn’t have a gambling problem that cost us our way of life, no sir, just downsizing.

  “Thanks, girls,” he said with a strange burst of confidence. He turned, winked at me, slapped my mother playfully on the ass and disappeared down the hall.

  “How long has this been going on?” I asked my mom once we were alone.

  She hesitated, sighing, and dropped her eyes to the floor.

  I knew she didn’t want to talk about it, but I deserved to know the truth. This was my life too. “Bobby’s always liked to gamble,” she said, finally looking me in the eye.

  I sat on my bed, carefully placing the award beside me. “Always?”

  “Yes. It started out with just a few bets here and there. Once he retired, he grew restless, I guess, needing something to keep him feeling alive,” she said sadly. “He’s a good man.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what? How was telling you, or anyone for that matter, going to help?”

  “I could’ve talked to him,” I argued.

  A soft sigh fell from her lips. She m
oved toward me, sitting on the bed next to me. Her arm offered warmth as it wrapped around my shoulders. “If I thought you could’ve stopped him, sure, I would’ve told you.”

  After being told of his addiction, I took notice of his behaviors. They were sporadic, sometimes manic. His downs were rough, but his ups were even more turbulent. Watching him spiral out of control while smiling, convincing himself that everything was going to be alright was heart wrenching.

  I sat in my room alone for a while, looking out the large window that overlooked our dozen acres of land, taking in the last of the familiar scent of my bedroom, and saying goodbye to the life I once knew. I was scared, terrified really. I had no idea what I was going to do on my own.

  “I have to get to work.” I sat on the window bench in the front room. My dad barked orders to the movers that had arrived, while my mother acted as if everything was normal.

  “You might want to think about a real job,” Dad scolded me with his all-knowing look.

  Ya think?

  I loved my internship at the radio station. It kept me busy, allowed me a social life, or at least the facade of one. My social media management career, if you could call an unpaid job that, was exciting, fast-paced, and I was learning how not only to make the radio station look good online, but myself as well.

  Most of my life was spent surrounded by baseball players, on the field and off. Friends were few and far between, and none of them ever really close. I liked being on the road with my dad, watching him on the field, getting the royal treatment for being Bobby “Spaceman” Delaney’s daughter.

  College wasn’t much different. Even though I was surrounded by kids my own age, I didn’t seem to have a lot in common with them. I worked all the time, studying, creating the school newsletter, and of course, keeping up the game, even though Dad retired during my freshman year. Five years, that’s all it took for him to lose everything he’d worked an entire life for.

  “About your condo,” my dad said quickly as the movers left with another large box.