A familiar Jack, Jack, Jack chant filled the stadium as my guy stepped into the batter’s box. I’ve always loved watching him play, but there’s a whole new element to it now that we’re involved. He rested the bat on his shoulder and watched the pitcher shake off signs with narrowed eyes. As the pitcher and catcher finally came to an agreement, Jack settled into his stance.
After checking the runners one last time, the pitcher faced the plate and, from the stretch, sent a fastball hurling toward Jack. Literally. The ball sailed toward his head and he hit the ground just before it hit him.
The crowd yelled and booed as Jack stared the pitcher down and slowly stood, refusing to dust himself off. I learned early on that the latter is a thing they do, or don’t do as the case may be, to show they’re not shaken. Not rubbing the spot after getting hit by the pitch says the same thing. Men are funny creatures, for sure.
After watching the pitcher and catcher go through the same routine as before, Jack once again settled into his batting stance. Another fastball sailed toward the plate, but this one was right in Jack’s sweet spot. His whole body seemed to tense just before he stepped and swung, bringing the entire stadium to its feet at the crack of the bat as he sent the ball flying in a high arc into the upper deck behind left field.
He ran around the bases and stepped on home plate a few steps behind John. The players greeted Jack with their various high fives, chest bumps, and whatever else they use to celebrate a home run. The crowd continued to cheer and chant his name as he stepped down into the dugout. After a few seconds, he reappeared at the top of the dugout stairs and tipped his hat. Before stepping back inside, his gaze met mine over the sea of fans and his smile widened. Setting the cap on his head, he disappeared back into the dugout.
“My father said he had a meeting with you and Jack earlier.”
Despite all the noise surrounding me, I jumped when Kenny spoke. I was so focused on Jack, I’d totally forgotten he was standing next to me.
“We did.”
I’m not sure what Mr. Hanover shared and I don’t plan on volunteering anything.
Kenny shifted onto one elbow, turning slightly toward me.
“When I first met Holly, it was pretty clear that her career was the most important thing in her life. Over the years, it seemed like that had changed and she led me to believe I ranked at least as high, if not higher, than her work. But if that were the case, she’d be here now.”
He stood up straight and put his hands in his pockets.
“I like you, Hannah. You’re a good person and an excellent employee.”
“What, exactly, are you saying, Kenny?”
“People don’t change,” he said. “They might mix things up for a while, maybe try something new, but eventually end up going back to their comfort zone.” He glanced at the field at the crack of the bat and watched the designated hitter, Philip Riddle, get thrown out at first base. “You’ve known Jack for ten years. You know how he’s lived. Just be careful. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
Then, after vocalizing my deepest fear, he walked away.
Chapter 31
Jack
I stretched across the bed and clicked on the TV. After flipping through the usual ridiculous reality shows, I finally found a keeper. Charlie Sheen had just knocked the head off a wooden batter with a fastball when I settled on Major League. At this point, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen this movie, but it doesn’t matter, I’ll still watch it anytime it’s on. It’s a classic.
We’re in day five of an eight-day road trip and I’ll admit I miss Hannah. I figured I would, but didn’t anticipate how much. The guys had a good laugh about it during dinner. Dan said I looked “mopey” and “pathetic.” I don’t know about that, but I do know that my days aren’t the same without her. Besides, it’s not like he’s much better.
My phone beeped and, as if my thoughts conjured her, Hannah’s beautiful face filled the screen. I swiped and her image came to life.
“Hey you.”
“Hey yourself,” she said. “Great game today. How’s the arm?”
“Not too bad.” I tilted the phone to show her the ball-shaped bruise on my bicep from a wild hop. I’d managed to keep it in front of me and throw the runner out, but I’ll admit, it hurt like hell for the rest of the game.
“What lovely colors, and I love how you can see the imprint from the stitches. It really adds something.” I moved the phone back so I could see her face. Her brow furrowed as she added, “But seriously, does it hurt?”
“Not more than any other bruise. It’ll be fine,” I said. “How was your day? Where’d you and Mrs. Button go to dinner?”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “I went to Dino’s with Mrs. Button and her friends. If you think the team gets rowdy, they have nothing on those ladies.”
“The same ones that come to the games?”
“No, that’s her book club. These were the ladies she quilts with.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “A couple glasses of wine in and no topic was off limits. I know way more than I want to about their sex lives, past and present.”
I don’t know the ladies she’s talking about, but if they’re anything like Mrs. Button, I imagine the conversation was pretty interesting.
“Learn anything?” I raised my brow. “Hear anything you’d like to try?” She rolled her eyes and then her face disappeared and I found myself looking at her ceiling. “Where’d you go? I’m just curious. Those ladies are a lot older than me, have a lot more experience.”
The room seemed to bounce up and down, then the phone tilted and Hannah’s face filled the screen again. She’d settled onto her side, her head resting against a pillow.
“I doubt that, but they did have a lot to share.” She adjusted her glasses and scooched down further into the pillow. “And of course, they all love you and were asking all kinds of questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“First they were asking about the book. Apparently they’ve all read it. I shut that down pretty fast when I told them that I haven’t read it and have no intention of doing so.” Her eyes shifted to the side for a second before looking directly at me again. “Then Mrs. Button alluded to the fact that we’re involved and they pounced. When I wouldn’t give even a hint about our sex life or what you look like naked, they took it upon themselves to discuss the intimate details of their lives in great detail. I think they were hoping I’d feel compelled to join in.” She yawned and pushed her glasses back into place. “I didn’t, in case you’re wondering,”
“How’d they take that?”
“After trying to convince me to at least take a picture of you in just boxer briefs to share with them, they tried to outdo each other with their own stories.” Rolling onto her back, she added, “I had a lot of fun listening to them, but good Lord, there are some things I’d rather keep private.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll feel differently when I’m their age.”
“So you’re not one to kiss and tell?”
“Nope. Your kisses are safe with me.”
I know she’s being silly, but her words still settle deep in my heart and fill it with reassurance. I’m a private person. And, despite the fact that my chosen career has me in the public eye, I’ve managed to keep most of my private life out of it until recently. I didn’t enjoy my time in that spotlight and really wouldn’t want a repeat. It’s good to know I’m with someone who feels the same.
“Good to know,” I said, speaking part of that last thought out loud. I turned onto my side and propped the phone on the pillow next to me and just looked at her.
“Everything okay?” she asked, picking up on my mood change.
I nodded. “Nothing that being in the same room as you won’t fix. I miss you.” Her lips curled into a shy smile as a blush spread up her neck and across her cheeks.
“I miss you, too,” she said. “But it’s only three more days and then you’re here for a ten-day home stretch.”
<
br /> “I can’t wait.”
The game had started after a two-hour rain delay, and quickly turned into a pitcher’s duel. There’d only been three hits in nine innings...two for the Waves and the other for New York...but none produced a run. A night game on the last day of a road trip is not when you want to go into extra innings, but here were are.
All hell broke loose for both teams as both of our bullpens had trouble finding the strike zone. A few walks and a couple hits later, we found ourselves tied 2-2 in the top of the thirteenth inning. Oskar Marquez managed to pop a little flare between second base and right field and ended up on first base. After Kasprzyk’s perfectly executed sacrifice bunt, Oskar stood in scoring position for me as I stepped into the box.
The pitcher narrowed his eyes at me before turning to his catcher for the sign. To someone else, he might look intimidating, but I know the mental game as well as the physical. And I also know that he only has two decent pitches...a fastball and a slider. According to his stats, he also has a changeup, but nine times out of ten, it ends up in the dirt when he throws it.
I tightened my grip on the bat and settled into my stance, blocking out the screams of the crowd. The pitcher hurled the ball toward the plate. To me it looked low and outside, but the umpire had a different opinion. Other than glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, I didn’t react. I learned a long time ago that arguing balls and strikes just pisses the umpire off.
I stepped out of the box and stretched my shoulders and neck then, putting the previous pitch out of my mind, got back in to be ready for the next one. It looked identical to the last, but this time the umpire called it a ball. The next pitch was a changeup and, following the odds, it was in the dirt. A foul ball and a high pitch later, I had a full count.
The catcher ran out to the mound and while they talked, I met the third base coach, Jeff Clopton, halfway down the line.
“You know what you’re looking for here?” he asked.
I looked out at the mound and tightened one batting glove then the other before turning my attention back to Jeff.
“I’m thinking fastball.”
“Me too.” He smiled, revealing crooked teeth. “Be ready for it.”
The crowd started its familiar chant as everyone got back into position. Stepping back into the box, I tuned them out once again. Settling back into my stance, I waited. As soon as the ball left his hand, I knew it was my idea of a perfect pitch, a waist-high fastball right down the middle of the plate.
Tightening my grip on the bat I swung and felt the vibration as it connected with the ball. Finishing the swing, I still felt the contact humming through by body as I dropped the bat and ran toward first base as I watched the ball sail in a high arc toward left-center field. I was rounding the bag as it dropped into the crowd for a two-run homer.
A blend of cheers and boos from the crowd echoed through the stadium as I jogged around the bases. I rounded third and saw my teammates waiting for me and as I crossed home plate, they walked me toward the dugout with a series of back slaps, chest bumps, and high fives.
I chugged a cup of water and leaned against the railing to watch the rest of the inning.
Riddle flew out to center for the second out, but Dan kept our half of the inning going with a line drive double over the shortstop’s head. Cal stepped into the box and after falling quickly into an 0-2 count, he fouled off four pitches before sending a ground ball between short and third, putting runners on the corners as Monte stepped up to bat. He swung at the first pitch and ended the inning with a groundout to second.
I grabbed my glove and ran out to shortstop, followed by my teammates. Monte tossed me a practice ball and I scooped it up and threw it back to him as Malik Walters warmed up. Our closer is one of the best in the league and I have confidence he’ll shut this down now so we can all go home.
That last thought had just left my head as the first batter stepped up to the plate. Malik’s first two pitches were a bit wide, but he finally found the strike zone with the third. The fourth pitch was well placed, but the batter still managed to get his bat squarely on it and send it sailing over the short porch in right field.
That rattled Malik just enough that he walked the next batter. New York quickly sent in a pinch runner, obviously geared to steal.
After sitting out a couple games to nurse a sore knee, Xander McKay is back behind the plate tonight. He called timeout and ran out to the mound, to give Malik a minute to settle down.
“You got this,” I yelled when X ran back to position. “Let’s go!”
I kept half an eye on the runner at first as Malik released the ball toward the plate. The batter swung at the pitch as the runner took off for second. X threw a perfect rope to me, but the guy’s foot hit the bag a split second before I slapped him with the tag. I shook my head when Elmer looked at me to see if the play should be reviewed. There’s not a doubt in my mind the guy was safe.
Every player has an occasional bad night, and unfortunately tonight is Malik’s. It’s not that he’s horrible, his stuff just isn’t as sharp as usual. The next batter hit a ground ball to third. Cal looked the runner on second back before throwing over to first, getting us the first out.
The stadium vibrated with noise and energy as the crowd screamed, cheered, and chanted. It took extra concentration to tune them out as the next batter worked his way to a full count before hitting a pop fly toward the third base line. Running at full speed toward the ball, I saw Shawn Riggs doing the same from left field. The ball kept carrying toward the stands and I slowed to a jog, resigned to the fact this would not be the coveted second out of the inning. Riggs must have come to the same conclusion because he slowed down, too. I watched in horror as Cal continued running at full speed then reached out his glove and caught the ball just as he approached the wall. His momentum sent him sailing into the stands head first. The crowd went silent as he landed on the concrete, the top half of his body wedged under the seats.
I jumped over the wall and pushed my way through the fans surrounding Cal, followed by Riggs. Cal looked up at me and struggled to move.
“Sit tight,” I said, but he wasn’t having it. Leaning onto his right arm, he shifted and I helped him into a sitting position. As the medical crew raced over, he held his glove up high, with the ball squeezed tightly inside. Even the New York fans clapped when they saw the movement.
Blood dripped from his eye and ear, pooling into the neckline of his shirt.
“You’re a crazy son of a bitch, you know that?”
Cal smiled at my words and cringed, then investigated his fat lip with the tip of his tongue.
I stepped aside to let the professionals do their thing. Cal refused to get on the board they brought and instead, with their help, stood and leaned against the back of a seat. It was pretty obvious he was in a lot of pain and just wanted to get out of sight.
Riggs and I followed as the medical crew flanked him on all sides and guided him through the seats to the gate that led onto the field. We walked toward our positions and they continued to the dugout as the entire crowd chanted Cal’s name. That’s an extraordinary thing to happen in another team’s stadium. Cal waved as he stepped inside then disappeared into the tunnel.
Mitch O’Moore grabbed his glove and ran out to third base. I paced along the grass and looked out at the stands as Monte threw a few warm up ground balls to him. More fans had their faces in cell phones than were looking at the field. I’m sure videos of Cal’s leap into the stands are already flooding social media.
Once Mitch was warmed up, everyone got back into position and the umpire stepped behind the plate and called the next batter up. Malik got ahead with two strikes then followed with two balls just outside the zone. The crowd was on its feet, screaming as the next pitch went sailing toward the left field fence. Thankfully it hooked foul.
Mixing it up, X called for a changeup and was given a perfect one. The hitter’s swing was way ahead, but he managed to graze the ball, sending i
t into the ground just behind the plate.
Malik walked around the mound talking to himself. I know from past experience, he’s giving himself a pep talk. He grabbed the rosin bag and threw it back to the ground before stepping back toward the rubber. After taking the sign, he looked the runner back, then threw a fastball toward the plate just inside the outside corner. I watched the batter swing and heard the crack of the bat a split second after I saw it sail toward the gap in right-center field.
Since there are two outs, the runner took off on contact and was rounding third while Dan and John were still tracking the ball. It looked like New York was going to tie the score when Dan dove and snagged the ball just before it hit the ground. It peeked over the edge of the webbing as he slid to a stop. Jumping to his feet, he held the glove high as he ran toward the infield.
The entire bench cleared and ran onto the field and we all met on the mound in a heap of back slaps, high fives, and chest bumps. Endorphins from the win gave us a shit-ton of energy but I know that won’t last. I just want to hit the showers and get the fuck out of here and home to Hannah.
Chapter 32
Hannah
I know I should be paying attention to the ceremony. After all, it’s not every day your father and best friend get married, right? But instead, my gaze keeps sliding to the man next to me. After four months, you’d think my hormones would have settled down some, but they seem to be just as out of control as ever where Jack is concerned.
At the sound of my father’s world-famous voice, I turned to face the happy couple, who are now exchanging vows. It’s still bizarre that Mel is going to be my stepmother, but I have to admit, they look happy. And despite the odd situation, I know she loves truly loves him for the man he is and not his money, celebrity, or movie persona.
Waste of Handsome (Carolina Waves #2) Page 26
