Home Run
Heidi McLaughlin
New York Boston
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Heidi McLaughlin
Excerpt from Grand Slam Copyright © 2017 by Heidi McLaughlin
Cover illustration by Claudio Marinesco. Cover design by Elizabeth Turner. Cover copyright © 2017 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Forever
Hachette Book Group
1290 Avenue of the Americas
New York, NY 10104
forever-romance.com
twitter.com/foreverromance
Originally published in ebook by Forever in January 2017.
First Trade Edition: June 2017
Forever is an imprint of Grand Central Publishing.
The Forever name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
The Hachette Speakers Bureau provides a wide range of authors for speaking events. To find out more, go to www.hachettespeakersbureau.com or call (866) 376-6591.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
ISBN: 978-1-4555-9827-4 (trade pbk.), 978-1-4555-9828-1 (ebook)
E3-20161130-DA-PC
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1: Cooper
Chapter 2: Ainsley
Chapter 3: Cooper
Chapter 4: Ainsley
Chapter 5: Cooper
Chapter 6: Ainsley
Chapter 7: Cooper
Chapter 8: Ainsley
Chapter 9: Cooper
Chapter 10: Ainsley
Chapter 11: Cooper
Chapter 12: Ainsley
Chapter 13: Cooper
Chapter 14: Ainsley
Chapter 15: Cooper
Chapter 16: Ainsley
Chapter 17: Cooper
Chapter 18: Ainsley
Chapter 19: Cooper
Chapter 20: Ainsley
Chapter 21: Cooper
Chapter 22: Ainsley
Chapter 23: Cooper
Chapter 24: Ainsley
Chapter 25: Cooper
Chapter 26: Ainsley
Chapter 27: Cooper
Chapter 28: Ainsley
Chapter 29: Cooper
Chapter 30: Ainsley
Chapter 31: Cooper
Chapter 32: Ainsley
Chapter 33: Cooper
Chapter 34: Ainsley
Chapter 35: Cooper
Chapter 36: Ainsley
Chapter 37: Cooper
Epilogue: Cooper
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Heidi McLaughlin
A Preview of GRAND SLAM
Newsletter
To Gumpa,
I look forward to catching a game with you!
It’s time!
Spring training is upon us, fine folks in New England. While our Renegades head to Fort Myers and the faithful allegiance of fans follows, there are a few of us who will remain here in Boston. However, game stats and spring training updates will happen as usual.
It’ll be interesting to see what manager Cal Diamond does this year with both Steve Bainbridge and Cooper Bailey on the roster. You can’t go wrong with starting either of them, as both of their numbers last season were solid. Diamond has a tough decision ahead of him, that’s for sure, and so does general manager Stone, considering he’s fielding requests for a player trade that includes Bailey.
Expected to move into the starting catcher position is Jose Gonzalez, unless the off-season acquisition of Michael Cashman proves to be a better choice.
Be sure to watch for designated hitter Branch Singleton during spring training. The scuttlebutt around the clubhouse is that he’s been working out there daily, and the coaching staff is expecting his batting average to soar this season.
If you’re in Fort Myers and want to contribute to the BoRe Blog, please email us!
GOSSIP WIRE
Travis Kidd is still up to his old antics, and nothing seems to stop him. He was recently spotted at BU hitting up a sorority. Rumor has it, he was caught streaking by the Pub Safe patrol, but being a fan of his, they let him go.
The BoRe Blogger
Chapter 1
Cooper
Over the years I’ve had many dreams. I’m not talking about the ones you experience when you’re sleeping, but the kind of dreams that can become reality. When I was young, my mother passed away, leaving my father alone to raise me. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, except I probably didn’t experience everything I could have. To cope with the loss of my mother, my dad and I turned to baseball. We’d play catch in the yard every night before sitting down to dinner, which usually consisted of sandwiches or cereal.
Hours of tossing the ball around the backyard turned into fielding grounders, catching pop flies, and spending time in the batting cages. What started as a way for us to cope with our depression turned into something I really enjoyed doing, and when the scouts started paying attention, I began dreaming of the big leagues, the pomp and circumstance of playing in the majors. I dreamed of winning a national championship at a prized SEC school and running out of the dugout as my name was announced during the All-Star Game. When the Boston Renegades drafted me, my dreams started to become reality; the only thing standing in my way is Steve Bainbridge. The veteran center fielder was hinting at retirement last year, leaving the door open for me, which is part of the reason the Renegades went after me in the draft. At the end of last season, Bainbridge changed his mind, putting my spot on the team in limbo. Still, the organization called me up, and here I am, about to make my major league debut.
Now as I step out onto the wet field, my cleats sink into the dewy grass. I’m not supposed to be out here today, but I couldn’t resist the temptation. I’m so close, yet so far away, from starting my major league career.
Spring training is a rite of passage for any baseball player, but for a rookie like me, this is everything. When I arrived in Fort Myers, the itch to get out onto the field was something I had never experienced before.
I tilt my head back and let the early morning Florida sun warm my skin. In the distance, the sound of lawn mowers coming to life, the swooshing sound of the nets being raised behind home plate, and the smell of glove oil all surround me. There are a few things missing that would make this better, such as the smell of hot dogs and popcorn and the sounds of the fans gathering in their seats.
“Rookie, look at you being the first one out here.” Travis Kidd, our left fielder and someone I will have to work closely with, calls out to me as he steps onto the warning track. As the center fielder, I’m tasked with not only backing up numerous positions, but I must also have the ability to run fast and judge the depth of a ball. My high school coach once said that you could tell where a ball was going by the sound it made when it left the bat. He was probably right, and I’d love to do that now, except we use
wood bats and not aluminum. Switching from aluminum to a wooden bat took some getting used to. I had a faster swing in college and could smack the shit out of the ball. Now, the ball and bat have to hit just right, and you have really put some power behind your swing in order to get the same effect.
“He’s eager,” Bryce Mackenzie says. Mackenzie is in charge of second base, another position that I’ll have to work closely with.
Next to walk out of the dugout is Steve Bainbridge, who doesn’t even try to make eye contact with me as he steps onto the warning track. Being a fan of baseball makes me a fan of his, but right now he has the job that I want, and I’m here to take it from him.
Last year when I was called up, we had a team-wide meeting. Everyone was very nice, genuine in welcoming me to the club, well, everyone except for Steve Bainbridge. I get it. I do. In his eyes, I’m the enemy. I’m here to take his starting position and make him a “has-been.” Some call me unlucky because he’s a fan favorite, but I call it the luck of the draft. The general manager, Ryan Stone, chose me. He wanted me here to make a difference, to help lead the Renegades to the pennant.
Other team members start to filter out of the dugout. It’s six a.m. and time for us to start conditioning. I imagine our conditioning will be similar to that in the minors since they try to follow the same regimen.
“Morning,” Scotty Johnson, the Renegades trainer, says as he stands in front looking at each and every one of us with an evil glint. I’ve seen an expression like that before, on my college coach, and know it means there will be hell to pay today. The holiday beer guts are about to be a thing of the past. “I don’t know about you, but I feel like running today.”
No one says anything, because we know what’s coming.
“All right, here is what we’re going to start off with. Two laps around the field and into one hundred Superman planks followed by two more laps. When you’re done with that, you’re going to give me five-minute wall squats with a medicine ball between your knees and then one hundred burpees. This is on repeat until I say stop. Last year, you looked like shit. You were out of shape, and most of you couldn’t outrun a throw to first. This year, I’m going to make damn sure you’ll be able to.” He blows his whistle, and we’re off.
I’m confident that I’m one of the fastest players on the team, but I have to pace myself. The last thing I want to do is become gassed or piss anyone off. Branch Singleton is by far the quickest, and right now he’s all the way at the back of the pack. Everyone is paired off, except for me. I get it. I’m the outsider. Even Michael Cashman, who was acquired in the off-season, is running with another teammate.
“They’re a tough group, but keep your head up.” I take a sideways glance to see who’s running next to me. Ethan Davenport, the third baseman.
“You would know, right?”
“Yep. Rookie year is tough, even tougher for you because of their loyalty to Bainbridge.”
“Yeah, I’m sensing that. I guess I thought they’d see it wasn’t my choice?”
Ethan shakes his head and keeps stride with me. We’re both huffing and puffing by the time we finish our second lap.
“Everyone has a choice,” he says. I half expect him to leave me so he can go work out with his friends, but he doesn’t. He takes a spot on the grass next to me and starts his planks. “The thing is, Bainbridge is still hanging on. He’s going through some shit at home, and this is the place where he can escape.”
His marriage problems have been widely reported. My agent says I can use that to get into Bainbridge’s head and get him to mess up. Each screwup is an opportunity for me to take the starting spot. While the viewers and fans think baseball is about family, it’s not always that way. The more television time you have, the more sponsors you end up with. Sponsors are the way to supplement your income and prepare yourself for early retirement if you’re unlucky enough to have a career-ending injury.
Except that isn’t how I function. I want to play baseball and I want to play for the Renegades, but if they don’t need me, I’ll have no choice but to ask for a trade. The game has always been my priority.
“Have you moved to Boston yet?”
I grunt through my planks, finishing before Ethan does. I decide to wait for him so we can run together again.
“I haven’t yet. I started looking, but nothing has caught my eye. I’m not sure where I should look, either.”
“I went through the same thing when I first came to Boston. I rented for a bit before buying a condo. When we get back, you can stop by and check it out if you want. My wife won’t care if you crash for a few days.”
“Wife?” Ethan and I aren’t far apart in age, and I can guarantee you that a wife or girlfriend isn’t in my near future.
Ethan smiles. “Yeah, we got married after last season. She’s cool. You’ll like her.”
I shrug and continue my run. We catch up with a few of the other guys: Preston Meyers, who plays right field, and Kayden Cross, who covers first. Ethan keeps me in the conversation, and before I know it, I’m laughing right along with them. Minus the workout, I have to say today is shaping up.
* * *
“Here are your playbooks,” Cal Diamond says as he hands them out. There was some scuttlebutt last season that he was ill, but he looks healthy to me. I’m looking forward to playing for him.
“Also, we have some public relations matters that we need to take care of. The Major Leagues are pushing an initiative to give back to the communities, and Stone wants to start in Fort Myers.”
There’s a collective groan throughout the room. I’ve been doing this for a while, so I’m okay with whatever we have to do. In the minors, we set aside a few minutes here and there to sign autographs before and after the game. Some of the kids there can’t afford the big-league prices so we try to make it special for them.
“Later this week, we’ll be giving a tour to some kids at the zoo. I know most of you haven’t been to the zoo here, so the best thing to do is to let the kids guide you. There will be ample time for autographs and pictures. It’s just one of those things you have to deal with. You’ll have lunch with the kids and end the day with a photo op with the staff. The zoo is closed to the public when we go, so you won’t need to worry about people tagging along that shouldn’t be there.
“Another event you’ll be doing is senior prom.”
This time, the groans are louder. Diamond smiles and shakes his head.
“Wrong kind of prom. This senior prom will be held at the community center, and it’s for the residents of the retirement home. Now just because they’re of age doesn’t mean there will be drinking. I don’t care what they try to slip you. You’re expected to dance, talk baseball, and entertain. I’ve been to a few; they’re fun. You just need to remember that the people attending probably haven’t done this type of thing in a long time.
“And don’t forget about the charity golf tournament. You’re all expected to be there.”
Diamond continues to go on about the expectations while in Fort Myers, how he has an open door policy, and reminds us that we take the field in two weeks. It’s crazy to think, but all-day conditioning and practicing will get us ready for preseason play. Everything else we’ll fix along the way.
“Before you leave tonight, don’t forget to pick up your uniforms. This year, we’ll be wearing three different hats instead of the normal two. And don’t forget your autograph sessions. Your schedule is in your binder.”
I flip through the binder as everyone gets up to leave. I look around and find the other rookies doing the same thing. We’re in this boat together, even if we’re miles apart on the playing field.
“Hey, rookie?” I look up at the sound of Davenport’s voice. “We’re heading to dinner. Do you want to come?”
The truth is, no, I don’t. I’d rather go back to the apartment and learn the plays, but to tell him no would be foolish.
“Yeah, of course,” I say, scrambling to gather my things.
&nbs
p; Chapter 2
Ainsley
“Do you miss this?”
Glancing over at Bruce and seeing a smile that likely matches mine answers his question. It’s only a matter of seconds before I turn my gaze back to the fifteen-foot cow who is pacing her sawdust-laden stall, waiting for her first calf to be born. I have been anticipating this moment since I first thought Jambo was pregnant. Later, an ultrasound confirmed what I and my co-workers thought: We were going to have a calf among our giraffe population. That was almost thirteen months ago, and so much as has changed for me since.
“I do. I miss being with them so much. The giraffes have always been my favorite. Even in college, I found myself focusing on them, their habitat, and their interaction with humans.” About the time Jambo’s pregnancy was announced, I had to step down from my job as a zookeeper due to the long hours and always being on call. It wasn’t an easy decision, but my mother is fighting cancer, and it’s more important that I’m there for her. Still, it’s times like this when I truly miss my job, even though I still hold a position in the front office of the zoo. Being hands-on with the animals, particularly the giraffes, is my passion.
“Thank you for calling me, Bruce,” I say, focusing my attention on Jambo. I knew she was due to give birth, and when Bruce called to tell me that she had started pacing, I raced down here, not caring that it was two in the morning and thankful that my mother’s part-time in-home nurse agreed to come when I needed her. I didn’t want to miss this experience.
“You deserve to be here, Ainsley. Jambo is your baby.”
He’s right, she is. She was over a year old when she came to live at the zoo, and it took us a while to bond, but once we did, I could call for her from across the yard and she’d trot over to me. This proves especially fruitful when I occasionally volunteer to lead the feeding sessions. Even though I can enter their sanctuary at any time, sometimes it’s better for me to try to distance myself, yet I can’t always stay away.
Home Run Page 1
