Extra Innings

by Michelle Lynn

  The sadness creeps in. The questions arise. Should I have allowed him to talk to me? Am I being stupid? But we agreed that it was a summer fling. His friends were gone for the summer, and I wanted nothing but to forget. Damn it if Braxton Brentwood allowed me to forget. He pushed everything down so far that my life before him is a fuzzy memory.

  I shake my head, fist my keys, and climb out of my car. Olivia, the girlfriend’s, giggle rings out as soon as I step through our back door.

  Delaney is in the kitchen, pouring us each a glass of Diet Coke. She flips her blonde hair off her shoulder, her eyes silently telling me to mind my manners.

  “Cade!” I scream, my voice a little too authoritative.

  “Hold up!” he yells back.

  Olivia’s giggling continues.

  “He’s probably trying to get dressed,” Delaney says, trying to ignite a reaction out of me.

  Sure enough, he walks in a second later, and he’s buttoning his pants, his shirt inside out.

  “Jesus, Cade,” I say, piling the bags onto the table.

  “Get off my case, Ainsley.” He steps up to a bag, digging in to see if I bought him something.

  “Um, those are ours.” Delaney weaves between him and the table, stopping any access.

  He peers over her head, and his eyes light up. “You’re such a great cousin.” He kisses her cheek, his hand sneaking behind her. He grabs the Peanut Butter M&M’s and runs into the other room.

  “Cade!” Delaney yells.

  I shake my head, shrugging off my coat and hanging it up on a hook along with my scarf.

  “I bought the bag for him,” I comment.

  She shoots me a disapproving look, saying that I’m such a sucker.

  My brother hasn’t had the best life. I have a soft spot for him, and I want him to be able to have a future. I just wish it were with someone who wasn’t going to leave him at the end of the year. Olivia comes from money and her dad has mentioned more than once that he has expectations for her own future.

  “Let’s go to my room,” I say.

  She grabs the two drinks. I tuck my cell phone into my back pocket and swing my arms through the opening of the bags. We walk through the family room where Cade is already snuggled under a blanket with Olivia. Her eyes catch me first, and the smile leaves her lips. Not that she’s scowling at me, but she’s uncomfortable around me. Well, I like it that way. She needs to respect me like she would a parent.

  “Hey, Olivia,” I say, breezing by the room.

  Delaney stops and sits for a second.

  Olivia’s attention perks up, and she smiles at Delaney. They’re only a year apart, so it’s not exactly unlikely that they would have stuff in common.

  “So, what did you guys do tonight?” Delaney asks.

  Cade turns up the volume of the television.

  “We went to see that new race movie,” Olivia says, shrugging as though indifferent.

  “More of a guy flick?” Delaney continues the conversation.

  I clear my throat. Delaney glances over to me at the bottom of the stairs and stands, shooting an apologetic look to Olivia.

  “Oh, yeah, we’re having a Friends marathon tonight,” she excitedly says, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  Man, how quickly she’s recovered from Derek. How I envy her.

  “Cade, can I speak to you for a second?” I ask as Delaney passes me to go upstairs.

  “Why?” he asks, the remote still in his hand.

  “Cade.”

  I was able to develop a tone of voice early that told Cade not to mess with me in that moment. As usual, it works, and he flips the blanket off of him before trudging toward me. I step back to privately talk with him without Olivia’s ears.

  “What?” His body stiffens like a teenager being questioned about sex.

  “I don’t need to remind you that you’d better be using protection. The last thing you want is to get her pregnant.”

  “No need for the birds and the bees talk.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

  I can’t believe how big he’s getting. His muscles are so much more defined than last year. His neck is thicker, too. Oh, how he resembles Dad.

  “Well, I’d rather have you safe than end up a teenage dad. I’m not condoning it, but there are condoms in the nightstand.” It takes every ounce of my energy and self-respect to tell him this.

  Should I declare him to be abstinent? Damn right I should, but he wouldn’t listen. So, I supply him with what he needs to make sure he won’t be a dad until he’s absolutely ready.

  “Okay”—he rolls his eyes—“but I can buy my own.”

  Ew. Seriously, the thought of him actually having sex brings a shiver to my body, let alone the visual of him buying condoms.

  “Just please use the right head.”

  I plead with my eyes, and his soften toward me.

  His arms drop the defensive stance. “No worries.” He leans in close. “I’m a big boy,” he says.

  I nod, and he walks back to Olivia.

  I watch him cozy up to her, and he places the blanket over his lap. He leans in and kisses her temple. I admire the two kids as they live carefree, enjoying one another with no expectations.

  “Olivia, make sure you aren’t late for curfew,” I say.

  Her eyes fly to me. “I will, Ainsley,” she quickly replies.

  I walk up the stairs, knowing I should treat her so much better than I do.

  3

  Brax

  “Fuck this.” I plop down in a chair at Ridgemont High School.

  “I think this is a good thing,” Crosby says next to me. He smiles down at his phone, no doubt at something Ella texted.

  “You’re a kiss-ass.”

  He glances over and then concentrates on his phone again, his thumbs flying across the screen.

  “Imagine what we would have done if college players had taken the time to come down to our high school. You have to put yourself in their shoes.” Crosby tucks his phone into his pocket and sits up, waiting for Coach Lipton. He’s new to the team this year and thinks he’s on some sort of probation or something.

  Crosby’s had a rough few years, and I can’t help but think his optimism on anything baseball is because, the last two years, he was a hermit, playing junior college ball.

  “Yeah. Remember when we wrote that letter to the White Sox?”

  He laughs, knocking his elbow into my side.

  “You got a letter back from A.J. Pierzynski.”

  We shake our heads at our ten-year-old selves who dreamed to become a pro player.

  “Now, you might just be him next year.” He smiles and raises his eyebrows in question.

  I huff.

  The draft is a thought that is never far from my mind, one that I’ve written a zillion pro and con lists for. Now, usually, I’m a straight arrow. I know what I want, and there’s no wavering back and forth, but with this decision, it’s like I’ve been teetering over a barbed wire fence.

  “You putting your name in?” Crosby asks, his eyes focused ahead instead of looking directly at me.

  Crosby and I have been back in contact for only six months, and a small part of me doesn’t want to leave him. That’s a con on my list. I missed him for those two years he was running away from his problems, and since he’s returned, we’ve gotten back into our best-friends groove. It’s nice to be with someone who loved Noah, the third in our high school group, as much as me. Add on the fact that I’m only one year away from getting my degree.

  “I have no idea.” I lean back and widen my legs, not in the mood to rehash this conversation.

  “I have to admit, I’m surprised,” Crosby continues this conversation I really don’t want to have.

  One damn thing is for sure since he’s gotten back; he’s always wanting to talk out his feelings and shit even though I tell him that I don’t need a counselor.

  “Yeah?” I say, not really looking to gain his perspective.

  “Well, ever since
we were kids, you were the one who wanted it more than me and Noah.”

  My head whips around. “You did, too,” I accuse.

  He holds up his hands. “Yeah, and I do, but it was different with you. You were the one who we thought would make it.” He shifts in his seat. “Maybe because I had Ella and Noah had Kedsey.” He shrugs, his eyes continuing to concentrate forward.

  Noah had been our other best friend. Sadly, our senior year, he died in a car accident with Kedsey. Hence, Crosby’s disappearance. And, hence, me missing him.

  “Well, I guess I grew up.” I cock my neck back and forth, the conversation causing all my muscles to cramp.

  He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m just curious as to why you’re holding off now. I mean, what is the argument in your head?” Crosby is relentless.

  I want to tell him he’s picked up too many therapists’ antics.

  “Are you not entering next year?” I throw the question back to him because he has every intention on entering the draft after college.

  “Hell yeah, but you know I want my degree first.”

  “That wasn’t always the case,” I remind him.

  He toyed with the idea of entering the draft right out of high school.

  “Priorities change. Ella is my number one now, and baseball is number two.” There’s no quiver in his voice, no ounce of uncertainty.

  Damn if I’m not envious of his admission of where Ella stands in his life. But, besides the two years they spent apart, they were the high school couple destined to stay together, the ones you knew would show up at the reunion with their hands still lingering on one another and stolen love-crossed glances across the room.

  “Well, maybe priorities have changed for me,” I offer.

  He scoffs, and his head falls back in laughter. “Believe me, I’m the first person who wants you to find someone, but truth is, I’m not sure you’re meant for commitment.”

  Coach Lipton and another man enter the gym.

  I sit up straighter. “What the hell does that mean?” My voice is way too accusatory.

  Crosby crosses his arms and looks over to me. “Look at the rotating girls coming in and out of your room.” He raises his eyebrows.

  I turn my eyes away from him. He has a point.

  Ella told me once, we all dealt with Noah’s and Kedsey’s deaths differently. Crosby retreated, she withdrew, and I acted as though everything was the same when it wasn’t. Inside, I missed Noah and then, when Crosby left, I could barely fight the struggle to get out of bed or move on. When I started college, I threw myself into relationships with the guys on the team to fulfill the emptiness I had been left with. It worked until Crosby returned six months ago. Somehow, I remembered what true friendship was about, and I feel like that scab from losing Noah and Kedsey is finally healing.

  Crosby says nothing else, and I don’t respond. I can’t refute the point. Since he’s been back, I’ve had a new girl almost every Friday and Saturday night. Most don’t even stay until morning.

  “Okay, boys.” Coach Lipton makes his presence known with his bellowing voice that echoes in the gym.

  All the high school boys are sitting on chairs to the right of us. There are some whispers from a few, pointing out who each of us are.

  “Braxton,” Coach calls me up.

  Responsibilities of the captain.

  I stand and walk over to him before shaking hands with the high school coach.

  “This is Braxton Brentwood, team captain for the Ridgemont Tigers.”

  Everyone nods. They know this already.

  The high school coach steps forward. “Cade.” He waves to a kid in the front row.

  He’s got jet-black hair that’s way too long to play ball with. His eyes glance my way, and my heart clenches. I move my hand to my chest and try to rub away whatever it is, but the pain persists.

  He walks up and shakes hands with Coach Lipton.

  “This is Cade Winslow,” the high school coach introduces me to the kid.

  Winslow?

  It can’t be.

  Matching dark hair.

  Matching gray eyes.

  Holy shit. He has to be related.

  I rack my brain for anytime she told me last summer that she knew someone who played ball. I mean, that’s definitely something I’d have remembered.

  “You two will be paired up,” Coach Lipton inserts.

  I eye the kid. A huge smile emerges on his face, saying he has an idea who the hell I am.

  He holds out his hand in front of me, and I shake it.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say.

  He nods. “You, too.”

  “You’re a catcher?” I clarify because I think we’re supposed to be teamed up according to position.

  “Yeah.”

  I nod, rolling back on my heels. “Cool.”

  The two coaches read from their lists and grab boys, pairing them together. Crosby is chatting away with his guy. Ollie is ignoring his guy. Saucedo is bragging about himself. Everyone else seems to be in a conversation with their little.

  “How long have you been playing?” I ask the guy whose eye-level with me. But what I really want to ask him is about Ainsley and how she’s been doing.

  “Let’s cut the shit.” His voice is low, and he’s not really looking at me, so his sentence throws me off guard.

  “What?”

  “I know you messed around with my sister last summer. I might have been away for most of it, but I have eyes in this town.”

  Shit, is this kid seriously trying to act like he has more clout in Ridgemont than I do?

  “You’re Ainsley’s brother?” I clarify that I remember his sister’s name, meaning she wasn’t some quick fuck in my book.

  He cowers slightly, drawing back for a moment, before his shoulders straighten, and he stands tall again. “I am.”

  I put my hand out in between us to be introduced properly. “Sorry, she never told me that her brother played ball.”

  He shakes my hand firmer than necessary, but I like the kid for sticking up for his sister. Maybe she’s doing okay then.

  “I think there are a lot of things she probably didn’t tell you,” Cade says.

  But I can’t imagine what. “To clarify—”

  He holds his hand up in the air. “No need to say more. I like to keep my sister’s sex life in a closed box with about a hundred nails hammered through it.”

  I chuckle and tuck my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “Understandable.”

  Although I don’t have a sister, I know the feeling; I don’t care to hear about my brother’s sex life either.

  And the silence commences.

  We each stand there, waiting to hear what exactly this mentoring program is supposed to accomplish. I mean, it’s January, and the season doesn’t even start for a few months.

  What seems like a lifetime later, the coaches round up all the players.

  “So, this is the first mentor program. We’ve realized the high school students are about to either be recruited or have already decided on a college. The Ridgemont players can help guide the high school players. Think of them as counselors. Plus, I’d like my players to work with the high school players in some capacity of baseball once a week—whether that be going to the cages or working on fielding. Teach them something you’ve learned while playing college ball.” Coach Lipton nods.

  He’s such a go-getter. It is awesome, but at the same time, it’s a pain in my ass, especially when I’m paired with the brother of the girl I screwed around with last summer. A girl whom I felt more than indifference for. Now, I’m mentoring that brother. How can I guide him?

  “You’re dismissed,” he says.

  “How about I give you my phone number?” I pull out my phone from my back pocket, and he does the same.

  We exchange numbers.

  “Okay, let me know when you have a free day this week.” I tuck my phone in my pocket and grab my car keys.

  “All right,” he murmurs, re
ading over his phone.

  “See ya.” I walk away, meeting Crosby and Ollie midway in the gym so that we can get the hell out of this high school.

  “How’s yours?” Ollie asks. “Mine thinks he’s some king left-hander.”

  Crosby laughs. “Mine was good. All third basemen are awesome.” His smile shows he’s not serious.

  “Mine has an attitude,” I comment.

  They whip their heads my way, but I don’t elaborate.

  Crosby wasn’t around last summer, so he doesn’t know Ainsley and Ollie, well, he never has been one to delve into people’s shit.

  He glances back to Cade. “I’m not sure what we’re supposed to teach them. Stand on a base, and catch the fucking ball.” Ollie turns around and walks backward, his legs so much longer than ours as he strides in front of us.

  “Hey, Brax!” Cade’s voice booms through the gym as I’m at the exit door.

  I turn around, and he’s slowly jogging toward me. His footsteps slow to a walk, the nearer he gets.

  “Hey, I got Ella outside.” Crosby fist-bumps me.

  “Can I hitch a ride?” Ollie asks.

  “Can you fit in the backseat of her car?” Crosby jokes to our six foot five first baseman.

  “From what I remember, yeah.”

  I shake my head at his insinuation that he’s been with Ella.

  Crosby’s nostrils flare until Ollie puts him in a headlock and gives him a noogie.

  “See you at home, Brax,” they both say in unison.

  Soon, I’m left with Cade in front of me.

  Thanks for leaving me, jackasses.

  “I need a favor,” he says, his lips in a straight line.

  “So soon? This mentor thing is swell,” I say, enticing not even a chuckle from Cade.

  “I need a ride home.”

  I nod and head out of the gym for him to follow.

  “I assume you remember the way?” he asks.

  If this kid belonged to anyone but Ainsley, I’d knock those cocky words out of his mouth.

  “Keep it up, and I’ll put you in the bed of the truck.” I don’t look up because I honestly don’t give a shit. I’m positive, anything I do will not win this kid over, not that I should care. It was his sister who broke me, not the other way around.