Extra Innings

by Michelle Lynn

  “Did you miss a pill?”

  That sentence earns me a deep, dark stare that would have most guys shitting in their pants.

  “I just don’t understand. I thought it would be a nice gesture to invite you to come with me. I thought you’d love to see the campus and the city you want to live in.”

  She stops moving. Her clothes fall to the floor, and her arms fall to her sides. She looks deflated; like she just went ten rounds with the heavyweight champion of the world.

  “What is it?” I stand and take her hand in mine, squeezing.

  She blinks and looks up at me. “I have to tell you something.” A tear trickles down her cheek.

  “Okay.”

  A loud boom hits the door, and Crosby’s on the other side, “Brax, get out here. Saucedo just got arrested.”

  I glance to the door and then focus down on her.

  “What is it?” I press.

  “Nothing that can’t wait.” She bends down and picks up her clothes. She starts stepping into her jeans.

  “Are you sure? Saucedo can rot if there’s something you need to tell me.” I don’t move. Instead, I stand there, naked, with her hand in mine.

  “Positive.”

  Crosby pounds his fist again. “Coach just called. They called Coach.” His voice rises to a panic.

  I release a breath. I’m not sure this can wait, but it doesn’t seem like tonight is the night to push her either. “Okay.”

  I run over to the dresser and pull out some clothes.

  “Stay here,” I tell her.

  “Brax!” Crosby yells.

  “I’ll be right there!” I scream back.

  “I’m going to head home, but text me later, okay?” she says while putting her shirt over her head.

  When I open the door to the hallway, Crosby and Ollie are dressed and ready to go.

  “What did he do?”

  “Jen had him arrested for stalking,” Crosby says.

  Ollie shakes his head.

  “Those two should have their own fucking reality show,” I say, ushering Ainsley to follow them down the stairs.

  Crosby, Ollie, and I walk into the Ridgemont Jail. Not exactly where Coach wants us to be on a Wednesday night at ten o’clock. The police officers are busy, chatting with one another, none of them doing too much work.

  Like I said, it’s Wednesday in a college town. I’m positive that these police officers earn their money Thursday through Sunday morning.

  Crosby approaches the desk. “We’re here to bail out Tyler Saucedo.”

  The male cop almost sneers a cocky grin that he’s happy he finally locked one of us behind bars. Not sure what that does for him, but the shared look with the officer behind him says he’s enjoying this.

  “Sit down. Let me get his file.” He eyes the chairs behind us and walks away from the counter.

  Not exactly Barney Fife.

  “Hasn’t he been here for only, like, a half hour?” Ollie comments. The cop gives him a nasty look. “How hard can it be to find his paperwork?”

  I tug on his sleeve, and the three of us sit in the cheap-ass plastic chairs. Ollie’s always one to toe the line with authority.

  “So, you’ve crossed over?” Ollie asks me, turning down the corner of the Sport Illustrated magazine.

  “Crossed over?” I question. I know what he’s talking about, but damn if I’m going to just lay it out there.

  “You’re going to make me spell it out?” Ollie closes the magazine and flops it on the desk between us.

  “Oh, you mean, to the sex-anytime-I-fucking-want side? Hell yeah, and I’m damn proud to call myself a boyfriend.”

  Crosby places his fist out for me to bump. I hit it with mine, and Ollie shakes his head.

  “I’ve lost all of you. Well”—he looks at Crosby—“I never knew you before you locked yourself down with one pussy.”

  “I’m not sure I ever did either,” I joke.

  Crosby smiles.

  He’s the only guy I’ve ever met who isn’t the least bit bothered by the razzing. Crosby’s never been shy about his feelings for Ella or telling anyone to fuck off for giving him shit about it.

  “Saucey is stalking Jen, the girl he fucking screwed over. And we can’t get you out of the bedroom.” Ollie shakes his head. “Sad day for the Ridgemont Tigers.”

  “Hop on the wagon, Ollie. You’ll be surprised to learn what you’ve been missing,” I say.

  “Once upon a time, I had what you have. A drought will happen at some point.” He crosses his arms over his chest, as though what he says is truth.

  Maybe he had the wrong girl.

  Crosby and I exchange a look. I know him and Ella have been back together for months, and the nightly moans tell me he hasn’t hit this so-called drought.

  “Not to mention, what are you going to do before a game? Remember, no sex.” He raises his eyebrows.

  Fuck, I did forget that. It’s a rule that we don’t fuck a week before a game. Keeps the testosterone up.

  “By the time you can, the orgasm is like you got laid for the first time,” Crosby snaps back with his reasoning.

  Not that he knows though. He and Ella haven’t been together for a Ridgemont season yet.

  Ollie shakes his head and widens his stance as he slides down the chair. Must be hell, being six foot five.

  “I have no complaints.”

  I smile, just thinking of Ainsley. Then, I remember how she got so upset because I wanted to take her to Chicago. Add on the fact that she wanted to tell me something, and my stomach churns as I wonder what that was all about.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, assuming Ainsley’s name will be flashing on the screen.

  “It’s Mike Ripley.”

  Ollie’s eyes light up while Crosby nods.

  Crosby never knew Mike since he was drafted right before Crosby was recruited to the team. We wouldn’t have needed a third baseman if Mike hadn’t entered the draft.

  “What’s up, man?” I answer, standing up to clear a distance.

  “What’s going on with you?” he says.

  There’s a ton of noise behind him, and I’m guessing he’s partying hard during spring training.

  “Getting Saucey out of jail.”

  He laughs because, usually, it was Mike we were getting out of jail, but that was for fights and disorderly conduct. Coach would never say, but I’m positive, he was happy when Mike left for the majors. That’s what happens when you have the talent Mike had; you tend to think you’re above the law and consequences.

  “Fuck, man. What did he do now?” he asks. His voice sounds deeper than I remember.

  “Not for streaking down Main this time.”

  We share a laugh from Saucey’s antics during his freshman year.

  The music behind him must be turned up because I have to press a finger into my ear as I struggle to hear him.

  “So, I heard a rumor today that the Sox want to meet you.”

  Mike plays for the Cardinals, so I’m surprised he knows, but then again, he stays in close contact with Gus, our recruiter, who is Coach’s right-hand man.

  “Yeah, I got the call this week. Just a meet-and-greet though, nothing in writing.”

  “They’ll want you. Have a killer year, and you’ll be drafted.” He sounds absolutely certain.

  Although I’ve compared myself to Mike in the past, he’s always had more confidence than I have.

  “Yeah, I haven’t decided yet.”

  “What? If you’re entering? You’re crazy.” He muffles the phone. “In a second, baby. Yeah, get back in bed.”

  “Well, parent pressure about getting a degree.” I start pacing in front of the doors.

  Ollie and Crosby are immersed in some conversation. Probably the White Sox versus the Indians debate again.

  “Shit, college will still be there,” he says.

  I swear, he’s kissing someone on the other end of the phone.

  “Mike, are you talking to
me or sucking face with a girl?”

  “She’s no girl. Get drafted, and you’ll quickly discover the female race.” He covers the phone again to talk to whoever is with him. “In a second.”

  “Ridgemont’s treated me well.”

  I have Ainsley, not that I’m ready to tell Mike Ripley that I’ve flipped to the monogamy side. He’s never been one to believe in anything love. Rumors about Mike have been alive since he was a freshman. Not only about how many college girls he’s banged, but also professors, directors, and even the librarian. The guy can seduce anything with a pulse.

  “It’s not the pros, man. These chicks sneak into restrooms, blow you at a dinner table. Stripteases and lap dances are boring.”

  The girl’s voice whispers in the background.

  “Listen, I think you’re kind of busy,” I excuse him.

  I usually wouldn’t care about hearing him fucking around with a girl. He was my roommate for two years, but right now, my stomach is nauseous from hearing him with her.

  “Yeah, two chicks are becoming impatient. I just wanted to wish you luck. It would be nice to see a friend on the field.”

  “I’ll let you know,” I say.

  “Take care.”

  “Yeah, you, too.” I hang up and take a seat back by Ollie and Crosby, who quickly shut up and press their backs to the chairs. “Sorry to interrupt your secrets, dipshits.”

  Crosby nibbles on the side of his cheek, and Ollie laughs a hollow I’m-hiding-something one.

  “What did he have to say?” Ollie asks. His eyes veer to my pocket where my phone is.

  “Nothing.”

  “We know about the call,” Crosby says.

  I purse my lips back so as not to smile. I’m not one to brag because it would make my teammates jealous.

  “How can you keep the Sox away from me?” Crosby stands up, comes over, and shakes my shoulders. “The Sox, man. Why aren’t you shouting it from the rooftops?”

  I shrug.

  “Because he will have to leave Ainsley,” Ollie chimes in.

  I throw a wadded piece of paper at him. He catches it in his fist and throws it back. It hits my forehead and falls to the floor.

  “Poor catching, and the Sox want you?” he asks. But he’s smiling, which shows he is happy for me.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Crosby asks.

  I stand up, making him step back until his ass lands on the table. “Why doesn’t everybody just mind their own fucking business?”

  I walk to the water cooler and fill up a paper-triangle thing, hoping that it will cool down my temper because the next person to ask me about the draft might just get a punch in the nose.

  20

  Ainsley

  “Cade, Olivia can’t spend the night.” Maybe the fifth time telling him this will make him realize that they aren’t going to pull one over on me.

  “Why do you have to be such a bitch? You sleep at Brax’s, and he sleeps here. The two of you never sleep alone.”

  I roll my eyes. “Because we aren’t seniors in high school. Not to mention, Olivia’s dad puts a certain amount of trust in me.” I relay the same fight over and over and over again with the hopes that common sense will prevail.

  “I love her, Ains.” He sinks into the chair, and his hands cover his face.

  What just happened? I’ve heard of girl hormones, but for a guy?

  “I know you love her, and next year, she can sleep over. But not until she’s out of her parents’ house.”

  “Her dad is making her go to school in California.” He looks up, and wetness fills his gray eyes that match mine.

  This is where our sibling relationship crosses over to a parent-child one. Cade’s only three years younger, but the way we were brought up, it could have been ten years. He comes to me for advice, and I can be an overprotective mama bear at times.

  “And what about you? Where do you want to go?”

  “I want to play ball, and the teams that are looking at me are in the East Coast.” His head falls into his hands again.

  I want to yank his head up by the black strands.

  I hate seeing him heartbroken. Maybe it’s because he never knew our mom, and dad died when he was young. He’s grown up not knowing what it’s like to have parents, and I’m not sure who suffered more. At least I have memories to comfort me. All he can do is imagine the memories from pictures.

  “Distance can work for—”

  “No one, Ains. Distance works for no one.” He stabs me right in the heart with a jagged knife.

  The last few weeks, I’ve tried to come to grips with the idea of Brax joining the pros after this year, and every time, I envision losing him. Him not calling. Him not wanting me anymore. Everything is better and bigger once you’re at that level.

  “I think it can work for some,” I say.

  He lifts his head, staring over at me like I just said the sky was green. He shakes his head. “You’re delusional. You know that, right? And you’ve put yourself in the exact same position.”

  “Not exactly.”

  His lips dip, his cockiness diminishing. “Yeah, not exact but pretty damn close.”

  I nod, rise from my seat, and grab a carton of ice cream out of the freezer. Lucky for me, Delaney went shopping.

  “Thanks for depressing me.”

  Cade sits up straighter.

  What was a therapy session for him has now turned into a therapy session for me.

  “Hey, Brax is different,” Cade says.

  I scoop more ice cream onto my spoon. “Is he though?”

  Cade nods a firm yes. “He is. I’m sure of it.”

  “The White Sox called him,” I say, my spoon digging to the surface of the chocolate brownie wedged between the layers of vanilla ice cream.

  “I’m not surprised. Some top commentators referenced him as one of the most wanted guys. Catchers are a huge commodity in the MLB right now, and Brax is good.”

  My lips form a fake smile. “Thank you for that bit of information.”

  He laughs. “You’d think you’d love the fact that your boyfriend might go pro.”

  “I’m not the usual Diamond girl. I don’t chase ballplayers. He just showed up one night,” I say more to my ice cream while attempting to convince myself.

  “Olivia’s not a Diamond girl either. I mean, I was a pimply-faced kid who would sneak around corners to catch glimpses of her. She saw me before she knew I was a ballplayer.”

  I remember the first time Cade had a boy-girl dance at school, and I gave him advice on Olivia. It’s part of the reason I’ve always worried about her hurting him. You don’t always mean to hurt the ones you love. Cade loves her so much, but in high school, many times, love isn’t enough.

  “What does Olivia say?”

  He grabs the spoon out of my hand and digs into the ice cream. “She says she’ll tell them she’s going to the East Coast, but they’re willing to pay for her to go to college. I won’t let her go into debt for me.”

  I hand the carton of ice cream over to him, and he starts taking a bigger spoonful than I did. Aren’t we a pair?

  “I love her so damn much.”

  I lean over the table and place a kiss to his temple. I pat his hair, like I did when he was five and I was eight. As though I could soothe him like only a mother could.

  “Just wait and see what happens. Don’t worry about it now.”

  “Is that the advice you’re taking for yourself?” he asks.

  I stop to think.

  The reason we were out of ice cream was because last night was the first night in a long time that Brax and I weren’t together, and I almost couldn’t function. How will I go the long stints if he enters the draft?

  “A long time ago, I learned that I can’t control someone else. I’m scared to death that he’s going to break my heart, but having him in my life right now almost makes that fear lessen. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s true.”

  “Not stupid.” His phone vibrates alo
ng the table, and he picks it up. He’s out of the room before saying hello.

  Since he left the ice cream on the table, I dig out the spoon, put the lid on, and place it back in the freezer.

  Next year will be boring, just worrying about myself. Living by myself has been the one thing I’ve been hopeful of since my grandma passed, but once Cade leaves for college, I fear the silence will haunt me, which makes that dream not very appealing now.

  I’m in my room when the black truck pulls up the driveway. A giddiness in my stomach roars to life, alerting me that he’s coming.

  Yippee.

  I place my hand over my stomach. “Calm down,” I murmur.

  A few minutes later, he enters my bedroom.

  “What happened to knocking?” I ask.

  He throws himself onto the bed so hard that I bounce up, and my book shuts.

  “That ship left. Now, I’m just trying to catch you naked.” He winks, crawling on his forearms until he can plant a kiss on my lips.

  Oh, the sweet taste of Brax Brentwood.

  “So, we’re booked in two weeks,” he says, his hand squeezing my thigh.

  I smile down at him.

  We never did discuss the issue of him paying for my ticket to Chicago after Saucedo got arrested. I freaked out, and it almost seems silly when I think back, but I’ll keep that to myself.

  “Hey, remember that night when I said I had to tell you something?” I ask.

  He nods, rolling onto his back and placing his arm over his forehead.

  Practice and lifting are becoming double time in preparation for the season. You’d think that would diminish our sex life, but no flannel pajamas have happened yet.

  His hand moves up and rests on my inner thigh. “Yeah.”

  I stare down at him, my highlighter tapping on the top of my textbook. I struggle for the confidence to tell him. “When I had that little outburst, it was because of my past.”

  He quickly flips to his stomach, granting me his full attention. My stomach’s giddiness churns to anxious chaos.

  He needs to know.

  “Past?”

  “Yes, a past boyfriend.”

  He shakes his head and waves his hand in the air. “Nope. I like to think of you as celibate before I ruined you for all men.”