Hitching the Pitcher (A Belltown Six Pack Novel)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Second best behind a sport.

  What if that was her permanent designation?

  Just because I give her attention doesn’t mean I feel any less for you.

  She’d wanted to ask how he felt about her—she almost had.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  He’d never be able to choose between them, and she would never ask that of him.

  Besides, she knew where the line was drawn, and where she stood in relation to it. She had the past to prove it.

  Sawyer looked up and grinned, and Erica’s knees went weak with longing.

  Her heart turned over, but it gave her a sick feeling rather than a fluttery one.

  She forced a smile and went over to him. “Whew, that was a rough one.”

  He shook his head. “You handled it like a pro. And honestly, you’re a natural. I learned a ton! You can expect a very detailed paper from me, particularly on the quality of the instructor.”

  Erica rolled her eyes. “Don’t waste space in the paper for that. I’ll subtract that from the total length of the paper.”

  Sawyer chuckled and held up his hands. “Fine, fine, I’ll pretend it wasn’t you.”

  “That would be for the best.” She bit her lip and wrung her hands a little. “You have time for a quick walk through the museum? Not the whole thing, but I just… I want some privacy with you.”

  He was instantly serious, his expression turning almost concerned with a line appearing between his brows. “Sure. Everything okay?”

  She nodded quickly. “Of course. I just can’t leave, and this is all very… open.”

  “Okay, sure. Lead on.” He gestured for her, and she moved towards the pottery and artifacts exhibit, which should be fairly vacant on a Wednesday around lunch.

  It wouldn’t surprise her if she was completely wrong and it was packed, thus destroying any hope of having the private conversation she suddenly needed to have with him.

  Thankfully, Fate was kind today, and it was empty.

  Erica slowed her step and wandered along the arrowhead display, her eyes scanning absently over the edges of each item, taking in the description cards, and looking up at the map of Arizona indicating where each arrowhead had been found.

  “Erica…”

  She glanced over at Sawyer, who stared at her in expectation.

  He shrugged pointedly. “What’s on your mind?”

  She rested her fingers on a case and drummed them lightly, exhaling slowly to herself.

  She could do this. She could take steps towards preserving her dignity and preparing herself for painful possibilities. She could.

  “Sawyer…” she began slowly, turning to face him fully, her fingers shaking. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough to do this.”

  His brows rose just a little. “To do what, exactly?”

  She gestured between them. “This,” she said simply. “To be with you like this. Feeling what I feel. Again. Knowing what happened, knowing how it hurt, I don’t know if I can bear it again if...”

  “What if I told you I was feeling it too?” he told her in a low voice, stepping towards her. “That it feels better than before? That I’m terrified of letting you down again?”

  Erica sighed, shaking her head and walking to him. “You didn’t let me down. I understood.”

  “You deserved better,” Sawyer insisted, and for the first time, she heard raw pain in his voice. “It was never about you, you know that, right? There was so much more going on with me, and I didn’t know what to do, how to make it right. I was lost, Erica, and I thought… I thought I needed to remove everything from my life except baseball. It was not you.”

  “Yeah,” she whispered, smiling as gently as she could. “I know.”

  Sawyer shook his head and closed the distance between them, taking her face in his hands. “I should never have let you go. I should have let myself feel this every day.”

  Her heart pounded furiously in her ears, and her fingers and toes were on fire. “Feel what?” she breathed, her cheeks flaming under his touch. “What is this, Sawyer?”

  His eyes searched hers, then he slowly leaned in, then paused, waiting.

  What did she want? To risk this again? To play it safe? He was giving her an out, and she could back away now.

  The feeling of his hands against her face was heavenly, and the tickling sensation of his breath waiting across her lips the craziest tease in the world. His scent invaded her system and made her tingle all over, and a weak moan was rising in her throat.

  She wanted this, after all that had passed. She wanted him.

  And that was that.

  Erica released a short, breathless sigh, tipped her head back, and pressed her lips to his.

  * * *

  “You swung like you were trying to beat someone! Or swatting a fly!”

  “I did not. It was a great change-up, and that’s all.”

  “The bat whistled as it cut through absolutely nothing but air.” Grizz whistled faintly and waved his hand as though it were on a breeze.

  Sawyer rolled his eyes and took an onion ring from the plate before him. “At least we won our game today. What was the score again, Grizz?”

  Grizz mumbled under his breath, slouching and reaching for his glass, drinking as though it were something stronger than water.

  Ryker shook his head with a wince. “I don’t know how you guys made it into the postseason, Grizz. I’ve never seen a more unpredictable wild card than the Knights.”

  “We didn’t get it either,” Grizz admitted with a shrug. “The fact that we made it to the Series was miraculous. But we knew it was a fluke and wouldn’t happen again, especially when Sterling, Jif, and Kiebler all left right after. I’m just biding my time.”

  Sawyer stared at his friend with interest. “Your agent got any tips for you? Anyone interested?”

  “Oh, who knows,” Grizz groaned, sitting back. “Preseason isn’t exactly the time for feeling things out. Just gotta do my job and hope someone saves me. I’m open to offers, and he knows that, so we’ll see. Pittsburgh’s a nice enough city.”

  “That’s what Rachel says,” Sawyer added with a snort, taking a quick drink. “Though apparently lacking in real interest in dance.”

  Ryker flashed his usual grin. “Sis is in Pittsburgh? Grizz, why didn’t you say?”

  He looked at Ryker in bewilderment. “How was I to know that Skeeter’s sister was there, Rabbit? It’s a big city with lots of suburbs.”

  Ryker shrugged and dipped a fried pickle into ranch dressing. “Whatever you say, bro. A real friend would look after the sibling of a friend, especially in the Six Pack.”

  “Uh-huh,” Grizz grunted, unconvinced. “And when was the last time you called my brother to check on him?”

  Sawyer choked out a laugh. “Clint’s a Marine. Rabbit’s afraid of him.”

  “Am not!”

  Sawyer’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

  It was a text from Erica that read, Tell the boys I said hi! Call me on the drive home!

  There was a heart after it, and for some completely stupid reason, that little heart made him smile.

  “How’s Erica?”

  Sawyer jerked, his knee ramming into the table and making an extremely loud noise, just to make his embarrassment all the more obvious. “What? Who?”

  Grizz and Ryker looked at each other, then back at Sawyer.

  “What?” Sawyer said again, shifting his attention between them.

  “Yep,” Ryker suddenly grunted, sitting back and reaching into his back pocket. “You’re totally right.” He pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it over to Grizz.

  “Thank you,” Grizz quipped as he folded the bill and tucked it into the pocket of his shirt before folding his hands on the table and smiling expectantly at Sawyer.

  Sawyer blinked. “What just happened?”

  Grizz batted his lashes teasingly. “I just bet Rabbit here twenty bucks t
hat you were seeing Erica again and that the text was from her. He doubted. Now I’m twenty bucks richer.”

  “Come on,” Sawyer scoffed, sputtering in disbelief. “Why would you even go there?”

  Grizz held up a finger and pulled out his phone, pressing a few buttons, then setting the phone down on the table on speakerphone.

  It rang only twice. “Grizzy, what’s up, pal?”

  “Big Dawg,” Grizz said, smiling at Sawyer slyly. “Got a hypothetical for you.”

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “Sitting here at dinner with Rabbit and Skeeter,” Grizz said. “Say hi, boys.”

  “Hi,” Ryker said cheerily while Sawyer withheld any enthusiasm.

  “Hey uglies,” Cole laughed. “Good games today. Nice swing, Skeet.”

  Sawyer threw up his hands and slumped against his chair. “Unbelievable.”

  “So what’s the hypothetical, Grizz?” Cole asked.

  Grizz cleared his throat and leaned closer to the phone. “Skeeter gets a text and smiles like a girl when he reads it. Who’s it from?”

  Cole scoffed loudly. “Come on, not even hard. Totally from Teach, man. Skeet, you two back on?”

  “Thanks, Big Dawg,” Grizz said before Sawyer could push the End Call button. “I’ll update in a bit.” He ended the call and pocketed his phone. “Any questions?”

  Sawyer looked at Grizz without speaking, his arms tightly folded and tension coiling inside him uncomfortably.

  Ryker slid his chair back a bit and reached for his phone. “Right, Axe Man is next…”

  “No,” Sawyer said at once. “No. And not Steal either. You’ve made your point.”

  Grizz held out a hand to Ryker while still keeping his eyes on Sawyer, and Ryker slapped his hand before matching his expectant position.

  Sawyer heaved a sigh and reached for another onion ring. “Yes.”

  “Yes what?” Ryker asked as Sawyer folded the onion ring into his mouth.

  Sawyer chewed, shrugged a shoulder, then swallowed. “Yes, it was from Erica. She says hi, and she wants me to call when I drive back to Mesa.”

  Grizz rocked back on the legs of his chair. “And why would she want you to call?”

  “Probably because she’s my girlfriend, I don’t know.” Sawyer shrugged again, reaching over for some of Ryker’s fried-pickle chips. “And I think she likes you guys. No idea why.”

  Ryker whistled slowly. “Girlfriend? That’s more than just seeing her. Wow. Props, Skeeter. She’s classy.”

  “Thanks, I think so,” Sawyer admitted, raising his glass to clink against Ryker’s.

  “Huh-uh, wait a minute,” Grizz said, bringing his chair back to its normal upright position. “She got back into a relationship with you after what happened with the last one?”

  Sawyer looked at Grizz with a glower. “Yes. She did. We talked about it, and we’re okay.”

  “Okay?” his friend repeated. “You told her why you did it?”

  “I did,” Sawyer defended himself, straightening up in his chair.

  Grizz didn’t budge. “All of it? Skeeter, we all knew what you were going through, and we were behind you a hundred percent, but none of us agreed with that breakup. She was your line to life outside of baseball, and you snapped it on purpose. We didn’t say anything, mostly because you were an animal on the field and we loved that, but dude…”

  Sawyer stared at Grizz, ready for something else to snap any minute.

  “Did you tell her why?” Grizz asked again.

  He’d never told the guys why, so how could he have told Erica?

  Yet Grizz, for one, knew. And from looking at Ryker, it was clear he knew as well.

  Did the others know?

  What else did they know?

  Did they know that he’d felt the weight of his father’s death in more than just an emotional loss? That the burden of taking care of his family suddenly had fallen to him? He wouldn’t have had the time to establish a career and get financially stable for his mom and Rachel, not with his degree and not taking the traditional path. Baseball was his one good skill, his only hope for actually becoming something in the world, and that was his ticket to being the man his father would have wanted him to be.

  He’d had to devote himself to one thing and one thing only. Erica had been cut loose for the sake of his family, not just for his love of baseball.

  Baseball had given him all that he’d needed to make sure he could take care of the family, if they needed.

  Of course, it hadn’t been needed, but at the time he couldn’t have known that. His father had set everything up well for them, and there was no risk of them losing the house or anything else. His mom had gone back to work, and Rachel had earned a full scholarship.

  By the time he’d realized the truth, he’d been drafted.

  No, Erica didn’t know that. Just like she didn’t know the full truth about his efforts towards finishing his degree.

  It was probably best that she not know just how many random sports classes he’d taken over the years, or how many flat-out random classes, just to say he was taking classes. No one, not even his mother, knew about the promise he’d made to his father, and so long as he continued to take courses in the general direction of finishing his degree, he had that connection and that promise.

  When that was gone, it was entirely possible his father would be too.

  Erica didn’t need to know that.

  No one did.

  “Skeet?” Ryker prodded.

  Sawyer looked up, unaware that he had ever looked away. “Yeah?”

  “You zoned out. Did you tell Teach?”

  He sighed and shook his head. “Not everything. I’m not sure she’ll get it.”

  Grizz snorted once. “Of course she will. She knows you as well as we do, if not better, and we get it. Don’t agree, but get it.”

  Sawyer hadn’t considered that. He was positive his friends had wondered why he had acted so drastically about Erica back then, but Grizz was right: none of them had said a word about it. And they were not the sort of friends to protect each other’s feelings. Instead, they had rallied around him and built him back up.

  He had always said that at least half of the reason he had been drafted, and had been a player worth drafting, had been due to the Six Pack and all they had done for him.

  And then there was Erica.

  His connection to life outside of baseball, Grizz had said.

  Did he have one of those?

  Was it too late to get one if he did not?

  He smiled to himself as he considered it. He was going to try for it, at any rate, and see where trying got him.

  Surely anyone would understand that, too.

  He reached for his glass and took a long sip from it, then looked at Grizz again. “By the way, Mace says you owe him two hundred dollars. Wants me to collect.”

  Grizz hooted a laugh and proceeded to tell Sawyer exactly what he thought about that.

  None of which Sawyer would be repeating to Mace.

  Ever.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Wait, why is Sawyer in? He’s supposed to be off today! Isn’t Adam pitching?”

  “He is, yep. Don’t worry. Sarge apparently likes to mix things up. Since it’s preseason, Mace says he wants to keep their legs going, even if the arms are getting a break.”

  Erica looked at Jess Benjamin, her new best friend, sitting beside her, wearing a ladies’ version of her husband’s jersey. “But left field?”

  Jess grinned with her perfect teeth, her long auburn hair hanging in a ponytail through the back of her cap. “Sawyer’s a good athlete. He can do it.”

  “I know he can do it,” Erica pointed out, shaking her head as she looked back out onto the field where her boyfriend was now standing. “But it doesn’t necessarily mean that he should.”

  “True!” Jess laughed. She patted Erica’s shoulder. “Don’t worry; Sarge wouldn’t put him in unless he was confident, and Damien wouldn’t have let Sarge put him
in if he thought Sawyer needed more rest.”

  Erica nodded without really answering. She supposed that was true, from what she had heard of Damien, the pitching coach. He tended to be fairly protective of his guys even if Sarge wanted them.

  If both of them thought Sawyer could handle left field…

  She gasped as a ball popped high towards left field, and she clenched her fists and her teeth. “Come on, baby, come on…” she hissed, tracking the distance between the ball and Sawyer’s glove.

  He caught it easily, and the jumbotron showed his broad, crooked grin as he threw the ball to Farrabee. The dugout and bullpen whooped and hollered, and Sawyer blew them a kiss.

  “Someone is pleased with himself,” Jess said with a hearty laugh as she applauded.

  “Idiot,” Erica muttered, sitting back hard against her seat. “Only two more outs and one more inning to go.”

  Jess patted her again. “He won’t keep him in the whole game. And look, Sawyer’s better than a youth-league player. Even he can catch a fly ball. I promise, he’s fine.”

  Unless something goes wrong, Erica thought to herself.

  If there was one thing she knew about Sawyer Bennett it was that as hard as he trained, it was never good enough. He held himself to incredibly strenuous standards, and any error on his part would lead to hours of regret and blame, which would lead to even more hours of increased training.

  If he ever felt that he was letting his team down, he would spiral so quickly it would be next to impossible to reason with him.

  “Skeeter’s a headcase,” Levi Cox had told her back in their Belltown days, when she had been their tutor. “You get used to it.”

  She’d thought that was simply a teasing remark from a friend, but it turned out to be true. Sawyer was overanalytical, overcommitted, and underequipped with appropriate coping mechanisms for the results of his overanalyzing and overcommitting. She’d considered sports psychology as a major after seeing Sawyer’s struggles firsthand, but she’d decided— probably for the best—to leave that world to others with less emotional ties.

  As she understood it, he had taken sports psych classes, but she was willing to bet that had been more to get his head focused for pitching and games and possibly for leading his team—and less for everything else.