Page 1 of Wild Card

Prologue

One year earlier

I could feelmy nostrils flare as I tried to inhale one of those calming breaths Marcus was always preaching to me about. Was I supposed to breathe in through my mouth and exhale through my nose, or vice versa? I always forgot. Even after attending sports medicine classes, my mind couldn’t seem to keep the order clear, but whatever…shit wasn’t working.

My fingers dug into the cool metal separating me from the field. I watched as Marcus slid into third base, a cloud of dust floating into the inky sky. I guess it wasn’t exactly dark over the diamond, not with the stark white lights overhead, but it was still annoying. Why the fuck were we out there at seven thirty at night? I had a job to get to by nine…not that any of my teammates would understand. It was technically against the team’s rules to have a job while you played. Our focus was to only be split between our studies and our team, but I didn’t have that luxury. I had explained this to coach, and even to the owners of the team—yes, the cherished North Carolina Devils had owners and none of us were allowed to talk about it. Shit went to the top fast, but only because we were considered afamily.

Hilarious if you really broke it down, but the Devils wanted to support the players on and off the field in any way they could…while creating toxic environments and insane play schedules. It was all a little backward, but regardless, they were quick to accommodate me, though only because of my ‘situation.’

The evening practice almost felt personal. I understood how childish that seemed, but in the back of my mind, Elias, our team captain, had made this decision after hearing I’d landed the position at Geno’s Bar and Grill. I was sure he didn’t really give a fuck about the job, but the fact that I had approval to work it. He hated how much distance I kept putting between myself and the team, hated how I’d stopped attending the team parties and helping with the card games. He didn’t get it. No one, except maybe Marcus, understood the weight on my shoulders.

I bent down to grab a batting helmet, feeling my stomach tip with anxiety. I already knew the likelihood of getting out of this practice unscathed was next to impossible. There were rumors circulating the locker room and team house. Whispers coasting past my bedroom door, down a muffled hall. Loud jokes made with darting eyes as I walked by. They all knew something I didn’t, but it was my instincts that told me something was off about this particular practice.

Elias was planning something. Marcus said I was paranoid, and maybe I was…but I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling.

“Duggar, you’re up!” Coach yelled from the top of the stairs.

Shuffling up the steps, I walked toward home plate, readying my stance, then I heard my coach yell again.

“Hold up, Duggar!”

I turned for a fraction of a second to see him bent over, speaking to his assistant coach. Fear danced along my insides as I waited to see what he wanted. Caden was crouched behind me in his catcher’s gear, waiting with me…eerily quiet. Just the week before, he wouldn’t shut up about his girl and meeting her parents. It only confirmed my fear about something being off with this practice.

“Switch it up with Matthews on the hill—he asked to get in a little extra batting practice before we quit. Tell Caden to take a break.”

I nodded my understanding even though unease slid through me like sludge. Tossing the bat to the side, I slid my helmet off. My glove was near the fence already since I’d pitched the first half of practice, so I grabbed it and started toward the dust-covered plate in the middle of the diamond.

Elias kept his gaze down as I passed him, so I did the same. We hadn’t been speaking to each other much, not since the funeral—the one he skipped—although I supposed the first sign of our friendship circling the proverbial drain had probably been when he got those devil horns inked into the side of his head. He demanded I get a matching set, said we had to go together, like we were in fourth grade making friendship bracelets. I shoved off the idea with a laugh, reminding him we weren’t chicks and the Devils didn’t own my fucking body. That was when things began to tilt unfavorably for me.

Adjusting the glove on my hand, I readied myself for the throw. A calmness always overcame me when I stood here, looking down the strike zone. I felt it now, even as nerves rattled me. I cleared my mind, lined up my sight, and tried another one of those soothing breaths before releasing the ball.

It flew from my hand, soaring toward that empty air hanging over home base. My throws usually registered at 96 mph, but we never threw that hard in practices. So, I knew this was closer to mid-seventies or so, nothing crazy. I just wanted to get this over with and head to work. It was the only thing I felt like I could control in my life at the moment, so I wouldn’t risk messing it up. I watched the ball soar toward the plate, and right when I thought it would pass it completely—

Crack.

The sound echoed around the field like a strike of lightning. Suddenly I was back in my bedroom, hearing the sounds of thunder rattle our house while we waited for my dad to come home, listening to the constant drip of rain upon the roof as I realized he never would.

A second later, a splintering pain wove through my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs. I pitched forward, slowly trying to play catchup to what had just happened. I’d never in my life been hit by the ball while pitching. I’d done everything right; I was lined up correctly…the pitch was good. How had this happened? My lungs burned and burned as my chest hollowed out. I registered people yelling my name, others yelling something I couldn’t make out. I fell face down into the dirt while I tried to process the commotion hovering above me.

What the fuck happened?

Hit him in the chest.

It was a freak accident.

That’s never happened before.

White jerseys went in and out of focus as my fingers dug into the dirt, my lungs struggling for air.

“Decker, can you hear me?” That was Marcus.

I knew if he was here, I’d be okay. He was the only team member to have my back. I struggled for that fucking inhale…I needed to calm down, needed air. My nostrils flared; my mouth gaped. Nothing came.

Then a body lowered into a crouch next to me, revealing a pair of navy blue eyes and a wicked smile hitching up his face, like he had planned this entire thing. How…how had he done it? Elias had one of his hands on my back, patting me…saying something in my ear.

“You’re finished, brother.”

I made a sound. It might have been me pleading with him to remember our childhood, our tree forts, or the bond we’d shared in middle school and through all four years of high school. He’d been my best friend; he wouldn’t do this to me.

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