Page 80 of Baseball and Shifters

“Wait, so you basically have emotional mind control? No fair,” I pout.

“Yeah,” Derrick scoffs. “Tell me about it. I couldn’t get away with shit as a kid. Speaking of dragon powers have you ever heard of shared dreaming being a dragon thing? We’ve been having some pretty wild dreams lately and most nights we all share the same one.”

My cheeks flush as the memory of last night's dream hits me. We may not have all progressed to the same point in our real lives but hey what's the harm in a few dirty dreams?

Demi ponders Derrick’s question for a minute before responding. “Actually yes, I think I’ve read something about dream powers before. I will look more into it and get back to you. But let’s not get off topic. Say yes, Rachel, you can bring as many friends as you want. Please, Helene will be so disappointed if you say no. And I can’t promise she won’t come hunt you down in the stands to introduce herself.”

“Yes,” I say with a chuckle. “We’ll be there.”

“Perfect, Helene will be so pleased.” Demi grins. “And just so you know, the name rule goes for her too. Call her Helene, or Mom if you like, but you may break her heart if you call her Mrs. Ashford.” He winks before turning and walking towards the nearest clear area for him to shift. “And tell your friends they better come hungry. Helene always brings enough homemade snacks to feed a team… and that’s on top of the food that’s catered in.”

With that, he does a strange three step shuffle forward before jumping and shifting mid-air. The move leaves me stunned as we watch his dragon form fly out of sight.

Liam

There’s always an electric feel to the atmosphere on game days. The way the air hums as the crowd buzzes with a barely-contained energy. The scent of the field, the way the cleats squeak, the rustle of jerseys as we warm up on the field, every bit of it gets my blood pumping.

Something about today feels different though. Maybe it’s that for the first time since we all bonded, Rachel is sitting up there watching live and in person from the VIP box with D’s parents. Derrick and I delivered Rachel and her girls there before making our way down to the field. I was worried at first that it may be too much for Rachel but she handled it like a champ.

When we entered the box, Helene rushed for Derrick, pulling him into a hug first. She finally released him only to turn on Rachel. I could see the way she stiffened at first contact but it only took a second for her to relax in Helene’s arms. A good mom hug is healing for the soul.

By the time D and I made our way back down to the locker rooms Helene was huddled with Rachel and her roommates having some sort of very animated conversation about different kinds of pickles. I glance up at the mirrored windows of the VIP box and though I can’t see her, the knowledge that she is here watching us play and also being protected by Demi and Helene warms something inside me.

Rolling my shoulders, I step up to the pitcher’s mound, the weight of the ball familiar and steady in my hand. Lucas stretches at third, Bas casually taps his glove at first, and D squats into his stance behind home.

The other team takes their positions and the ump calls for the game to begin.

That’s when Trent decides it’s time to open his stupid fucking mouth.

“Don’t let the pressure of being back get to you, dog boy,” he hurls at Lucas from his place in the outfield, his bald head is covered by his hat but it seems pretty clear to me that he took that basic reversal spell. That is if the glued on eyebrows are anything to go by. “Would be a real shame for your girl to see you lose… again. Bet by the end of the game, she’ll be going home with me.”

Derrick lets out a low warning growl just loud enough that everyone on the field can hear. Bas turns from his place on first to level Trent with a deadly glare.

I ignore the kangaroo fuck and throw a fastball at the distracted batter. The idiot is so caught up in Hopper’s shit talk, he doesn’t even swing, earning his first strike.

Lucas laughs behind me. “You always this chatty before you strike out?” he asks, voice cool and even. “Or are you just trying to distract us from those sad ass caterpillars glued to your forehead?”

That gets a laugh out damn near the entire field, I’m pretty sure I even hear the ump snort out a chuckle.

I throw my next pitch as Trent continues his little melodrama.

“Real funny, mutt,” he sneers. “We didn’t need you last week and we don’t need you now. I hope your little fox is watching when you blow it. Might finally open her eyes to who the real alpha male is.”

I bark out a laugh before throwing one last ball at the first batter. As the batter walks back to their dugout, I turn to Trent. “You? You’re the dollar-store version of Mr. Clean, bro. And why are you acting like you had anything to do with our win last week? Pretty sure it was Bas who won that game and you, well you just struck outeverytime you were at bat.”

Shaking my head at his pure idiocy, I get ready to strike the next guy out. The first pitch is perfectly down the middle, but too fast for him as it hits the back of D’s glove faster than he can swing. The insult match continues as Bas joins in.

“Yeah man, I mean you’ve got some balls to be running your mouth like that when you look like an off brand Stanley Tucci wax figure,” Bas tosses in for extra punch.

Laughter rings out around the field and my lip tips up as I let another pitch fly, the thud of it landing in D’s glove almost drowns out Trent’s next words.

“Laugh all you want,” Trent says, low and sharp. “Doesn’t matter what you clowns have to say. I’ve got back-up. Contacts. People who know how to take care of problems, starting with that little fox bitch you are all so obsessed with.”

The laughter dies instantly.

I freeze, ready to end this game right now and take his ass down. Derrick stands from behind the plate, tall and imposing, eyes locked on Trent.

“You want to run that back, Hopper?” Derrick asks with a deadly calm.

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