Page 34 of The Battery
“You have no right trying to butt in,” Leo said, words nearly trembling as he took a single step toward me. “I’m not some simpering little boy who needs to bitch and moan about how poor life has treated me,unlike some people.” Now that caught me by surprise. He continued on the offensive before I could mount my own defense. “Poor little Cody, talented enough to make it to the majors but too pussy emotionally to remain. It’s pathetic, Hill. Where would you be right now if I didn’t sink hours andhoursof my time into helping you? We weredominatingthe field and now what did you do with that gift? Threw it in my face. Oh, because you want to jerk off yourfeelings to feel better? Fuck off with that shit. Why can’t you separate sex and sentiment like a real man?”
I could have gone atomic on him then. I certainly wanted to. Instead, only one thought came to mind.
He’s hurting.
And it wasn’t from me. His uncle? If only he had opened up. If only he let me in.
“You’re right,” I said. Not a small voice, though not loud. Just…defeated. “Yeah. You’re right. I don’t really know you. It was fun, the stuff we did. And thank you for helping me get—”
“I don’t need a speech,” he interrupted. “All right? Just… we’re just teammates who fool around, Cody. Look,” he said with a lighter tone, though the severity in his face didn’t abate. “I told you once that I’m able to separate things. This was one of those. It’s on me that I wasn’t clear enough on what that meant.”
“I’m not some overly emotional—”
“Stop,” he said. Fuck, but if these interruptions didn’t grind me to the bone. “It doesn’t matter. None of this matters. Professionally, we’re synched up. Let’s leave it there.”
He turned and left.
The shame I thought I wouldn’t feel hit me like a fastball to the gut. I actually doubled over as the front door slammed shut. I sank into one of the chairs and stared at the perfectly seared steak, now evidence of my idiocy.
Which I was. An idiot, through and through. What was I thinking? Leo was right. Of course he was. He told me that day, when I let slip on my confusion, that he was able to separate all these things. It was just something physical. A release. Nothing more.
I forced myself to eat, if only for the protein. Went to bed early.
Blasted the white noise, as if the static could drown out the naysayers in my head.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cody
Ifuckingdominated. Three innings as the middle reliever and I proved not only to myself, but to the managers, coaches, and the other relief pitchers, that even a team like the Harrisburg Stags had to be cautious of me. I had nothing but power threats lined up against me from a team known for speed and base running.
Their lead-off man in the fifth swung and missed a fastball I painted on the outside corner. A well-placed slider brought strike two. And for the third? A nasty curveball that dropped out of the strike zone, but the guy swung anyway. The second batter, a power hitter, singled on a line drive down the middle. But I used a changeup on the third hitter to keep him off-balance. After a foul ball, a slider led to a ground ball to our second baseman, who flipped to Freddie at second for the force out, then to first for a double play. It was a hell of an inning.
Leo and I didn’t speak before or after. We fist-bumped, to keep up pretenses and maybe to sate whatever superstition had been sown over the past few weeks. Neither of us let on that hostility simmered between us, sundering the careful foundation on which to build something strong. Maybe he didn’t see that—and if he didn’t, well, I didn’t care anymore. The things he said to me might have been in anger, but they still cut deep enough that I would feel the wound for a long time.
Until then, I had a game to play and a goal to achieve.
We were getting ready to take the field for the sixth inning when Leo surprised me with an opening gambit. “Your slider istoo predictable. There’s no bite in the movement. They’re gonna focus on that this time.”
Oh, the litany of sass I wanted to throw back at him in that moment. I pulled off my cap and ran my hand through my hair. Adjusted the nicotine patch. “Okay,” I said with exceptional effort. I wanted an award alone for the ability to hold back. “Anything else, sir?”
I saw him flinch. He turned to look at me after he finished strapping on his left knee guard. “Yeah. You’re starting to cock your head before you throw a fastball. Stop it.”
“Maybe I’m doing that on purpose. To make them think they can read me.”
“You’re not a clever pitcher like that.” He finished the second knee guard. I wanted to drive my cleat into his crotch. He held up a hand, palm out, as if to placate me. “You have consistent and reliable mechanics, Hill. That’s needed. We have clever pitchers and reliable pitchers. You are the latter. Don’t pop off because I’m saying something you think you don’t like.”
He grabbed his mask and stared me down. Those bold green eyes of his sat behind dark lashes like emeralds buried in coal. “Don’t get cocky, all right?”
I steeled myself against the unnecessary criticism. It was sojuvenileof him to make a comment just because he could. So I said, “Sure thing, boss. Hey, be sure not to lean so much into your crouch. I’m surprised you haven’t fallen over yet.”
The fire in his eyes. I would say it was sexy as hell if I wasn’t already seeing red.
“Try and keep that mitt from moving around too much, too. It’s like you’re trying to signal a plane landing.”
“Enough, boys,” the skipper barked. I hadn’t realized he’d been standing there. “Fuckin’ married couple over here. Get out there, already.”
We jogged up and onto the field. A deep-rooted, petty anger buckled my arm to my body. The child within me refused to lift it up as Leo and I parted for our spots.
