Page 32 of Fastball Fever
When I reach the dugout, the team greets me with fist bumps and shoulder slaps.But it's Amy I'm searching for in the crowd.She's standing slightly apart from the others, her expression guarded but her eyes saying something else entirely.
"Good control out there," she states like a true professional coach."Your mechanics held up well."
"Thanks to you," I say, and I mean it sincerely.
As she hands me a water bottle, our fingers brush against each other, and for a split second, her professional mask slips.I glimpse the woman from Cooperstown, the one who laughed with me over beers and challenged me to stupid bar games.The one who kissed me back with all her heart and soul.The woman I made love to in that bed-and-breakfast.
Then she's gone, replaced by Coach Keller once more.
"Stay loose for your second inning," she advises, moving away."And watch Morris in the box.He'll be looking to get even."
I gulp down a long drink of water, watching her walk to the far end of the dugout.Coach Rivera slides up next to me, his weathered face cracking into a rare smile.
"That's how you shut up a loudmouth," he says, slapping my shoulder."Damn fine pitching, son."
"Thanks, Coach."Though I spoke those words, I'm hung up on watching Amy as she studies her clipboard.
Rivera isn't my coach, but Amy hasn't minded taking advice from him.Nobody could be angry about that.Adrian Rivera is the nicest guy on the planet—who can be tough as hell when necessary.
The Admirals are up to bat now, and I should be focusing on our offense, but my mind is still processing what just happened on the mound.Not just striking out Jared, but the way my shoulder felt.Strong.Reliable.Like I can trust it again.But I know I shouldn't expect my shoulder to be one hundred percent healed today.I'll still have bad moments, though I'm sure those times will be fewer and farther between.
When it's time for my second inning, I roll my shoulders and grab my glove.As I walk back to the mound, I catch sight of a familiar face in the stands—Alicia.My ex-wife is sitting behind home plate, probably analyzing every pitch for her next article.Yeah, I heard she took a job with a big sports magazine.She'd been a columnist before I ever met her, though only for small publications.She left me for her career, so I hope it's made her happy.
Great.Just what I need.My ex-wife analyzing my every play.
I don't care about that as much as I thought I would.The moment I catch sight of Amy, I forget all about Alicia and Jared.
I'll win this game for the woman I love, whether she likes it or not.
Chapter Seventeen
Showdown with Jared
A charity game designed to raise money for sick children probably isn't the right time to face down against Jared.That jerk has been acting like he owns the diamond and the stands and all the fans who've come here for some fun.I'm standing on the mound, preparing to throw another wicked pitch, when I spot Amy in the bullpen again.
She's not looking at me, but I can feel her presence like a steadying hand on my shoulder.Her clipboard is clutched tight against her chest as if she's counting every pitch.Even from here, I can see her lips moving silently, running through strategy or maybe just willing me to kick Jared's ass.
I roll the baseball between my fingers, feeling the familiar seams.This isn't about Jared right now, though.It's about these kids watching from the stands, some in wheelchairs, others with IV poles.They're the real MVPs today.
"Just throw the damn ball already, Braddock!"Morris shouts from the opposing dugout."Those kids wanna see some action before their next hospital visit!"
My grip tightens on the ball.A flush of heat crawls up my neck, and for a split second, I consider firing the ball at Morris instead of the plate.But I catch Amy's eye, and she shakes her head almost imperceptibly.Message received.
Then a little boy—maybe six years old—comes barreling out of the dugout.He's grinning and waving at me, shouting something that I can't quite make out.Amy sprints after him wearing a sheepish grin.
The little guy flings his arms around my waist and grins up at me."Charlie Braddock.You're my favorite player of all time."
"Wow, that's quite a compliment."I ruffle the kid's hair."What's your name, buddy?"
"August Murphy."
"Did you come here on your own?"
He shakes his head."My mom and dad are in the dugout.It's so cool that I get to watch you play.Mostly, I'm stuck at home 'cause I've got cancer.It's in my brain."
My throat constricts.This adorable kid loves me.He ran out here just to meet me, despite his illness.He's amazing.And I need to do something for my biggest fan, don't I?So, I sweep August up in my arms.
A woman rushes over to us, panting from exertion while also smiling."Mr.Braddock, I'm sorry August surprised you that way, but he really does worship you.I'm Jill Murphy, August's mom.My husband is saving our seats for us.I hope our boy didn't mess up your pitch."
