Page 38 of Fastball Fever
I'm sitting between Amy and Dante when a reporter finally asks the question hanging in the air.
"Charlie, you'll be facing Jared Morris for the first time since your injury last season," Seb Hudson helpfully reminds me, as if I don't know that already."Any thoughts about that matchup?"
The room goes quiet.I can feel Amy tense beside me, her hand finding mine under the table and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"Baseball's a game of second chances," I tell Seb, choosing my words carefully."I'm grateful to be here with the Admirals, heading to the World Series.That's what matters."
"But Morris has been quoted saying your comeback was more luck than skill, and that facing him again will expose the—"
"I don't concern myself with what Jared Morris thinks," I cut him off, more tersely than I'd intended."My stats speak for themselves.The Admirals speak for themselves.We've earned this opportunity."
Amy's thumb traces small circles on my hand under the table.It grounds me, keeps me from saying what I really want to about that smug bastard.Jared is the King of Jackassery.
"Will your history with Morris affect your pitching strategy?"another reporter calls out.
I lean forward, making direct eye contact with the camera."My strategy is the same as it's always been—pitch the best game I can for my team.Nothing else matters."
The questions continue, but I barely register them.I'm going to make Jared Morris eat every arrogant word he's ever spoken about me.
When the press conference finally wraps up, I'm drained but wired at the same time.The team heads out to continue the celebration at our usual spot downtown, but I hang back, needing a moment to process everything.
Amy finds me in the empty hallway outside the press room.She leans against the wall beside me."You okay, Charlie?"
"Yeah, of course."I run a hand through my still-damp hair."Just taking time to process that it's really happening.Our team is going all the way.Even if we lose—which I doubt—it'll still be something none of us will ever forget."
"That's true."She nudges me in the side."But you're thinking about Morris."
I laugh humorlessly."Am I that transparent?"
"Only to me."She slides an arm around my waist."The others just see their ace pitcher ready to dominate.I see the guy who spent months in physical therapy to be able to throw again."
I tilt my head to look at her, this woman who's seen me at my lowest and still believes in me."You know what's crazy?A year ago, I thought facing Morris again would be about revenge.About proving something to him."
"And now?"Amy asks."How are you feeling?Confident?"
"Yeah, I realize it's about proving something to myself."I tug her closer, craving her warmth and softness."I'm not defined by that injury anymore.I've become more than just the guy who got taken out by a dirty play.And two weeks from today, I'll get my chance to show the world what a dirty bastard Morris is—and how fast I can pitch these days."
Amy rests her head on my shoulder."You've already proven that, Charlie.The whole league knows it."
"Maybe."I press a kiss to her temple."But I need to face him on that mound.I need to look him in the eye when he's at the plate and show him exactly who Charlie Braddock is.I'll wallop him with a pitch so fast he won't be able to see it coming."
"I know you will."Amy smiles sweetly."You've got fastball fever.We both do."
That magic fastball is waiting for me.
Chapter Twenty
The Playoffs
Two weeks after our glory on the diamond, we step onto the field once again to face off against the Altitude—and specifically Jared Morris.Redemption and revenge all wrapped up in one package.This isn't a charity game.We have arrived at Admirals Stadium in Jacksonville for the first match in the World Series.
We've come home.
The crowd is already on its feet, ready to give their all for the hometown heroes.A sea of jerseys—ourjerseys—fills the stands.The rumble of excitement vibrates through the air, through my cleats, straight into my bones.
"Hell of a day for baseball," Phil says, clapping me on the shoulder as we head toward the dugout.He doesn't usually join us there during games, but this is no ordinary matchup.
"Can't wait for the game to start," I tell Phil as I sweep my gaze over the stands.My parents and my sisters are here somewhere, probably wearing those embarrassing shirts with my face plastered on them.And, of course, Amy will be watching from her spot near the bullpen.My heart skips a beat every time I think of that.My girl, the woman I love, will witness my first-ever World Series game.
