Page 27 of Unleashed

Hadley squeals and Wilder continues to write on the clipboard but bites his lip. Christ. The ass is being generous, finally allowing his wife to stand in harm’s way. I know she was playing shortstop when I sent a line drive into her stomach, but accidents happen. It could’ve happened with her playing right field. I have to believe that. But heaven fucking forbid she enjoys herself. He must want a sexual favor in return. I should have brought a noose.

Wilder then announces, “Sylvie, I like you and Val playing third, but we’ll need to use you both at first and second if needed.”

Sylvie argues, “I’ll play third base, but I don’t think I can play first. It’s too much pressure.”

Wilder licks his lips before looking up from his clipboard. “I get that, but we don’t have enough players. We’ll forfeit games for that reason. I wish I could grant everyone their wish to play the position they want, but I can’t. You must all be able to play several positions. But not everyone is born to pitch. I get that.” Behind his glasses, he arches an eyebrow aimed at me. Wilder needs to find a better hobby if that was meant to belittle me.

Betsy snaps, “This will never work.”

Sylvie scowls at Betsy. Ferrera says, “What a way to be positive.”

Betsy throws up her hands. “I think we’re setting ourselves up to fail.”

Wilder sighs. “If we believe we’ll fail, we’ll achieve it.”

I snort. “Wasn’t that in your wedding vows?”

Hadley grumbles, “Greg.”

Wilder’s mouth drops open, and Simone says, “Don’t worry about it, Wilderness. Some people know nothing about vows.”

“And you would?” I demand, even if she’s ignoring me.

Annoyed, Wilder says, “It’ll be better if we work together. Questions so far?”

Val raises her hand, which is unnecessary because she should always have permission to speak. Unlike other people here who need duct tape for their mouths. “How often will we practice?”

Wilder’s sudden, warm smile reminds me that Val is a big part of his life, his surrogate mother-in-law and grandmother to his kid. Val is in Finley’s life more than Hadley’s dad has ever been. “Since we have high stakes this season, I’d like us to practice three times a week for an hour. We’ll work around it if we need to add or reduce days. On Saturdays and Sundays, we’ll practice at 1 p.m. On Wednesdays, we’ll practice at 5:30 if that works for everyone. We may have to squeeze in a Friday. We don’t have long before our games start. I know it’s a lot, but the stakes are high this season.” Just so Betsy can squeeze her shriveled body into a swimsuit three sizes too small and roll around in the sand like a wayward beach ball. Jesus Christ. Why do I punish myself?

Simone asks, “What about the pitchers and catchers? I work better with Crick. I think Amos would agree.” I don’t exist, I see.

Wilder shakes his head at his sister. “I’m not assigning you to a pitcher, Simone. The pitchers must alternate, and you should be able to work with both. Is that a problem for you, Crick?”

As Wilder awaits an answer, a sharp breeze blows through while Crick appears at war with his thoughts before saying, “I’m fine with either.”

Wilder nods and lifts his chin toward me. “Rodwell? Problems?”

Shocked that I get a damn say in anything, I stutter, “Uh, yeah, but none I’d discuss in a mixed setting, Coach.”

Straightening his Legal Eagles hat, he purses his lips and shakes his head. “I meant about the catchers.”

Simone crosses her arms and stares at the ground, and I shrug. “As long as they do their job, I don’t care.” No way she gets to dump me in everything.

“Good. I want you all to pair off in twos. Grab a softball from the bag. Simone and Greg, I want you two to work together first.”

My head nears the edge of exploding. “What? Why? Let me work with Crick!”

Wilder doesn’t smile, and I can’t see his eyes behind the mirrors, but his amusement for my misery is a damn foghorn. “Is there a reason you and Simone don’t want to work together?” Val and Hadley frown while Nico snickers next to me. I’d punch him, but he knows nothing about my former relationship with Simone. Everyone else gawks at me, but Simone is the only one to stare straight ahead.

I glare back at Wilder, silently asking why he’s a bigger douche than usual by putting me with his sister when they both hate my guts. But I can’t ask him anything, and the fucker knows that.

Simone argues, “I already promised Hadley I’d practice with her.”

Wilder shrugs, and his effort to hide his smirk is fucking lame. “Sorry. She’s working with Sylvie.” Damn. Well, it’s not only me he’s dicking around with today. That’s heartwarming.

I argue, “Well, I pick Rhonda.”

Rhonda grins, but Wilder shuts it down. “Not today. She’s practicing with Crick. Any other dead-end complaints?” Yeah. Stop coaching your sister on how to feel about me, fucker.

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