Page 58 of Unleashed

“He showed up on my doorstep without notice and declared he was staying for a week. I need to tell him we split up before he finds out. He had found our marriage record online but hasn’t mentioned he found the annulment. He’ll stop paying my tuition if he catches me lying to him. Just please stop by tonight for a couple of minutes. That’s it. I’ll do all the talking.”

I shrug. “Ask Wilder. He’s a pro at bending the truth to suit him.” Beyond the dugout, I hear Tesco telling Brandon it’s his turn to bat. Great. We’ll be here for eternity.

She grows more frantic. “He won’t do it.”

I cross my arms, laughing again. “Isn’t that rich? Your brother can’t even support you? Why don’t you get one of your boyfriends to help you tell Daddy Warbucks?”

“I can’t do that!” she shrieks, covering her eyes. Her fake eyelashes probably look like dangling dead spiders.

The silence between us is heavy and painful. I can’t subject myself to it anymore. As I leave the dugout, she says, “You can dump me in front of my dad. You get your revenge.”

I tug on the bill of my hat as I consider retribution. What would that do? Against the fence, I see Wilder and Tesco looking over at us and gossiping like two grandmas in line at the bank.

The tinging metal of a lame foul ball complements my answer. “No, thanks.”

I hear a slight whimper from Simone, but I don’t turn around, or I’ll fucking give in. Like Hadley, after breaking up with Wilder, I can’t erase everything I felt for Simone with a snap of my fingers.

“So you’ve totally moved on? I saw you and Rhonda out there. Is this to hurt me?”

I laugh and then spin around, getting in her face so she sees me this time. Her eyes widen with fear. Or desire? I’d never hurt her with my hands. Only stupid words. “You’ve got to be shitting me. Ronnie’s my friend.” Simone’s natural scent and sugary sweet perfume are torturous to my blue nuts. “You think I grieve for you leaving? How cute. Or maybe sadly delusional. I let you be my first. But not my last. Not even close.”

Simone inhales before stepping back, blinking. She stammers, “But you went out with her before.”

“This is your hill to die on? I thought you were more than a friend to me. Now, you’re fucking anything with a pulse, just like your brother did when he and Hadley broke up. I see how it runs in your family.”

She clenches her teeth and fists with unshed tears, still refusing to fall. “And it’s so different from training a rookie!”

“Screw you, Garrison.”

“Nope, Rod. I’m already screwing everything else with a pulse!”

From behind me, Tesco says, “Psst! Cut that shit out! Finn is about to come over here and shut us all down.”

“Whatever. I’m done here,” I mutter as I push past Officer Don Juan deFucko.

When I pass him, I hear Tesco say, “Don’t let him bother you, darlin’. He’s not worth it.” He’s such a horny asshole.

As I storm out of the dugout and past Wilder, still leaning on the chain-link fence, he asks, “Everything okay?”

“Absofuckinglutely, Wilder.”

Instead of interrogating me further, he says, “Good. You’re up.”

I grab a helmet and my favorite bat and go to home plate. I notice Rhonda made it to third base while Brandon only made it to first. Let’s see what we can do about that.

Wilder yells instructions to the outfield to move back. Hell, yeah. I’m in that kind of mood.

While waiting for Patrice to get her shit together in left field, I flip the bat twice as I gather more fury. In high school, it always helped me to argue with my parents or sisters before a game. I haven’t tapped into that method of playing softball. I think I’ve found my angle.

Huddled behind the plate like those furry caterpillars, Amos sighs. “What happened? I heard arguing.”

“Not a damn thing, boss. Just keeping it real.” As I practice my swings, Simone’s plea echoes in my head. How in the fuck could she ask me to help her announce our split and for me to take half the blame?

Annoyed, I get into my batting stance at home plate. Crick smirks at me before he pitches the ball. The ringing crack rebounds throughout the park when my bat slams into it. The ball cuts through the air in a line drive straight to Hadley.

I drop the bat, and everything is slow-mo, but she catches the ball. Holy fuck.

Everyone on the field cheers, but Finn Wilder clutches the metal fence with one hand and drops the clipboard on the sideline. He then digs his hand into his hair, making his baseball cap fall to the ground near the ruffling pages on the clipboard. His blondish-brown hair is far from the styled version we all see on TV, and he looks like a dope fiend refusing rehab. Our unflappable coach is losing his shit.

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