Page 120 of Force At Third

Nour doesn’t even swing, and he’s called out after three perfect pitches.

That’s three.

On the field, the Phillies take their sweet-ass time after Bennett strikes out the first batter.

When Bennett Senior calls a time-out and runs onto the field, Bennett Jr. yells, “What the hell are you doing?”

“You’ve got five more games in the series; do not fuck up your shot and a first-year series win for these?—”

“You wanna coach me now?” He laughs.

“Do not start this shit now, son.”

“Then get off my jock, old man. I never got your help when I needed it. I sure as hell don’t need it now.”

“You think these assholes care about you?”

Nour heads toward them.

Jr. answers, “I don’t have to think; they do. Now get off my pitch so I can play my game.”

“Who do you think you are?” Blaze Sr. yells at him, and I’ve had it.

“I got this. You hang back,” Amias says as he jogs from short toward the bullshit on the pitch.

“Step of the fuck off, man,” Nour sneers.

Bennett Senior glares at him. “You need to learn your fucking place, kid.”

“How about me?” Amias asks. “You wanna tell me where my place is?”

Bennett Senior shakes his head. “Fucking joke.” Then he walks off.

Longest inning of my fucking life, but Blaze Bennett Junior isn’t the cause. He ends the game, and we own the second game in the World Series by two.

* * *

Walking into Gwendolyn’s room at Mercy West, I see she’s hooked up to all kinds of monitors, and I can see she’s in pain.

When she sees me, she smiles. “No press?”

“Winning was the demand, Mrs. Locke. Bennett and the boys delivered you a win.”

“Two down, two to go.”

Sophie looks up from the tape coming out of a machine. “Your wife’s going to deliver you a baby. We’ll get you all scrubbed up and head to the OR.”

“Cesarean?” I ask, knowing she wasn’t sure how she wanted to go. A cesarean would give her a better chance at having another child if she chooses.

“Gotta keep those options open.”

I lean down and kiss her.

“Now get cleaned up; you smell like you just played nine innings.”

* * *

The room is filled with doctors and nurses, clad in blue scrubs and masks, moving with practiced precision. The sterile scent of antiseptic fills the air, a stark contrast to what I just left an hour and a half ago.

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