Page 110 of Force Play

Probably not the time to tell him we are indeed living together, even if all of her stuff hasn’t made its way over.

“Just ask what you want to know.” My words come out harsher than intended, and I’d like to blame the pressure Grant is using, but it’s not the only factor here. Keeping all of this from everyone is harder than I thought it would be, but I respect Indie’s decision.

“Is she okay?”

I let my forehead drop to the table with a thud. “Can you be more specific?”

“Poppy’s worried that she’s sick. My money’s on you knocking her up.” I lift my head up and whatever he sees on my face shuts him up.

“Not pregnant, not sick,” I say, wishing I wouldn’t have let him in.

“And then there’s you missing meetings and a game.”

“Hendrix,” I snap.

“Okay, Indie’s fine. I’m leaving.” He backs away from the table like he’s trapped in a cage with a tiger and honestly, that’s how I feel right now too.

Grabbing my phone from the table I fire off a text to my dad.

Dom:

Watch out for Indie today, she seems

skittish this morning.

Dad:

10-4

The game has barely started and my body is still riddled with the tension that’s been building all day. It’s the bottom of the second inning and that prick Jensen is catching today after only batting as the DH yesterday. I preferred him on the bench, where I didn’t have to interact with him.

Standing in the on-deck circle, I’m like that caged animal back in the trainer’s office. Only now I’m coiled and ready to pounce with him this close to me. Tearing my gaze off of my former roommate, I focus on the pitcher. Cruz’s bat cracks with the sound of the ball coming off it and he takes off for first, barely beating out the throw from the shortstop.

Toeing at the dirt, I grind my back foot into the batter’s box. A low whistle comes from behind me and I try to tune it out, concentrating on the pitcher.

“Enjoying my leftovers, Duran?”

How the fuck he knows Indie and I are together is beyond me, and I’m not in any position to figure it out. The pitch comes and I swing and miss. Grinding my teeth together I step out of the box, readjusting my elbow guard and exhale a deep breath.

“Better luck next time,” he sneers.

My hands twist on the bat and I sit back waiting for my pitch, channeling all these relaxation techniques I researched for Indie.

This time, when I swing, the ball and bat connect almost perfectly, sending it all the way to the fence. It doesn’t have the juice to make it over the wall, but it’s deep enough that the outfielders aren’t able to make the catch.

When I stop running at third, I know there’s no way I’m ending this inning without scoring. Call me petty, but stealing on Jensen would make my whole damn season.

Dean strikes out and I don’t get a chance to make a break for it, but I taunt the shit out of the douchey catcher with a healthy leadoff every chance I get.

Biding my time, I wait for my opportunity as Xavier takes his turn at the plate. The next pitch is a slider that ends up in the dirt and Jensen misses the block, giving me the opening I’m looking for.

One goal in mind, I take off diving for home and brush the plate with my fingers. Jensen barrels into me as I slide across the plate. He hits me hard, but with all the adrenaline pumping through me, I hardly feel the jarring hit.

I look at the ump and see him signal safe. Groaning, I reach for Xavier’s outstretched hand and let him pull me up. “That’s skill, not luck,” I say, brushing myself off. I see red when Jensen pushes my catcher out of the way, rips his mask off, and gets right in my face.

“Be proud of yourself all you want for scoring on me. Just remember I scored with your girl first. She was always an easy lay. Not worth that trouble, but that’s your problem now.”

Blood pounds in my ears and I cock my fist back, not thinking twice before it connects with Jensen’s face, taking him down to the ground. Even as I hear the home plate ump yelling, “You’re out of here,” I don’t have an ounce of regret.

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