Page 26 of Play the Field

Standing up, I wasn’t ready to take her shit. “I don’t want to hear it, Cat. I had like one rule.”

“Not true, you had a few actually.” Cat raised her hands in surrender as she intercepted my eyeline. “Come on, it was fifteen minutes.”

I rolled my eyes. “Do you don’t think I have a use for that time? You think the best thing I have to do with my day is show up at this run-down field and help your ass?”

Shoulders dropping, Car chuckled. “God. I forgot you weren’t a morning person.”

That stupid fucking smile.It had gotten me into so much trouble over the last two decades, long before we ever fell in love… and clearly long after we fell out of it. But I clenched my jaw, determined not to give in this time.

“Look, we’re both already here. Think of this as a way to get revenge.” She was starting to plead, desperate for my help. I would’ve been lying if I’d pretended I didn’t like her like that – so in need of me that she had no choice but to come off of that high horse.

Eventually, I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Drop your bags, I want fifteen line drills. One for every minute.”

A stupid smirk took over her face. Underneath, a slight dread lingered. Nonetheless, like a well-trained player, Cat dropped her bags on the bleachers and headed for the field. She stretched her long arms as jogged toward home plate where an orange cone marked her starting point.

Even from the bleachers, I could see Cat’s injury. She was tentative as she lightly pulled her right arm across her chest – wanting to warm up the muscles without straining them too far.

A sudden tightness hit my chest. It was strange to see her like that. She wasn’t a teenager anymore. Hell, she wasn’t even a young adult. Instead, Cat Collins was an aging professional athlete, struggling to hold on to her career.

Once the weight of what she’d asked me to help her with set in, I walked out onto the field and hollered. “Faster. You’ve got two years to make up for.”

Shaking her head, Cat laughed as she started to wheeze on her tenth round running between home plate and first base.

I used each run to assess another part of her figure. She was still in good shape, despite spending the last couple of yearspartying. But her endurance had dropped significantly as had her accuracy.

There was a lot of work ahead. But if she could manage to show up on time, we might be able to make this work. By the time she was running her last lap, I could hear Cat’s wheezing from the fence line.

Once she crossed the dirty white, rubber home base for the last time, I nodded. “You can do better.”

Keeled over, Cat shot daggers into my eyes. “I didn’t see you doing this shit.”

“I wasn’t late.” I winked. “Okay, get on the pitcher’s mound.”

Cat’s forehead wrinkled. “Why?”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. “Catherine, you’re a pitcher. So get to pitching.”

As she shook her head, she crossed the distance between us and faced me. Sweat dripped down her face despite the chilly morning air. “That’s how I got injured.” It was obvious using her full name bothered her.

Good to know for later.

“Correct. And I need to see how bad.” I stared her down, unrelenting on my point. At this stage, she needed to know I wouldn’t be bullied into doing this half-assed.

Cat’s chest heaved as she still tried to catch her breath. “Fucking fine.” Grabbing her glove from her bag, she stormed over to the pitcher’s mound. As soon as Cat’s foot met the rubber at the top of the sand, her body tensed.

I could only assume that she was being put right back into the day of her injury.

Shaking my head, I tried to erase the sound of her yelp from my mind. I’d watched the clip online once I heard. But it was so much worse than I could have imagined. Acrackreleased from her right shoulder as the ball launched from her hand toward home plate.

But no one would pay attention to where the ball landed, only to the screaming pitcher keeled over herself at the center of the field.

Standing before me now, Cat sighed. “Are you serious?”

A part of me worried I was just torturing her, not thinking about what could happen to her arm if I was reckless. But I nodded. “Yes, Catherine. I need to see where your form’s at.” Biting the inside of my cheek, I continued, “Don’t go too hard. We’re looking for form, not a strike.”

Cat’s jaw clenched as she thought about the instructions. I’d never known her to take it easy.

But as she got into position, I took my spot behind home plate. Bending down, I crouched in place. My feet dug into the sand as I put my weight on my heels, holding my glove up in front of my face.

---