Page 14 of Burn the Wild

“Ford.”

“Yeah?”

“Who’s going to win the World Series?”

I grin. “White Sox,” I tell him. “They’ll come back after being shut out for five innings. Then, Colm Meeney will get a solo homer in the tenth and end it.”

“See?” Jim laughs. “Gotta get you in the booth.”

I hang up and pocket my phone.

Instead of continuing my descent, I remain suspended.

I swore I’d never get back into baseball after what happened. What I did.

But Jim Donovan’s out-of-the-blue offer has struck a nerve. Thrown me a curveball I never saw coming. Or maybe I never wanted to see it.

The one thing I knew since I was eight years old was I wanted to play baseball and I wanted a family. Clear natural law.

And do I have either of those? I sure fucking don’t.

He’s right. What am I doing with my life? Bumming around while everyone gets married and has babies? Living my life like tomorrow’s ten years away? I’m thirty-seven years old. Except for a little infamy, a few titles, and some money in the bank, what do I have to show for the last ten years? Everything on this ranch is Charlie’s. Davis has the Warrior Heart Home. Hell, even Wyatt’s entertaining offers to open his own rodeo school.

And me?

What do I have? I’m not sure I want to answer that.

It’s something I talked about in therapy.

I pretend like I don’t care when I do.

I act like I don’t want what my brothers have when I do.

Hell, I had it for a time.

I swung and missed at love.

And I’m not trying again.

My emotions ramp up as I stare down at the three-hundred-foot drop.

I take a breath to relieve the pressure building in my chest. Shake my head to clear it before I start my descent. It’s dangerous climbing when your mind is long gone.

In the past.

Bad memories.

Savannah.

A lawyer, blonde, bright, beautiful. We were opposites. She was a good girl who had her shit together. I was a southern boy bumming around on a baseball field. But I loved her. I loved taking her out and showing her off. Our song was George Jones’“He Stopped Loving Her Today” and on late nights she’d lean over to me in bed and whisper,“It can’t get better than this, Ford.”

We dated for three years before I popped the question. Planned it out to a fucking tee. Even asked Jim for his permission. During our warm-up, I brought her onto the field, because Savannah loved spectacle. Drama. Anything she wanted, I wanted to give it to her. I got down on one knee. With my heart hammering in my chest, I pulled out a ring.

Only…

She said no.

She left me kneeling on the mound, feeling like a used-up fool. As a chorus of boos filled the stadium, I put the ring back in my pocket. I rallied and pitched the best game I ever had in my life.

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