Page 76 of The Third Baseman

Present Day

“FUCK!”

I hurled my glove so hard that it dented my locker. It was right next to the dent I’d made with a ball yesterday.

At this rate I’d be paying out for another door.

At this rate I should just hand my Amex over to the club.

I sat down and kicked off my sneakers. There was a clang as they hit the back of the locker.

I slumped back, raking my fingers through my hair.

What a fucking mess.

I was off. Everything was off.

I’d just finished running drills, and I could’ve done fifty more. I hadn’t missed one ball at base practice; I’d caught everything.

And I couldn’t give less of a shit.

I didn’t bother looking up from my hands when the locker room doors swung open. Noise levels went up from silent to fucking annoying. Lux Weston was complaining about his hamstring; Parker King was pissing himself laughing at something Ace was showing him on his cell, and Stone was… on his way over to where I was sitting.

With any luck he hadn’t heard my tantrum, because I couldn’t be fucked to have a conversation about it. But from the way I’d stormed off the field the second we were done, he knew something was up.

Luck wasn’t on my side.

“Okay, Reeves, spill it. What’s up your ass?”

I pulled my shirt over my head. “Nothing.”

“No, that’s a fucking lie. Three days ago you were a moody bastard, but now you look like you wanted to rip Coach’s head off because he called time. It was like you were on a suicide mission with those drills.”

“They’re called suicides for a reason,” I snapped.

“I didn’t see anyone else taking it literally,” Stone snapped back, sucking down a Gatorade between breaths. “So I’m asking again, what is up?”

“Fucking nothing!”

“Okay…” he pressed on, “then I’m asking this. That was a phenomenal practice. We’ve won eight games in a row. Everyone’s talking about us. Jones and Simpson are still with reporters discussing the early season success. I’m telling you, you should be buzzing, and you aren’t.” He was quiet for a whole ten seconds, though even if Locker Room One didn’t now resemble a tail gate party, my brain was too busy for any peace. “Reeves!”

“What?”

“I asked you a question.”

My teeth ground together. “Actually, you didn’t.”

I kind of enjoyed the way his nostrils flared. I wondered how long it would take to snap his endless patience. The moodiest I’d ever seen him was when he told that story about his girlfriend shopping, or not shopping… whatever it was, but maybe if I riled him enough he’d join me under my black cloud.

Misery loves company after all.

“Okay, why aren’t you buzzing?”

Ah, there it was; the million dollar question. Why wasn’t I buzzing?

Probably because I hadn’t slept.

Probably because the jealously raging through my blood was stopping me from being able to do anything else.

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