Page 13 of The Third Baseman

I hated traveling, but this away leg I hated more than usual, and the mood I was in had me drooling for a beer, but scanning the shelves of the fridge, the options were non-alcoholic or non-alcoholic.

That’ll be non-alcoholic then.

Twisting the cap, I flopped, exhausted, onto the couch and flicked through the sports channels. The Cubs, Astros, and Giants were all playing tonight. ESPN was showing the Mariners game, but I passed through them all until I found the one I was looking for; The Dodgers game on FOX.

The boys were currently leading two-one against The Padres; I caught it just in time to see Freddie Freeman smash a home run that increased their lead to three.

Fuck, I missed it.

I missed being in Los Angeles.

Seeing the boys out there without me, on the field I’d played my whole career, was hurting more than I thought it would, and I was not looking forward to the day we played against them. I leaned back with a groan, once more wondering if I’d made a mistake.

That I’d taken on more than I could handle, with the potential to create an even bigger clusterfuck.

It was certainly a predicament.

We’d come off the high of our Opening Day win and gotten sloppy. We lost three games this week. Three games we should have won – or at least not lost by such huge margins.

All of a sudden, we’d gotten flat; each loss deflating the balloon a little more until we were nothing but shriveled rubber caught on the breeze.

I felt like crap, and I couldn’t decide whether it was because we’d lost, or because Marnie hadn’t replied to a single one of the messages I’d sent her... or because I should have been able to deal with the distraction.

I’d spent nearly half my life playing professional baseball, and I could legitimately say this was the first time I hadn’t had my head in the game.

And because I always needed to prove myself right, I pulled my phone out and checked it. Nope. Not one. And it wasn’t even like I’d sent many – just a daily check in; morning and night.

Ten in total.

I didn’t expect her to come running back immediately, but I was beginning to think I should have known better.

That I couldn’t atone for my behavior; that maybe I’d read it wrong and she didn’t care. I’d spent fourteen years thinking about her daily, and now the reality was dawning on me that perhaps she hadn’t thought about me at all.

But the slap…

I hadn’t been a hundred percent sure she’d be in the boss’s office when I’d headed straight up after the game, but since I’d woken up that morning, my body had buzzed with a latent energy I’d never felt before.

Some might have said it was simply Opening Day excitement, but that wasn’t it.

I’d known.

I don’t know how I’d known, but I had.

Marnie Matthews had finally arrived in the city.

I hadn’t bothered to shower. I came straight off the field and ran up the five flights of stairs to Penn Shepherd’s office, still covered in black and gold glitter from the canons going off after our win.

I stalked down the corridor and then stopped dead. The door to his office was ajar, and the second I heard her voice, I nearly fell to my knees. Still the same soft, lilting tones, but with a new sound; a delicate gruffness like she was getting over a cold. It coated my skin, covering me with the same protection it had done back in high school, or before any game when she’d told me she loved me.

I’d stood outside for thirty seconds, absorbing the sound of her voice, quenching the nerves I’d never felt before in my life.

Or a handful of times before.

I chuckled quietly. Of everything I’d done in my life, Marnie was the only one who could get my nerves spinning like a fastball.

I pushed open the door and there she was.

Even though I’d known she was on the other side, I’d still been shocked into stillness when I’d seen her. Even if she wasn’t burned into my soul or tattooed on my body, I’d recognize her anywhere.

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