Page 31 of The Shake Off

The bucket was still upside down where it had fallen, and I slumped onto it – or tried to. Instead, I misjudged the space, fell back on my ass, and smacked my head on the floor.

Fuck’s sake. I couldn’t even manage to sit down properly.

I was nothing more than a pathetic overpaid lump.

I flung an arm over my eyes to block out the brightness of the spotlights, though if I really wanted to admit it, I was also attempting to stop the tears from forming.

“Dude, what’re you doing on the floor?”

My head fell to the left to see Parker walking toward me. He stopped by my feet and held his hand out. I didn’t take it; I should probably stay here. I was as much use on the floor in the corner of the pitching cages as I was on the field right now. And at least here I wasn’t getting in the way.

“Contemplating my life choices,” I grumbled.

“Well, stand up and do it.” Parker flicked his hand at me again.

This time I took it, because knowing Parker, if I didn’t, he’d only bend down and heave me to standing. Or yank me up. Something, anyway, but whatever it was, I would find myself standing soon because if Parker decided he wanted something to happen, he would find a way to get it. The man did not give up.

I wish he could find a way to get my throwing arm back.

“I’ve been calling you,” he said once he’d succeeded in bringing me to standing.

“Don’t have my phone on me,” I shrugged.

“You always have your phone on you.”

“I don’t today,” I replied, bending down to pick up the bucket. “It’s in my locker.”

Parker sighed heavily and looked around. It was clear I’d thrown a lot of balls, just like it was clear the cutout of Jupiter had been eviscerated when he should have been intact. Even the space on the back wall marking the spot where Parker usually crouched was intact, save for a few scuffs.

He picked up a couple of balls and dropped them in the second bucket. “I would have come in with you this morning. You should have woken me up.”

I tossed a ball from where I was standing. It hit the side of the bucket and rolled onto the floor.

Of course it fucking did.

“Ace, how long have you been out here?” Parker continued.

“Dunno.”

“Judging from this, I’d say a few hours.” He gestured his hands toward the bucket. “Dude, you need to get your shoulder iced and rested.”

I rolled my shoulder again; it had been aching for most of the morning, like I’d slept badly on it. Though seeing as I’d slept for a total of eight hours in five nights, that couldn’t be the cause of the ache. I wasn’t even sure if pitching continuously for the past two hours had made it worse, but without practicing, I wouldn’t get my arm back, so I was in a catch twenty-two.

“Yeah. I’ll go in a bit, just want to get through another bucket.”

I looked up as Parker laughed, because it wasn’t his usual laugh of amusement; it was more of a deep scoff.

“What?”

“You’re not serious?”

“Serious about what?” I snapped.

“About another bucket of balls.” He dropped two more into the bucket by his feet. “You need to rest your shoulder.”

I looked at him, a deep,deepfrown creasing my brow. “I’m not playing tonight. Rivers is starting, and Coach will keep him in for the whole game while I warm the fucking bench.”

“Dude, you’ll be playing.”

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