Page 43 of The Strike Zone

A loud chorus ofooohsfrom the guys trailed me as I jogged after him, though not before I flipped everyone the bird.

He was waiting for me by the couches, arms crossed and perched on the back of the longest one, which separated out this area of the locker room. We called it a locker room, though it was kind of misleading for the facilities we had here, given the overall space—at five thousand square feet—was bigger than most houses.

Shepherd had the place specially designed to provide anything we needed when we needed it and separated out into zones, including downtime before a game—board games, cards, Xbox, or PlayStation—there were even bunk beds for anyone who wanted a quick nap. At the opposite end of the couch we were currently standing by, two of the rookies were fighting it out onCall of Duty.

I stopped in front of him. “Yeah, Coach.”

“What’s the latest on this form you’re signing?” he barked out.

Coach Chase had come from the Yankees, where he’d been bench coach.

A phenomenal player in his day, spending the majority of his career as shortstop for the Mariners before moving to the Braves, where he’d won two championship rings. After a couple more years bouncing around teams, he retired and moved into managing.

In the nearly fifteen years since, he’d become well respected for handling both the players’ needs and the clubs’ in equal balance. He could relate to what we were going through because he’d lived it. He was fair, rounded, and well liked.

Over that time, however, he’d certainly perfected that sterndon’t mess with mescowl, just like the one he had trained on me right now as he peered over his bifocals, expecting me to know what he was talking about.

I didn’t.

“What?”

“Have you signed it?”

I tugged at the collar of my tee, which suddenly felt way too tight. “You mean the dating thing?”

“What else would I be talking about?”

I shrugged. “Beats me, Coach.”

“Well?”

My brows knotted tightly in annoyance. “I’m not dating anyone.”

Coach stayed silent, though the way his eyes bored into me spoke volumes. He didn’t believe me. Which pissed me off.

“No. I’ve not signed it, because I don’t need to…I thought you only had to sign it if you started dating someone who worked here. I’m not, so I haven’t. I asked her on a date, she said no. End of story.” I stared at Coach, Coach stared back. “Wait…I have to sign it just because I like her? That is fucked up.”

“Nothing fucked up about this season, King. Shepherd is not fucking around. HR is not fucking around. I need you on this team, otherwise we have Barry to work with,” He snapped, mentioning one of the Lions’ backup catchers.

I closed my eyes and took three deep breaths. God, this was humiliating.

“I don’t see what difference it makes who I’m dating. Or not dating,” I added quickly. Not that he believed me.

“We don’t want distractions this season.”

My hand flicked between the two of us. “Isn’t this a distraction? Pulling me up for something I’ve not done.”

“Do I look stupid to you?”

“Eh?”

“You think I don’t know what’s going on right under my nose? You don’t think I don’t notice you trying to get that girl’s attention? You don’t think that’s a distraction?” Biting down on my cheek was all I could do to stop the grimace, especially when Coach was still staring at me. “I’m telling you that it is. While you’re here in this stadium, your focus should be one hundred percent on the task at hand. You’re a catcher, Parker. You have to see the whole field and be able to read the play five steps ahead. And you can’t do that if you’re distracted by getting this girl’s attention.”

“I’m not distracted.” I gritted as my cheeks puffed out the breath I’d been holding. “What do you want me to do? I can’t make her date me.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t care. Just keep it out of the locker room.” He pushed off the couch back, making it clear this confusing-as-fuck—and totally pointless, if you asked me—conversation was over. “Now get your ass to the cages before you’re late.”

As he walked off, my eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. I had thirty minutes before practice started. I was already changed, and it took me approximately five minutes to walk from here to the cages, walkslowly.

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