Page 163 of Restricted List

Rory’s eyes catch mine across the plane, and her bright smile sends warmth and happiness coursing through me.

I love you, she mouths to me.

I love you, too.

Yeah, being casual never felt as good as this does right here.

Tonight’s game is tougher than the games we played against the Windjammers in the last series.

The Raptors are a great team—the Thunderbirds only narrowly beat them in seven games in the National League Championship Series last season to advance to the World Series.

And we struggle for a while tonight. It takes time for us to find our groove, and we really only find it when Ari hits a two-runhome run at the top of the ninth inning to put the Stars up by one.

Now, at the bottom of the ninth, we take to the field while Chris Rockman, our closing pitcher, takes the mound. We’re three outs away from starting the season off with four wins and no losses if Rockman can get the save.

And so far, so good.

Chris strikes out the first two batters he faces, leaving us with just one out left to get.

The Raptors’ left fielder is up at-bat, and he connects on a slider that comes in at the edge of the strike zone.

But it doesn’t go far because Chris snags the line drive out of mid-air, getting us our final out and our fourth win of the season as he clinches his first save.

We celebrate as we head out of the dugout, with the exception of Ari and Chris, who are joining Skip for their media appearance.

The clubhouse is rowdy, filled with the excitement of starting our season off strong. We’re World Series champions; we want to defend our pennant, and this gives us a great chance at getting that opportunity.

Lane comes behind Josh and me, clapping his hands on our shoulders. “Four and fucking O, baby!”

“Maybe we can hit a hundred wins this season,” Josh says.

“Only ninety-six to go,” Knox laughs as he walks over to join us.

“Hey, it could happen,” I reply. “We’re fucking great; we can get by with just sixty-two losses.”

“You’re way too damn optimistic,” Knox says, shaking his head.

“Your girlfriend is a Pierce; you know how we are.”

He laughs again as I unbutton my jersey, sliding it off my shoulders, and strip myself out of the sweat-soaked T-shirt I have underneath. I desperately need a shower right now.

The clubhouse door opens then, and Ari, Chris, and Skip walk in. Ari heads right over to us.

“There he is!” I shout, whipping him with my shirt. “The man who helped us get the win tonight!”

“Happy to be of assistance,” Ari says with a bow to the laughter of our friends.

“Great game tonight, guys!” Skip bellows from across the clubhouse. “We’re starting off the season strong, but don’t get complacent. We still have one hundred and fifty-eight games to go before playoffs.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this, Skip,” I say happily.

He comes over to us now, looking at me as he says, “You keep batting like you have been, Pierce, and I have no doubt we’ll end up with the pennant again.”

“This is my season,” I smile. “I can feel it.”

He shakes his head with a grin on his face before his eyes catch something.

“What is that?” he asks, gesturing to my body.

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