Page 105 of Sliding Into Love
In the handful of seconds it took for the catcher to jog to the mound, Ethan found himself in too close proximity to his uncle. The nasty look on Lawrence’s face nearly made him back away, but he wasn’t about to take his foot off base. It was better to pretend he wasn’t there.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lawrence muttered, barely audible.
Ethan’s breath came in short pants like he’d been caught between bases and had to sprint and dive beneath a ball. Instead of responding, he adjusted his helmet for probably the fifth time, and as it had so frequently in the past few months, Ethan’s mind blurred the past and present into a single, murky image. This time, he shoved it aside, and for the first time, he let the stadium sounds fill his ears rather than listen to his uncle.
The dull roaring of so many intermingling sounds drowned out Lawrence’s tirade enough that Ethan’s mind yanked itself back into the game just in time to jog to the dugout to gather his hat and glove and return to the mound after Jen got tagged out at first.
Ethan managed to stay focused as the innings progressed, somehow maintaining the speed and placement of his pitches on muscle memory, never following his train of thought to the past, never ruminating on his uncle’s bullshit. Until the final inning when he found himself in an almost identical position as before. Gritting his teeth, he did his best to ignore the words of his uncle, but Lawrence kept moving closer, taking a half step nearer with every foul Jen hit.
And shekepthitting fouls.
Still, Lawrence grew closer, close enough for Ethan to see the redness staining his cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Was Lawrence drunk?
Seriously? Another drunken coach attacking him? What the hell was his life?
Again, Ethan tried to drown out Lawrence’s muttering. It worked, at least for a few more fouls, until a few stray words caught Ethan’s attention.
“—that girl and her brats—”
How does he even know about Ivy?
“Shut up,” growled Ethan through clenched teeth. At his sides, his hands clenched and unclenched, fisting the fabric of his pants. One eye twitched.
“You know she’s just using you, trying to get close to you for a payday.”
“What the fuck?” Ethan yanked his helmet off, turning to fully face his uncle. “Don’t talk about her.” His fingers dug into the foam lining his helmet, his knuckles going white with the force as seething anger flashed through him like lightning.
Crossing the last few feet between them, Lawrence got as close to him as possible without touching him. “You can’t possibly think anyone would want to be with someone like you—you with your anger issues and—”
Harkness and an umpire appeared to one side, but Lawrence didn’t seem to care as he continued ranting. “And another thing—a fucking female manager? What is the league coming to if they’re lettingwomenin now.” Lawrence spat on the red clay lining the white chalk of the third base line. “My father—”
“Okay, that’s enough out of you,” the umpire, a tall man with an impressive mustache, called over Lawrence’s yelling.
Startled at the sudden appearance of people around him, Ethan looked around to find his teammates standing in a semi-circle around the unpleasant scene. Like they had his back. Like they were a team.
Still reeling, Ethan watched the home umpire striding toward them, taking his place with the others. After conferring for a few minutes with both managers, the umpires stood to one side until they returned to the group that had since grown to include most of the Tornadoes.
With a press of a button to the mic clipped to his collar, the head umpire’s voice reverberated throughout the stadium, cutting through the confusion. “After review, Tornadoes Manager Lawrence Lorne will be ejected for unsportsmanlike conduct.” A laugh bubbled up Ethan’s throat, but he clamped a hand over his mouth before it escaped. Lawrence reacted about as well as one would expect—more cursing and yelling, and two umpires had to practically drag him off the field.
A wave drew his attention to the area behind the dugout. Ivy, Laura, and Frankie stood in a row. Worry creased Ivy’s face. Laura looked pissed. Frankie cracked his knuckles ominously as Lawrence was led away.
When the game resumed, it was clear that both teams were ready for it to end. Ethan watched from the bullpen as Adams, the relief pitcher, ended the game with the fastest three strikeouts he’d ever seen. Then it was over, and Ethan was so relieved that he didn’t bother looking at the score.
Post-game was a blur of reporters and questions he didn’t listen to. Exhaustion gripped his limbs, slowing his movements, and he wanted nothing more than to leave the stadium behind.
Ivy, his parents, and everyone else waited for him as he exited the locker room. Being Laura Lorne and Jimmy Fisher came with certain perks, Ethan thought ruefully. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be alone or to be with them for the comfort that came from surrounding himself with family. Either way, he was glad to see them as they gathered around him.
“You okay?” Ivy whispered in his ear as she wrapped her arms around him.
He didn’t know how to answer.
Everything he hadn’t had the opportunity to process throughout the night settled over him, its weight heavy and draining.
“I’m not sure.” His voice sounded tired, even to him. “Lawrence said awful things about you and Emily, and—”
“What did he say?” Laura’s voice cut through, sharp and cold as a knife.
“It doesn’t matter, now. He’s gone, isn’t he?” The umpires had pulled him aside after the game for more clarification, and it was humiliating enough to tell them his history and his uncle’s words. He didn’t want to go through it all again.
