Chapter Nine

It was top of the seventh and the Whalers led by three. Normally, Sawyer spent each game so zoned in that nothing else existed. Tonight, when it mattered, the ripple and roar of the stadium and the fans was seeping into his brain. Distracting him. There was no room for error and he felt like he’d been messing up all night.

Some hidden, hard to reach spot behind his kneecap was on fire. The ever-present throb that couldn’t be ignored was what opened him to all of the things he usually tuned out. And it was costing them.

Twice now, he’d screwed up the communication, sending a signal to the pitcher to throw a fast ball when he’d meant curveball. Worse, he’d been set to block a play at home for the last runner and he’d flinched before he applied the tag. Maybe no one saw it, but Sawyer felt it. It was his job to take those hits, to block the plate and make the right calls. People thought a catcher did only that—catch—but it was so much more. The job involved having an eye on everything at once, knowing which calls to make and reacting to plays in a split second. The position demanded he be at his best and it grated on his nerves like cleats on a chalkboard that he wasn’t.

The new batter approached, and Sawyer ran through what he knew about him in his mind, coming up blank. Unsure of his strengths, Sawyer looked back at the dugout to where the team manager, Mickey Sarola, stood, eyes locked on Sawyer. He might not have noticed his all-star catcher flinching as the last runner slid in, but Mickey definitely knew Sawyer was off his game.

Mickey assisted him with the call, and Sawyer sent the signal, willing his body to block out the pain. If the guy hit it to the outfield, he’d be okay. The squatting was hard enough right now. Popping up to cover a ground ball to an infield hit might land him on his face.

The ball sailed to the right field, giving the player plenty of time to coast onto second base and allowing Sawyer a miniscule reprieve. Unfortunately, in those seconds, his mind wandered, a vivid and visual loop of his injury flashing into his head. Sawyer sucked in a breath, feeling like he was inhaling the dirt.

It was like he could actually feel the impact all over again, the player sliding, the full force of his weight hitting Sawyer’s knee at the exact wrong angle.

The next hitter wasn’t known for stealing, but Sawyer worried tonight would be the night the guy would try. It was the playoffs. All of them were all in. But if he made it to first and tried to steal second, Sawyer would need to pop up and gun the ball to second. With only two innings left, they still had a chance. As long as Sawyer got out of his own head and back in the actual game. For the first time in his career, he didn’t know if he’d be able to make the necessary and routine plays.

He didn’t say a word when Doc stretched him out after the ice bath. It took almost as much effort not to respond to the movements as it did to avoid Oliver’s assessing gaze. They’d lost, and it sucked. The post-game mood in the locker room was a lot more subdued than before.

The first group of guys had left on bus one and would head straight to the airport. Sawyer and Oliver were on bus two, giving them a bit more time.

“How’s it feel?” Using two fingertips, Doc put pressure around the kneecap. It took everything in Sawyer not to react even though it felt like he was pushing a narrow, jagged piece of glass into his bone.

What was that? “It’s good. I’m tired. We just lost, so I’m pissed on top of that. Can I go?”

Oliver side-eyed him, more than used to grouchy or injured players. “The bruising is gone, but it’s swelling again.”

“I’ll ice it later.” Later. When he got home and could be himself without pretending. Don’t have to pretend with Addie. Their impromptu date the other night had been one of the most relaxing and enjoyable evenings he’d had in a while.

No one else was around, but Oliver still leaned in closer. “Don’t lie. I’d rather know what I’m dealing with even if it’s not good.”

Sawyer’s stomach swirled. Being on a team meant trusting the guys who had his back. But he wasn’t missing out on one game in this series.

“It’s a bit tender. I’ll put a compression wrap on it for the flight home and take some ibuprofen.”

Oliver sighed but nodded. The flight home was uneventful other than the dull throb. The guys had all wallowed in silence, which suited Sawyer just fine. It gave him time to let his mind wander. Though, most of the time, it’d wandered to Addie and her sweet laugh, her carefree gaze, and the fierceness that lit her eyes on fire when she was talking about something that mattered to her.

He didn’t walk through his door until nearly midnight. When he found his brother sleeping on his couch, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Jesus, Brooks. What are you doing here?”

Brooks rose into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. Three beer cans sat on Sawyer’s coffee table, and the containers from his takeout the night before were empty.

“Came to hang out. You weren’t here. Must have crashed.”

Sawyer sank into the armchair across from his sectional. Not because he wanted to catch up with his older brother but because he needed to get off his feet.

“You may have heard the Slammers made the playoffs, so I was sort of busy.”

Brooks went back and forth between using his brother for connections, status, and money and forgetting what Sawyer did for work. It wasn’t his fault, though, according to their mom. Everything had been easy for Sawyer, and Brooks had always gotten the broken side of the sword.

From the minute Sawyer had signed his major league deal, his mother had started saying that now, finally, Brooks would have a leg up in the world. As long as Sawyer didn’t mind his older brother standing on him to get it, there was no problem.

Last year, when Sawyer had gone to his mom’s to find Brooks and Sawyer’s then-girlfriend making out, things had changed. While before he might have humored Brooks and his harebrained ideas, now he didn’t even want to talk to him.

“I’m tired and need to go to bed.” Sawyer hoped Brooks wasn’t here to pitch another business venture or ask for a loan. Yeah, he had money, and he invested it so he wouldn’t be broke one day, but he was tired of being a walking ATM for his family.

“You guys win?” Brooks picked up a beer can, shook it, and frowned at its emptiness.

“No.”

His brother sat up, suddenly more awake. “Too bad, little brother. You win some, you lose some, right?”

Sawyer rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Lena and I are getting married.”

Jesus. He had not seen that coming.

He hadn’t been in love with Lena, but it still sucked on several levels to have her hook up with his brother while he was on the road. His mother had waxed poetic about not being able to control who a person fell in love with and for the sake of peace, Sawyer had swallowed it down.

“Congratulations.”

Brooks smiled. “Thanks, man. We’re going to have an engagement party. I was thinking maybe you could get us a group reservation at Meat & Eats.”

Sawyer stood up. Of course Brooks wanted something. And if Sawyer said no, his mother would call him nonstop the next day asking why he couldn’t share his success and happiness with his family. He would have walked away from them if not for his grams.

“Sure. I’ll see what I can do. I need to get some sleep. Let yourself out.”

Brooks stood up. “That’s it? You don’t want to toast your big brother? Have a drink with me.”

“Another time. Seriously, though, congratulations. You and Lena were meant for each other.” Sawyer managed to make that sound like a good thing.

“We really were. She’s my everything, man. You should see the rock I bought her.”

Sawyer’s muscles coiled tight. “Oh yeah? Good to see you’re not blowing through money and had some to spend on it.”

Brooks rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, actually, about that.”

Weariness crept into every bone of Sawyer’s body. “What about it?”

“That check you gave me to pay off my truck? I used it for the ring, and now the payments are behind.”

He wanted to throw something or maybe wrap his fingers around his brother’s shoulders and shake sense into him.

“I can’t do this right now. I just can’t.”

“Goddamn it, Sawyer. You have more money than you’ll ever need. I can’t go without a truck, and what was I supposed to do? Propose to Lena with some knockoff bubblegum ring?”

“I seriously cannot do this right now. If you don’t leave right this minute, I’m going to say or do something that we’ll both regret. I’ll talk to you in a few days. Now get out.”

Brooks shook his head, cursing under his breath, but took him seriously and slammed his way out of Sawyer’s home.

Sawyer sank back into his chair, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

All he’d ever wanted was to play ball. He’d had tunnel vision for that one goal and had no idea, when he’d made it to the big leagues, how much his life and the people around him would change.

He’d lost the rose-colored glasses he accused Addie of wearing within the first couple years of his career. Though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, it was refreshing to be in her presence. She was so sure everything was going to turn out the way it should. Well, if he could get her to focus on getting his brother off his back instead of asking questions about his knee, things would be better.

He’d showered after the game, but nothing beat the pulsating jets and rainfall faucets in his own bathroom. Stepping in, he worked to wash away the disappointment and worry. The water sluiced over his skin, rejuvenating muscles he’d worked too hard. Tipping his head back, he pushed his hands through his hair, eyes closed. He’d been sure, after the three-game break, he was coming back stronger than ever. A strange, sharp twinge last week had him connecting with his college buddy who’d recommended an MRI. That wasn’t something Sawyer could get under the radar.

When he finally fell into bed long after midnight, so many things whirled in his brain that it was a wonder he wasn’t spinning. His brother was engaged, his knee ached, they’d lost the first game, and he’d been a dick to Addie the other day. It was the last thing he fell asleep thinking about, and somehow, the image of her face pushed everything else away and he was able to get some rest.