Cleat Catcher (The Cleat Chaser Duet Book 2) (19 page)

“Jesus Christ, when are we trading you?” Coach chortled and walked away.

Ramirez spun around to face Coach’s back and held his arms out wide. “Well goddamn, man. I’m just trying to help around here. A little weed never hurt anybody. Shit.”

The other guys grabbed their mitts as our hitter grounded out to third. Ramirez leaned up by my ear. “I’m new around here, but I know respect when I see it. These fellas got your back. I do too,
Captain
.”

His words resonated with me. I struggled to walk to the end of the dugout where my replacement was strapping on his gear. The kid was a rookie. His fingers shook as he reached for his glove. He’d played a few games, but we were usually up eight runs or so any time he saw the field.

When I walked up, he dropped his glove. I could see the fear on his face and sensed it in his movements. It was the same fear I’d had when I started my first big league game. It was important that I make him comfortable. He was in charge now, and the team needed him. Giving him confidence was paramount, and I couldn’t help him if I moped around, worried about my own problems.

“Hey, you’ve done this a thousand times. Okay?”

He nodded and pulled the chest protector over his head. He started to hook it around his waist when I grabbed the strap at his neck and yanked him over to me, mainly because my leg hurt too much to stand up and get in his face.

“Are you scared?” I glared at him. He was clearly scared shitless, and I had a responsibility to make sure he didn’t fuck up. “Be honest with me.”

“Y-yeah. I am.”

“Get over it. You’re in charge out there.” I pulled him in closer, so that he was inches from my face. “That’s your motherfucking field out there. You wear the gear. You’re in charge. Your attitude reflects on those guys. If you’re scared, they’re scared. Now walk out on the field like you’re a fucking all-star and command your fucking troops. Got me?”

Something changed in his eyes. He straightened up and stuck his chest out. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” I’d done the hard-ass bit, and now I needed to reassure him. “The fact you have that uniform on means you’re good enough to be here. You’re as good as me. Play smart. Be yourself. Play
your
game.”

“I will. I promise, B.”

“Good.”

He turned to take the field.

“Hey, kid?”

His head whipped back around to me. “Yeah?”

“I’m right here, man. I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got
their
back.” I glanced out to the field. “And I’ve got
yours
.” I held out my fist and he tapped it with his catcher’s mitt. “Go kick some ass and take my job.”

It was the worst advice I could’ve given him for me personally, but it was best for the team. That was the kind of thing that’d earned me respect with the guys over the years, and I wanted to instill that same thing into the rook.

I smacked the rookie on the ass as he strutted into the clubhouse. The kid hit a walk off double in the bottom of the ninth to win the game. It was huge, and I couldn’t have been more fucking proud of him as he showed me a sheepish grin.

“Thanks for helping me with my nerves. I don’t think I would’ve played that well if it hadn’t been for our little talk.”

On the inside, I could already feel myself being pushed out of my position. The kid was damn good. He was young, and inexperienced, but he had talent in spades. “Bullshit, rook. That was all you.” I pounded a finger into his chest. “
You
did that, not me.”

“All the same. You’re still the Cap.” He gave me a nod. It was the gesture players used to show respect to one another. “Thanks.”

“You just wait until my kn—” I stopped myself and cleared my throat as Ingram stalked past us in the clubhouse. He glared at me. “Wait until this stomach bug passes. You’re going to have to fight for that spot.”

Rook started to say something else when I heard a crack, and his eyes shot wide open. “Holy shit!” He winced and reached back for his ass when I heard a familiar cackle.

“Atta boy, rook! Nice rip out there.” Easton had lit him up with a hard slap to the ass. It was his trademark celebratory gesture that often left people unable to sit for a week.

I couldn’t contain my laughter as the rookie walked away with the quickness. “Damn, that shit sounded brutal.”

“Yeah, my hand kind of stings a bit. Got that ass good.” Easton shook his hand out to the side. “I saw Ingram walk into Coach’s office. It won’t be pretty.”

“Coach is going to tell him I have the flu. Try and hold him over until I can see the doctor.” I stripped off my jersey and tossed it into the big hamper by the lockers. The musty smell would be enough to send most people running for the door, but we were all used to it. I’d miss it if I had to hang up my cleats for good.

“Good. Maybe he’ll buy it.”

“Not a chance, man. I’m so fucked. Doc is going to say I need surgery. It’s been weeks and it’s getting worse. If it’s my ACL, I’m fucking done.”

“Maybe if you’d gone earlier, like smart people told your dumb ass to do, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.” He sat down on the bench in the middle of the room. I sat on the other side, facing the other direction and dropped my head into my hands.

He bent over and started to untie one of his shoes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I know what has to be going through your mind right now. Just stop assuming the worst-case scenario. Knees are funny. You know this.”

“I know, but there’s a lot riding on whatever the doctor says. I could be released or traded.” I scrubbed my hands up and down my cheeks. “I know Nik will go with me if I’m traded. But she’s excited and doing well at her job. I can’t ask her to leave everything. And what will I do? Baseball is all I know.” I turned back to Easton.

“Don’t think like that.” He sighed. It was the hardest thing for a baseball player to talk about — when their playing days were over. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you if it’s serious. Wish the front office could see more than numbers. You make everyone so much better out there. You make me better. It’s a tough situation.”

I looked down and saw the whites in his knuckles from the grip he had on the bench.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. Nik loves you. She’ll go with you. I don’t doubt that for a second. I wish I had better advice to give. The whole situation sucks a fat-ass dick.”

Hollers rang out from Coach’s office. It wasn’t uncommon when he and Ingram were left alone together.

“The flu my ass. You are so full of shit.” Ingram burst through the door and stalked through the clubhouse, glaring at Easton and me. He had no respect for the game. He’d never played it. Now, he’d aired my shit out for the whole clubhouse to hear.

It’s not like the other guys didn’t know the score, but it wasn’t something that was usually done, out of respect.

My jaw clenched, and I fought the urge to beat the arrogance out of him. Easton must have sensed my frustration. His giant hand gripped my bicep, and he flashed Ingram a big ‘fuck you’ smile. After Ingram was out of earshot, Easton started the conversation back up. “That guy is such a cock monkey. I’d love to get him one on one somewhere and knock some sense into him.”

“Indeed, man.” I attempted to straighten out my bad leg and winced. Knees were a catcher’s worst nightmare, and I knew the day would come eventually. All I could do was hope for the best. I exhaled a large breath and a surprising calm came over me. I had nothing to feel guilty about now that Nik knew everything, and there were no secrets between us. We’d figure it out. No matter what, she’d be by my side. In that moment, I realized I’d finally found something more important than baseball. Something that could last forever.

I opened the front door to my apartment, and Nik lounged on the couch watching television. Her eyes lit up when they met mine, and I could tell she was trying to tamp down her excitement about something. It must have been something to do with her job — either that or her mom had called offering a full apology and an all-expenses-paid vacation. Not likely on the mom front.

She grabbed the remote and clicked off the TV.

“What’s up, babe?” I hobbled over to the table, wincing with each step. My keys clanked together when I dropped them on top of the hard wood.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. How’d it go with Coach and the—” She stared at my knee.

I had the feeling she was holding back her good news, but I wanted to hear about the awesome things happening in her career. If it helped take my mind off baseball for even a second, it was worth it. I wanted to be happy for her, because she was amazing and didn’t deserve my shit bringing her down.

“I want to hear your news first. You’re excited about something. Tell me what it is.”

“It’s nothing, really.” Her hands were trembling, and I could sense how hard it was for her to keep from exploding with her good news. I wasn’t about to ruin it for her.

“Woman, tell me. Do I have to put my head between your legs to get the secret from you? I mean, I’m willing to make that sacrifice, if I must.” I wiped my hand across my mouth and grinned.

“Mmm, a ride on your tongue does sound mighty fun. I’m not going to lie. Okay, I’ll tell you.” Excitement bubbled from her as she clapped her hands. I loved watching her smile at me. I wanted to see it every day for the rest of my life.

She finally calmed herself enough to speak. “So, Kyrie loved my piece. And she’s going to show it to Graciela! Eek!”

“What? That’s amazing, babe. The one with the Cyrano guy?” I sat up straight and did my best deep-voice impression of Cerrano from Major League. “It is very bad to steal Jobu’s rum.” I leaned in toward her. “It is
very
bad.”

“Huh?” She stared at me the same way I looked at her when she told me about designer hand bags.

“Major League? You’ve never seen it?” I returned her puzzled gaze.

“Not a clue.”

“First of all, that’s a fucking travesty that needs to be remedied. But for right now, tell me more. I want to hear everything. What else did Kyrie say?” I pulled her into my side and she nuzzled into my chest.

“Well, if it goes well—” She popped back up on the couch. Her smile was electric, and I couldn’t help but grin. “—and I’m not saying it will. But, I could be on track to making editor. At freaking
Style and Substance
!”

The radiant look on her face had my stomach churning so bad I thought I might really have the flu. I tried my best to be as happy as she was, but remembered that honesty was what we were aiming for these days. I looked down at the floor, wishing circumstances were different.

“Braden? What is it?” It was her concerned voice that I usually tried to avoid. “It’s your knee, isn’t it?”

I wanted my knee to be healthy. I wanted to scoop her up and carry her off to the bedroom, fuck her silly, and then take her out to celebrate her accomplishment. Why now? Why was there always something that fucked everything up?

“I want to be happy for you. Scratch that. I
am
happy for you. That’s just fucking amazing, Nik, and I am so proud of you. More than you know. You’re making your dreams come true. But I’m trying to be honest. Because that’s kind of our thing now. Things don’t look so great for me. Coach wants me to see the doctor tomorrow.”

Nik fell back into the cushions of the couch. “Well, you
do
need to see one.”

“I know. I’m scared of what he’ll say. What if he tells me I can’t play anymore?” My eyes started to water. I didn’t cry often, and lately I’d been a total pussy on that front. But it was baseball. It had been my life for so long. Nik was my future, but admitting my dream was coming to an end wouldn’t be easy. I took her palm in my hand and pressed it to my face. “What if he tells me I’m done?”

The look on her face crushed my soul. I hated myself for dropping all of this on her during one of the most exciting times in her life.

“Let’s just wait and see what the doctor says. We’ll figure it out. We’re a team, you and me.”

Her words made sense, but they didn’t match her expression. I’d sucked all the life out of her. I couldn’t handle the fleeting thought that she might change her mind about coming with me if I got traded. Anxiety coursed through my veins and settled in my stomach. It was all so much easier when I kept the shit to myself and let people enjoy themselves without worrying about my problems.