Full Count (The Catcher Series Book 1) (41 page)

            At first I watch her enjoying the rosy aroma from the
bubbles, but eventually she rests her eyes on me. I think she
’
s
finally fucking relaxing for the first time in probably her entire life. I
swear that girl is always doing something or running somewhere. 

             “This is nice,” she admires my gesture.

             “I just want you to relax,”
I tell
her.

             “I meant being just with you and getting away from
home,” she clarifies.

             “Oh, so you like me?” I tease, splashing her a
little but not enough to make a mess.

             “I never thought that waking up with someone else
next to me would be my favorite part of the day, but with you, it always is,” she
poetically shares. Fuck people who think guys don
’
t get
butterflies from hearing their girl say how they feel about them. This is the
best damn thing anyone has ever said to me.

             “Can I tell you something?” I hope. When she nods
energetically, I add, “If you need to steal my man card for this, feel free.”

            A smile appears as she giggles, “Stop it. What is it?”

            I move to kneel in between her spread legs and steady
myself by holding onto one of them. The other hand I use to hold the back of
her neck in preparation for kissing her.
God, she
’s
beautiful.
Her fiery eyes connect with mine for an intense moment
before I reveal the most vulnerable version of myself.

             “Every single time I wake up with you in my arms I
’
m further convinced that we belong together.” I wait nervously,
hoping she won
’
t take my declaration lightly. I mean what
I fucking say. Another day with her is always another blessing.

            Buzz closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as if
she
’
s inhaling my words to store inside of her. Her
natural smile makes my chest heat with happiness. I try to memorize this
moment, the peace that I know she
’
s feeling.
I don
’
t know what life has in store for us; all I
know is that I want to experience whatever it is with her.

            When she leans forward, I know that
’
s
my cue to kiss her long and hard.

            That weekend was the greatest fucking weekend of my
seventeen years of life. Yes, we fucked, but that isn
’
t
the only reason why it was so awesome. We finally got to be alone and just be
together with no hiding or drama. At home we are together every day as best
friends, which is great, but being able to freely kiss my woman is even better.

            My parents questioned why I was gone all weekend with
the key to the cabin, but I told them that Buzz and I went up there to get
closure with the accident. It isn
’
t a total lie. They at
least pretended to buy it.

            Returning home is a struggle trying to keep my hands
off of Buzz. Our only saving grace is that she sleeps over at my house almost
every night. And you can bet your ass that she is pretty convincing; we fuck in
my bed often. We always spice it up in some way with role playing and trying to
remain unheard to my family. My favorite thing was walking into my closet and
being floored seeing Buzz standing in the middle of it wearing only my Red
Devils baseball jersey. Damn that girl makes me go crazy.

            She also makes me go crazy on the sideline of her softball
games in spring. It isn
’
t always entirely for the same
reasons, however.

            Cara calls the pitches better in most games than I
would in her position, and that
’
s saying a lot considering
I
’
m her position on my team. I give her all the credit in
the fucking world for keeping Buzz
’
s pitching game a
mystery to our opponents. All until this one game.

            It
’
s midseason; we
’
re
undefeated and up three games to the next closest team in our division.
McCallum, the other coaches, and I aren
’
t worried about
our record or the league standings. The confidence we have in Buzz and Cara
running the field is staggering. By the way, Buzz is the only sophomore captain
any of us on the coaching staff have ever known in the history of Hinsdale
Central softball. We all agree she deserves it. Her senior partner in crime
Cara also reigns with her, and they seem unstoppable.

            Buzz has her special padded hat that she fucking
hates wearing because she said it feels like she
’
s wearing
a cloud on her head. Her batting helmet has a face mask for additional
protection as well as an extra layer of padding on the inside. The girl never
bats an eye on the mound or at the plate; in fact, I have never seen her so
confident on a softball diamond.

            On an overcast Tuesday evening, the girls are playing
Willowbrook on our home diamond with Buzz starting at the pitcher
’
s
mound. It
’
s the fourth inning in another shutout when it
hits her in front of what would be a sell-out crowd if the high school sold
tickets to regular season games.

            From the dugout, I
’
m up against
the fence, my fingers gripping onto the wrought iron in anticipation for Buzz
making the last out of the inning so she can come in and bat. It
’
s
a habit of mine to stand right up against the fence and watch through the open
space that
’
s the doorway in and out of the dugout. It
gives me the opportunity to easily run out to the mound, if needed. During the
first game of the season one of the juniors who is new to varsity this year
whined at me that she couldn
’
t see the batter, and after I
gave her a death glare, she and everyone else shut the fuck up the rest of the
season. There
’
s a reason that girl is on the bench and my
girl is on the mound as a sophomore.

           
Buzz
’
s
curveball has significantly increased in speed from last year, which surprises
everyone - everyone except for me, of course. We worked on that constantly
during her off season so that by the time spring rolled around, she was ready.
What we hadn
’
t anticipated is someone actually hitting it.

            This girl from Willowbrook is huge. I mean she makes
some of our football players look scrawny. She
’
s their
catcher, and when she steps up to the plate I instantly call “time” to go talk
to Buzz. If she isn
’
t nervous about having Tonka with a
mean bat only forty-three feet away from her, I
’
m enough
of a fucking wreck for the both of us.

             “
You can
’
t
just call ‘time
’
whenever you feel like telling me you
love me,” Buzz teases when I
’
m close enough to her on the
mound that no one else can hear her. I have my back turned to Cara, which
basically says,
fuck off,
to her. It
’
s just me and
Buzz for the moment, and her comment is exactly what I expect from her: sassy
yet flirty. She has no makeup on and looks like she could be on the next cover
of Sports Illustrated, but that's not why I ran out here.

             “As much as I do, that
’
s not
why I called ‘time
’
,” I alert her, giving her a serious
look.

            Immediately she snaps back into player-coach mode. “Oh,
then what?” she asks. She has struck out almost every single one of the batters
so far. The only ones she hasn
’
t had balls that were
caught or made for a play to get an out. Basically, Buzz is pitching a perfect
game. It
’
s only the fourth inning, and she hasn
’
t had one all season, but again, that
’
s
not why I interrupt the game. That would be the stupidest move on my part if I
jinx her perfect game.

             “
I don’
t want you to pitch
timid to this girl,” I begin, but then I realize that I kind of
do
want
exactly that.

             “
I won
’
t,”
she replies, scrunching her eyebrows at me in complete confusion. I can
’
t blame her. Doubting her at all is totally foreign to me, and
it tastes like Asian curry - pure shit.

             “She
’
s known for hitting line
drives, and she
’
s a beast. I just want you to be careful
defending her,” I give her the best professional advice that I can. Nodding,
she twists the ball between her fingertips inside of her glove. Before I walk
away from her, I add quietly, “And I do love you, sweetheart.”

            I walk backwards towards the dugout so I
’
m able to watch her hide her giddy feelings. Sure enough, Buzz
drops her head and pretends to fix her hat as she looks at the ground. But I
see her smirk before she can hide it.

            Buzz is smart, probably the smartest player on the
field at all times. She will never throw a pitch without being absolutely
focused on the batter at hand. The umpire looks like his knees are going to
buckle underneath him as Buzz takes her final breath before the pitch. Her arm
circles around, and a nasty curveball soars towards Cara.

            It
’
s only the first pitch to
this girl, but somehow Tonka makes contact, and the ball comes flying back even
faster in a direct line towards Buzz. No way would anyone have had enough time
to react and get out of the way, not even a fly. She hits the ground so fast
that the batter doesn
’
t even attempt to run to first base.
The entire crowd gasps and immediately goes silent. I can
’
t
even determine where she got hit; all I know is that she
’
s
down and incredibly still.

            I shake the fence and its rattling is the only noise
for miles as I release my grip on it. “
Buzz!
” I yell as I
retrace my steps back to the pitcher's mound where she lay. I panic that this
event will erase all the progress she has made in the last ten months. She isn
’
t at a hundred percent, but she passed her six month exam and
has the doctor
’
s blessing to get her driver
’s
license. I can’
t tell you the last time I saw her unconscious, but it
brings back so many horrific memories. “Sweetheart, can you hear me? Blink if
you can hear me.”

            Holy shit. Her eyelids actually move. They barely
open and then close and then do it again. She isn
’
t
unconscious.
Deep breath
. The poor girl is clearly in so much agony.

            McCallum and Trainer Rick are a few feet behind me,
and I look up at them as I squat next to Buzz and lightly squeeze her wrist.

             “Call the ambulance over,” I demand calmly.

            They both nod, and Trainer Rick sprints down the
third base line to cut through the fence and get to the parking lot. The
ambulance is parked further down in between the softball diamond and the soccer
field where another game is being played.

             “Bianca?” McCallum says softly, but all it does is
make Buzz moan. And it
’
s not any type of moan I ever want
to hear again. She still hasn
’
t even tried to move, and I
think it
’
s because she knows that
’
s
the smartest thing to do, to stay still.

            When I look over at McCallum who takes the spot next
to me, the look in his eyes is so fatherly that I almost jump out of my skin.
He sees right through me, and I know Buzz and I are fucked.

            I see red ambulance lights flash as they near the
third base side fence. A group of paramedics and Trainer Rick step onto the
field as the girls on our team huddle in the outfield. Tiffany and Cara are the
only ones that don
’
t look like they just saw their
teammate take a bullet. They
’
re holding each other
’
s hands but have confident, stern looks upon their faces. It
’
s exactly what Buzz would want to see from two of her best
friends and teammates. Tiffany isn
’
t even nervously
hacking at her neck, so I know she
’
s not too worried.

             “Hey, B,” I coo as her eyes open in a more permanent
manner. Her eyelids look heavy, but she
’
s determined to
stay awake. I
’
m still holding onto her wrist, which is
more of a safety blanket for me than for her. It allows me to feel her pulse
and hold onto her without totally confirming what McCallum
’
s
eyes see.

             “Wow,” she mumbles breathlessly. Her eyes close
again. It
’
s as if that one word exhausts her completely.

             “
Just don’
t move. They
’
re going to get you on a stretcher,” I coach her in case she
suddenly has any crazy ideas.

             “
Wait,
” she mutters. I know
what she
’
s going to try to say. This girl wants to finish
the damn game. Yeah right. The paramedics are taking forever to get their shit
together anyways, so I give her a look that says
go ahead
. “Did... I
have… a perfect… game?”

            McCallum and I both share a light laugh. It was only
the fourth inning, but technically she did. “Yes,” I tell her. I look down at
her left hand covered by her glove and the damn ball clasped inside of it.
Unbelievable. She fucking caught that rocket, and the force from it is what
knocked her down? Wow. That explains why Tonka didn’t go to first base. “How
are you feeling, tough girl?”