Page 30 of Baseball and Shifters (The Players of Eldergrove Academy #1)

Liam

T here’s always an electric feel to the atmosphere on game days. The way the air hums as the crowd buzzes with a barely-contained energy. The scent of the field, the way the cleats squeak, the rustle of jerseys as we warm up on the field, every bit of it gets my blood pumping.

Something about today feels different though. Maybe it’s that for the first time since we all bonded, Rachel is sitting up there watching live and in person from the VIP box with D’s parents. Derrick and I delivered Rachel and her girls there before making our way down to the field. I was worried at first that it may be too much for Rachel but she handled it like a champ.

When we entered the box, Helene rushed for Derrick, pulling him into a hug first. She finally released him only to turn on Rachel. I could see the way she stiffened at first contact but it only took a second for her to relax in Helene’s arms. A good mom hug is healing for the soul.

By the time D and I made our way back down to the locker rooms Helene was huddled with Rachel and her roommates having some sort of very animated conversation about different kinds of pickles. I glance up at the mirrored windows of the VIP box and though I can’t see her, the knowledge that she is here watching us play and also being protected by Demi and Helene warms something inside me.

Rolling my shoulders, I step up to the pitcher’s mound, the weight of the ball familiar and steady in my hand. Lucas stretches at third, Bas casually taps his glove at first, and D squats into his stance behind home.

The other team takes their positions and the ump calls for the game to begin.

That’s when Trent decides it’s time to open his stupid fucking mouth.

“Don’t let the pressure of being back get to you, dog boy,” he hurls at Lucas from his place in the outfield, his bald head is covered by his hat but it seems pretty clear to me that he took that basic reversal spell. That is if the glued on eyebrows are anything to go by. “Would be a real shame for your girl to see you lose… again. Bet by the end of the game, she’ll be going home with me.”

Derrick lets out a low warning growl just loud enough that everyone on the field can hear. Bas turns from his place on first to level Trent with a deadly glare.

I ignore the kangaroo fuck and throw a fastball at the distracted batter. The idiot is so caught up in Hopper’s shit talk, he doesn’t even swing, earning his first strike.

Lucas laughs behind me. “You always this chatty before you strike out?” he asks, voice cool and even. “Or are you just trying to distract us from those sad ass caterpillars glued to your forehead?”

That gets a laugh out damn near the entire field, I’m pretty sure I even hear the ump snort out a chuckle.

I throw my next pitch as Trent continues his little melodrama.

“Real funny, mutt,” he sneers. “We didn’t need you last week and we don’t need you now. I hope your little fox is watching when you blow it. Might finally open her eyes to who the real alpha male is.”

I bark out a laugh before throwing one last ball at the first batter. As the batter walks back to their dugout, I turn to Trent. “You? You’re the dollar-store version of Mr. Clean, bro. And why are you acting like you had anything to do with our win last week? Pretty sure it was Bas who won that game and you, well you just struck out every time you were at bat.”

Shaking my head at his pure idiocy, I get ready to strike the next guy out. The first pitch is perfectly down the middle, but too fast for him as it hits the back of D’s glove faster than he can swing. The insult match continues as Bas joins in.

“Yeah man, I mean you’ve got some balls to be running your mouth like that when you look like an off brand Stanley Tucci wax figure,” Bas tosses in for extra punch.

Laughter rings out around the field and my lip tips up as I let another pitch fly, the thud of it landing in D’s glove almost drowns out Trent’s next words.

“Laugh all you want,” Trent says, low and sharp. “Doesn’t matter what you clowns have to say. I’ve got back-up. Contacts. People who know how to take care of problems, starting with that little fox bitch you are all so obsessed with.”

The laughter dies instantly.

I freeze, ready to end this game right now and take his ass down. Derrick stands from behind the plate, tall and imposing, eyes locked on Trent.

“You want to run that back, Hopper?” Derrick asks with a deadly calm.

“I said what I said.” Trent spits in the dirt as if he didn’t just threaten the mate of the biggest predator on campus. “You think your daddy makes you untouchable Ashford? Well think again. You’re not, none of you are. People like me, well, let’s just say we’ve got options.”

The ump, sensing the danger that Trent’s oblivious to, claps his hands together drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright boys, enough jawin’, play ball or get off the field!”

I step back on the mound, rolling my shoulders again, trying to shake off the chill creeping down my spine. Trent’s always been an asshole, but this, this feels different. This feels cold and calculated like he might actually be a bigger threat than we realized.

Derrick crouches back in his spot behind home plate and signals for a fastball low and outside. I give him a small nod before winding up and hurling the pitch like I’m throwing it right through Trent’s smug face.

The batter swings and misses for the third time, a satisfying thwack sounds as the ball hits Derrick’s glove.

“Two out, one to go,” D says, tossing the ball back to me.

The next batter is able to get a hit, but Lucas catches it, giving the Obsidian Hollow Shadows their third out. We file into the dugout in silence, the entire team on edge after Trent’s comments. Coach barks orders at us, trying to get us out of our heads and back in the game. Without a word, I know the four of us are on the same page. We’ll find out what Trent’s up to. But right now, we have a game to win. We won’t let him distract us. Instead, we’ll take the building rage and channel it to defeat the Shadows. We find our rhythm, D and I syncing up like we are one person instead of two. Bas or Lucas catch nearly every ball that the batters are able to hit. But no matter how hard we attempt to lock in, I can still feel it.

Trent’s threat hangs over us, like a looming storm cloud, ready to downpour on us and ruin our day at any moment.

Between innings I glance up to the box and wonder what Rachel is doing right now. I imagine she’s sitting with Helene, watching the game, and discussing her favorite desserts because Helene is one hell of a baker. Whatever she’s doing up there, she’s completely unaware of the target Trent’s just painted on her back. But he won’t be getting to our mate, not on my watch.

This game may be all about the points and wins on paper, but the game Trent tried to play today? That’s personal.

And if Trent wants to play dirty, he better be ready for what happens when our pack bites back.

The game ends in a landslide win. We kept the other team to zero while managing to bring at least one player home every inning. The scoreboard flashes and the crowd erupts, my body buzzes with a mix of adrenalin and rage. We pulled it off despite Trent’s attempt to throw our best players off their game.

Inside the locker room, the energy is loud and chaotic. Lockers bang open, bags thud as they hit the benches, and the hum of the showers filters over everything. Bas tosses his gloves into his locker with a vicious grin.

“That was one hell of a win, even with Howie Mandel-lite over there running his mouth,” Bas says, dropping down on the bench between Derrick and Lucas.

Lucas snorts. “Can’t believe he had the audacity to try rattling us considering he didn’t even make it to second base once.”

“He couldn’t even make it to first,” Derrick says, dragging a towel over his face. “Both literally and figuratively.”

I toss my cleats in my locker and join them on the bench. “Yeah, well, if he doesn’t stop talking about our mate, he’ll have a whole lot more to worry about than strike-outs and super-glued brows.”

As if summoned by my words, or maybe fate, the locker room door swings open to reveal a very pissed off looking Coach Mace followed by a stone faced Dean Harold. They stride forward with purpose stopping directly in front of where Trent sits staring at the floor like it’s offended him.

“Trent Hopper,” Dean Harold’s tone makes the room go silent. “We need to speak with you.”

Trent straightens up, standing and puffing out his chest like he’s prepared to fight.

“What now?” he asks, disdain dripping from his words.

“You’re being benched and suspended from all team activities, effective immediately,” Dean Harold says.

A collective gasp sounds off around the room, followed by a small chorus of ‘oohs’ more fitting for a group of schoolchildren than a college baseball team.

Coach Mace shoots a glare around the room, effectively silencing it once more.

“As I was saying,” Dean Harold continues. “You are benched for the foreseeable future due to allegations of sexual harassment. There will be a formal investigation and pending the results, you will either be reinstated or expelled.”

“This is a fucking joke, right?” Trent laughs, actually laughs right in their faces. “You’re telling me you’re going to believe some over dramatic little c-”

Coach Mace cuts him off with a deep, guttural growl. “Choose your next words very, very carefully, Hopper. If what you are accused of is found to be true it may be up to the very person you’re insulting how far this follows you. You could be not only expelled but in serious legal trouble if you’re brought before the Tribunal.”

Trent’s eyes dart around, looking for any kind of backup. But the room is ice. Not a single player moves an inch or says a single word to support him.

“You’ll clean out your locker and turn in your equipment immediately,” Dean Harold adds. “You’ll be notified of next steps as the inquiry continues. But I must warn you, even one report during the timeline of the investigation and you will be expelled immediately without warning.”

“You’re seriously going to ruin my life over some bitch’s lies?” Trent shouts.

Lucas rises from his spot and slowly rolls his shoulders before cracking his neck. “No, man. You ruined your own life. All by yourself.”

The dean steps to the side and gestures toward the door.

“Now, Mr. Hopper,” he says, leaving no room for argument.

Trent mutters something under his breath, snatches his bag off the bench with an exaggerated huff, and stomps across the locker room like a sulky toddler, slamming the door behind him for good measure. Without a word, Coach Mace and Dean Harold file out behind him.

When the door closes behind them, the room releases a collective exhale.

Bas lets out a whistle. “Well, that’s one hell of a way to kick off the weekend.”

“Yeah, but we’re just getting started,” Derrick says, a puff of smoke rolling out of his nose. “This wasn’t justice, this was step one.”

I nod in agreement, my wolf still near the surface, ready to tear Trent’s throat out.

We gather our gear and file out of the locker room, the high from our win still pulsing through us only made sweeter by the loss Trent suffered after the game. When we step into the hall, Demi is already there, leaning casually against the wall decked out in Nightclaw gear as if he’s just some every day dude. It takes me a second to catch it but when I see that all four of our numbers are somewhere on his gear a warmth fills my chest.

He’s wearing Lucas’s sixty-four on his jersey and his hat sports my number, forty-six. He’s got a huge foam finger under his arm that I spy Bas’s number eleven on. When he turns to give Derrick a hug an involuntary laugh escapes me. Plastered across the ass of the shorts our Tribunal Leader is wearing is a massive number seven and the name ‘Assford’. I can barely breathe by the time he turns around and gives me a knowing smirk.

Derrick freezes, eyes locked on the back of his father’s shorts. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Demi shrugs, “School spirit, son. You think your mom would let me come without looking the part?”

Lucas lets out a bark of laughter. “Is that… did you seriously put Assford on the back?”

Demi grins mischievously. “I mean it is my last name, I can do what I please with it.”

“Please tell me Mom did not see those shorts,” Derrick mutters, shaking his head and dragging a hand down his face.

“Oh, she saw them, alright,” Demi says with a laugh. “She’s the one who ironed all the letters on.”

That sends us into another round of laughs, the tension from the last few days briefly slips away. But it doesn’t last long. The moment the laughter subsides, Demi’s smile shifts into something a bit more serious.

“Come on,” he says, jerking his head towards the hallway that leads back upstairs to his box. “I do have something to share with you all. I didn’t want to tell you before the game and throw you off but I also didn’t want to tell Rachel without you boys there.”

We fall into step behind him, the mood-shift is sobering. Whatever Demi’s about to tell is serious. When we step into the VIP box, I'm pleased to see Rachel sitting on one of the couches between Helene and Maya, half eaten brownie in hand and a soft smile on her face. She looks up as we enter the room and her soft smile turns into a huge grin.

“You guys did so great out there!” she squeals as she flings herself out of her chair into the closest set of arms. She moves through our pack giving us all individual greetings and congratulating each of us on specific plays or saves we made.

Demi gives us a moment before pulling our group over to one side. “Let’s all sit down. I have something to share with you, Rachel.”

Her smile falls slightly as she sits down and we all take seats around her. Demi sits across from Rachel and leans forward, resting his arms on his knees, clasping his hands. His face is serious but there’s a softness in his eyes when he looks at Rachel.

“I’ve been looking into your mother, searching for her second mate,” he begins. “It took a little digging and a few called in favors, but I found something.”

He pauses making sure Rachel’s ready.

She nods slowly. “Okay.”

“Your mother, Kara, met her second mate while she was pregnant with you. He worked at the clinic where she had her prenatal care, he was an ultrasound technician.” He shifts slightly, frowning. “His name was Everett Linx. He was an owl shifter, based on his employment record. No criminal history, no significant prior history really. He was quiet, well-liked, and by all accounts head over heels in love with your mom from the second they touched. Then just a few weeks after they met, about a month before you were born, he disappeared. No forwarding address, he didn’t even quit his job or clean out his apartment. He just… vanished.”

“Vanished?” Rachel asks, leaning forward. “So, what does this mean?”

Demi sighs. “It means your mother didn’t reject her second mate. At least not by choice. Neither she nor Everett ever registered the bond with the Tribunal, but that wasn’t all that uncommon back then. What is uncommon is a disappearance like this not having a single police report attached to it. Not even a missing persons report.”

“My father,” Rachel says. “He made him disappear, didn’t he?”

“I can’t say for certain, yet,” Demi replies. “But the timing lines up. Everett disappears, your mom dies in childbirth, and your father left as the only survivor with full rights and control over you. There’s no evidence, but my gut says he’s likely involved.”

I can feel Rachel’s storm of emotions in our bond. Anxiety, fear, grief, and white hot rage war inside of her. All I want to do is take her back to the dorm and lock the world away so she can decompress.

“Do you think he’ll come after me again?” she asks.

Demi’s expression darkens. “I don’t think so. Not right now. After yesterday, I had enough evidence to bring before the Eternal Council. They opened a formal investigation and that should be enough to keep him on his best behavior. But we all know he’s unstable, so stay safe and protect each other.”

Bas growls low in his throat. “If he comes near her again, he won’t make it out alive.”

“We’ll keep her safe,” Derrick agrees, a ring of smoke circling his head.

“Always,” Lucas and I say in unison.

Rachel lifts her chin, straightening her spine. “He won’t break me. Not this time. Never again.”

“That’s my girl,” Demi says, pride shining in his eyes.

With the answers we found, came even more questions. We’re still not sure for certain what happened to Rachel’s mom or her mate, but the information Dad found is more than she ever had. It’s not over, it feels like it’s only just begun. But we’re together, we’re aware, and we’re ready.

Let him come. He won’t walk away.