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TWENTY-ONE

TANNER

“Sloppy misses. There were a lot of sloppy misses?—”

“I wish he’d stop saying sloppy ?—”

“ Shhh .”

“What did I say to you?”

“Too much to remember?—”

“ Shhh .”

“You came into this series too cocky. You were cocky, and you got knocked out. Nothing”—Coach slashed his hand through the air—“I repeat, nothing happened that should have happened. When you needed to stay on base, you ran. You needed to run, you stayed on base. There wasn’t enough reading the plays.

Sloppy and amateur . All of it. I’m tempted to bring up the Jungle Kings and have them play in your place?—”

The hissing in my ear started up again. “I haven’t seen Coach this pissed since Scout and I got together?—”

“Parker, shut up . I’m not getting caught talking, he’s already mad at me. ”

But Coach was on a roll, too mad to notice anything through his red mist of anger.

“The Jungle Kings will play a hell of a lot better than you did tonight. You’re looking too far ahead instead of staying in the game.

That’s how we’ll end up losing because you’re not paying attention.

You don’t get paid to think about the next game, you’re paid to play the one you’re in.

” Coach punched each word out with a jab of his finger.

“Because you never know when it’ll be your last.”

Thankfully we’d sat right at the back of the auditorium today. If you hadn’t guessed, the first game of the championship series against the Giants did not go well.

I couldn’t tell you exactly where we went wrong, but it was an unmitigated disaster from start to finish. I don’t think anyone had come out unscathed.

Sawyer James spent every bottom inning icing his ankle after he rolled it racing after a ball he’d miscaught. He wasn’t the only one, it was like the balls today had been greased up because we nearly all fumbled them.

Jupiter’s bat snapped in half after a particularly hard hit, which bounced back and smacked the umpire, causing the game to halt while a medic patched up the heavily bleeding cut on his arm. It was distracting enough that Jupiter only made it to first base.

Lux hit a bunt, which went wrong, and the Giants third base caught it in the air, something which admittedly wasn’t our fault, but Coach didn’t see it that way.

And then there was me.

“Wives, girlfriends, family—anyone of any importance to you watching the game—are being moved to the bleachers. I don’t want to see another wink, a wave, a smile.

No blowing goddamn kisses. Nothing ! You run around the bases and you go straight into the dugout.

If you can’t stay focused, then I’m removing all distractions.

If I see it again, consider yourself benched. ”

A low grumble of objection ran through the auditorium, a couple of the guys turned around to see where I was sitting. I slunk a little further in my seat behind Saint Velasquez, who usually doubled as a wall.

It wasn’t my fault.

Last night Millie had sat two rows behind the dugout. What was I supposed to do, ignore her? I didn’t know the cameraman was following me. I blew her a kiss, big deal.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t realized I’d slowed down quite as much as I had before reaching home plate, but I truthfully thought Boomer’s ball had gone far enough into the field to get me back safely. It hadn’t, and I got caught out.

Luckily Coach had already been raging about a bad call from the umpire while Parker was at bat, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before I was on the receiving end of his wrath.

We’d ended the game Giants 10 to our 3, and slunk home with our tails between our legs. Unfortunately, Coach hadn’t found it amusing when someone (Ace) pointed out that the score wasn’t as bad as Ace’s opener when he’d tanked in front of the President.

“Tonight we’re getting straight on the plane, so you need to have said your goodbyes before the game starts.

And I’m telling you now, I do not want to head to San Francisco two games down in a best-of-seven series.

We are not having the Giants win on home ground.

” His lip curled in a snarl. “You need to think long and hard. If you can’t be bothered to pull your finger out and stop fucking about, then you can stay in New York.

And believe me when I say, I won’t hesitate twice about leaving you. Understood?”

There was silence for a second as everyone held their breaths, unsure if Coach was asking a rhetorical question.

“UNDERSTOOD?”

Guess it wasn’t rhetorical.

A loud wave of affirmative answers rolled over the room. Coach’s narrowed, beady eyes scanned over us one last time before he turned on his heel and stormed out. The door clattered back on its hinges.

Usually when these meetings ended the front rows were up and out, following in Coach’s wake. But not today. Everyone was silent, everyone was kind of pissed, and everyone was exhausted, to put it bluntly.

We’d worked our asses off all season, and we wanted this win as badly as Coach did, and for him to think we didn’t definitely stung.

Jupiter was the first to stand. Only 50 percent of the guys watched him make his way to the front, the rest were either heads down or on their phones, likely saying goodbyes to their loved ones.

“Okay, boys, listen up,” he began. “Ignore what Coach said. It’s his job to be pissed, but I say we needed yesterday.

We needed to get it out of our system, fuck up a little and understand what it feels like for everything to go wrong all at the same time.

But it won’t happen again. I know it won’t, because we’re not going to let it.

We all have the same goal over the next couple of weeks, and that’s to lift the trophy.

It’s been our goal since Opening Day, and we are going to see this season through until the bitter end.

We’ve played better this year than we ever have, we’ve stayed strong all season, and we’re not going to crash and burn at the final hurdle.

So, take five minutes, regroup, and then get your asses into the locker room. ”

Jupiter’s talk ended as abruptly as it started, and he followed in the direction Coach had gone, though the door didn’t clatter quite as loudly.

The volume of chatter kicked up immediately, a couple of the guys jogged to the doors, and everyone else stood up to file out, just like we always did. Our heads were on the way to getting back in the game.

“Huh. Who’d think Jupiter would deliver a pep talk that worked?” mumbled Parker.

“ H ow’re you feeling?” asked Millie, though I should probably be asking her the same question.

As always, she looked perfect. Her fresh face beamed out at me as she scraped her hair back, fastened it with a bright pink tie she pulled off her wrist, and snuggled back down into her bed.

I swear that she had more hair this week than last, it seemed to be growing at the same rate as her belly, and I had zero complaints, especially when I could wrap my fingers around it.

“Good, I’m tired but I slept okay,” I replied, stretching through a yawn as I propped up the pillows behind my head and reached for the coffee that room service had woken me up with.

“Better without a huge pregnant woman next to you. ”

I sipped my coffee, instantaneously feeling the first hit of caffeine. Like someone had taken a defibrillator to me.

“No way. I sleep amazing next to you.”

“What time did you get to California?”

“I think it was two a.m. local, but we slept on the plane. Whatever time it was, you were fast asleep,” I replied, taking another huge glug, and regretting it when my heart fluttered.

I don’t know what they’d put in this coffee, even though I needed it.

I usually crashed the second I got to the hotel, but last night I’d been fully wired, buzzing off our evening’s win.

The second game against the Giants had gone in our favor, and while the score wasn’t quite as dramatic as it had been the day before, it wasn’t a good game for them.

It was possible they’d gotten too confident, expecting us to crash out, but I suspected it was just a similar case to ours.

They had to get through some wobbles before coming out stronger.

The next three days would be make or break.

We were now at Oracle Park, the Giants’ home, surrounded by all their orange-wearing fans.

It was one game apiece and Coach was clamoring for an early win to give us a little advantage.

He was also taking full credit for his “pep talk” yesterday at sealing our win, though it was Jupiter’s that had rallied us to beat them last night.

But I think it was less the high of the win that had stopped me crashing immediately and more that I’d also been missing Millie when I’d gotten into bed.

Per Coach’s demands, we’d all been hurried out of the stadium and onto the buses, so I hadn’t seen her. And I hadn’t realized how much I’d started to rely on our late-night conversations since she’d moved into the apartment, even if most of them were conducted half asleep.

More recently the sound of her quietly snoozing next to me had soothed me, its white noise-esque vibe calming my constant postgame buzz.

I’d been so tempted to call her.

“You think the Giants slept?”

“They probably spent the flight regrouping like we did yesterday. I bet their coach isn’t yelling at them about being sloppy though,” I replied with a shrug.

Parker still hadn’t gotten over that word.

“I bet he is.” She laughed. “You played amazing. The atmosphere was incredible, everyone was talking about it when Radley and I went home. We could feel it as we left the stadium. The cheers were so loud.”

“It’s because you were wearing your Simpson shirt,” I replied, sipping my coffee.

She shook her head. “I wore it the night before, too, and that didn’t go so well.”

“I know, but I’ve decided the magic needed to recharge.”

“The magic?”

“Yeah, the magic you make when you wear my shirt.”

“That’s a thing? Magic shirts.”

“It’s a thing.”