Page 38

TUCKER

L eaving Josh on the bench was torture.

He looked like he might tear himself apart, his hands digging roughly into his leather mitt. He kept his dark eyes trained on the field, but there wasn’t a thought behind them besides anger, at himself and at Arlo.

I had never once in my life dreaded standing on first base, it was where I felt the most at home. Untouchable, and free. That was where my heart was, where it had always been. I walked the foul line straight and true, never once looking back—until now.

“Move your ass, Tucker.” Coach clapped his hands and broke me from my trance.

I grumbled, turning around to see Ian hovering in the dugout like he had been all game. He wouldn’t stop, each jab was another reason for me to kick his ass. I just wanted this god forsaken game to be over and done with.

Reyes did no better than Josh, the Lorettes had inched their way under all our skin and there was no getting rid of them. We needed off the field, hidden behind the wall of the Nest. Maybe it was cowardice or defeat, but I didn’t care. Every muscle in my body felt like it was one insult away from snapping like a rubber band beneath my skin and I couldn’t promise myself or the team that I could control it once it happened.

I’ve never once in my life been an angry person… Sad, depressed, frustrated, happy and hopeful for sure. But never truly angry, I didn’t have the space for it. But Ian was dragging that raw, unbridled and unchecked emotion from the depths of my system, and it wouldn’t take much for me to learn what a rage-filled adrenaline rush felt like.

Josh didn’t want that though, I knew he didn’t and it was the only thing keeping me in check. The idea of starting a war with Lorette over a few homophobic jabs from Ian—only to humiliate Josh—was the only thing keeping me focused on the game. Even if we were losing.

And we did, we lost badly. Cael and Van tried their best to do damage control, both bringing a few more runs, but by the last inning, we were still down five, and there was no hope. Coach was pissed and Arlo was slamming things around in the dugout as we walked onto the field to shake hands with Lorette. Josh thought about not going, but Coach made him, and he stepped slowly into the sand with cautious steps. I followed him in time, keeping close but giving him some space as we lined up and waited.

I knew the moment he stepped into line with us, the tension would rise and, as predicted, it built from the ground and consumed him like a dark wave. He didn’t shake a single hand, only nodded as he went through, but it was almost as if the Lorette players knew better than to touch him.

As we approached Yuri and the tail end of the list I could see their eyes on Josh. I braced for impact as we approached them, pulling my other hand out of my pocket and inhaling a dirty breath of air that smelled like clay and sweat. I searched for that cinnamon scent, but he’d moved too far ahead—and I missed whatever Yuri said that made the team laugh.

I watched it happen in slow motion as Ian slipped out from behind the pitcher, hidden from sight and laid his hand on Josh’s shoulder. I was going to kill someone .

I stepped forward, unable to focus on the words coming out of Ian’s mouth and shoved him backwards with both my hands, making sure that he wasn’t in reach of Josh.

“Should’ve known you’d let that snake into your bed.” Ian’s smile curled with pride as the teams surrounded us. What remained of the dissipating crowd rumbled with excitement over the sudden aggression.

“Keep your fucking hands off him,” I warned, and Ian just laughed in my face.

“Or what?” Ian righted himself, his arm tucked to his side as his team protected his back.

The darkest kind of anger bubbled up from me with Josh’s broken voice echoing in my mind and the smell of his cologne over my shoulder. He was still right there behind my back, quiet and so still I almost missed him, but he hadn’t slipped away in the crowd.

“You’ll have to find a sport you can play from a wheelchair.” I licked my bottom lip and stepped forward, but his team met me.

“Ooh, Tucker found his balls! For a while there I was thinking that Cody had them in a box somewhere,” Ian sneered, and looked around at the faceless idiots that laughed at his joke.

I laughed, the sound escaping me uncontrollably and catching Ian off caught. I wasn’t sure what response he had been expecting, but it wasn’t laughter. His face twisted into confusion for a brief second before falling back into a confident falsehood with an equally fake smile.

“What’s so funny?” He asked me, and I could hear the coaches starting to get restless. They couldn’t see into the center of the huddle what was happening, and it was setting them on edge. Two bench brawls for the Hornets in two weeks wasn’t exactly a good look as the new captain but I didn’t really give a shit. They had tried to attack one of our own and I’d be damned if Ian got away without repercussions a second time.

“You.” I smiled and shook my head softly as I stepped forward. There was always a sick thrill in going toe to toe with Ian. He was quite possibly one of the only players we saw regularly that matched me in size, and if we were to ever fight, it would be a real challenge. One I wanted to give a shot at that very moment.

“Me?” His stupid eyes rolled. “You really need to work on your insults, Dean; that was very first grade of you.”

“Yeah, probably.” I shrugged. "But then again why would I want to practice being an asshole?” I said, and Cael huffed a tiny laugh from my side. The funny thing about the Hornets was that their support was endless, I could have been lobbying to jump off a bridge and they’d be there, kicking off their shoes and getting ready for the plunge.

And no matter how much they hated Josh, how hard the last weeks had been trying to find a way to work together with him and acclimate to his presence in our lives. He was a Hornet, like it or not. So the moment Ian became a threat, the team surrounded Josh and me, waiting for the word but not acting on their own.

You never got just one Hornet when you kicked the Nest. You got swarmed.

“Maybe being an asshole would make you a better captain,” Ian said, and I wanted nothing more than to knock that stupid smirk off his face. “Less time butt fucking eachother and more time practicing baseball,” Ian jabbed.

“Last I heard you like a good butt fucking, Ian,” Cael was quick to insult him, and I heard the sound of satisfied amusement leave Josh from behind me.

“Fuck you, Cody.” Ian stepped forward, and I stepped in front of Cael, blocking his path with the shake of my head. Ian looked me up and down, no doubt trying to decide whether or not it was worth it, but he shook his head and stepped back. “This was getting boring anyway.”

“Yeah.” I nodded. " Boring .”

The rest of the Lorettes backed away from Ian, all of them moving with caution, but with the tension easing and the threat of a fight fading, they didn’t care much anymore. I turned around, and the Hornets hadn’t moved. Cael, Van, and Arlo had formed a tight line around Josh directly behind me. I hadn’t even heard Arlo’s arrival, but having him there had been a silent confidence boost.

It wasn’t until I tapped my fingers to my chest that the team started to funnel away from us back to the dugout. Josh’s eyes never moved from mine, a quiet thank you for taking control of the situation. I nodded toward the dugout, and he took the cue.

“Hey, Tucker,” Ian called out, and I turned to look at him over my shoulder as the rest of the team wandered out of earshot. A sick, twisted smile formed on the first baseman’s face. “His favorite date spot is the shower room.”

The rage boiled in my chest and spilled over as my vision blurred at the corners. Every muscle in my body tightened painfully, and I almost asked him to repeat himself, because there was no way he was stupid enough to bring that up.

I’d never felt anger the way I did as I spun on my heel towards him. Blinded by the fury, I felt Josh’s finger tips brush against mine in an attempt to hold me back, but it was too late. I heard him scramble after me in the clay, but I was faster, and before I could be stopped, my arms were wrapped around Ian’s middle, and we were slamming into the hard ground.

Ian tried to protect his face, but my fist found it before he could get his arms up. I didn’t pull it either, I put the full force of two-hundred-and-fifty pounds behind it. I wanted him to feel the bones in his face break; I needed him to.

Losing control was too easy. All the frustration, shame and anger that I had been storing away for weeks was overflowing. It felt good—too good. Effortless, almost addictive, to pummel Ian, he was the face of homophobia in the league, and he was just as bad as my mother and family. It all melted together, and suddenly I could hear all of them hounding me for answers, begging me to be normal . To fit in. But I did fit in, just not to their narrative!

“Fight me back!” I screamed at him and cocked my arm back for another punch but he just cowered below me and before I could throw the punch fingers wrapped around my elbow.

“Enough.” Arlo was there, the only person that could truly silence the anger with just a look and I felt it rush from me, down through my toes into the unsettled dirt like a shot of electricity. His dark eyes screamed understanding but his tight grip and tense jaw communicated authority.

An unfamiliar growl of annoyance left my throat as I climbed off Ian, still whimpering as the blood poured from his nose. I stared down at my bruised knuckles and inhaled once before turning to the Lorette’s dugout.

“Keep your dog on a leash!” I snapped, pointing at Ian. and stomped back to our dugout, passed Josh who was standing where I left him. His face was completely unreadable as Cael approached him. I ignored Cael, shaking him off as he reached out to check on me.

I marched down the steps, aware that everyone was watching me. Coach was waiting with his arms crossed. "I guess you missed the ‘ no breaking your hands on faces’ memo,” he huffed.

I ignored the need to obey him or feel ashamed of what I had done and looked over at Josh, who was talking to Cael quietly. His eyes locked on mine over Cael’s shoulder.

“Why isn’t there a restraining order in place?” I asked Coach as Silas wandered over to take in the conversation.

“Not here, Tucker.” Coach shook his head.

“Tell me,” I snapped, wincing at Coach’s expression at the demand. I was letting Ian get to me, it was making me irrational and mean. “Sorry, I just—”

“I know, let me deal with Lorette. You’ll probably get suspended for this, Tucker, but you did the right thing,” Coach said, putting his hand on my shoulder. He made sure I was looking at him, listening completely. “Take that anger and go talk to the press,” he said.

“Ryan,” Silas said, a soft warning that it might not be the best idea.

“No, this is the only time when he’s going to have the courage to do this,” Coach argued without looking away from me. “Ride that adrenaline rush, answer their questions, but don’t let them push you around. You understand me, son?”

I nodded, swallowing the bile that stung my throat.

“I’ll go with him,” Silas said, and he tapped his fingers over his heart as my eyes flickered to him.

I wanted to say something to Josh, but when I stepped toward him, he shook his head and broke eye contact with me. Fuck. I followed Silas down the tunnel, and only when we were alone did he turn to me.

“Are you okay?” He asked, holding out his hand for mine. I gave it to him and nodded. “Good, are you also out of your mind?” He scowled as he inspected the irritated knuckles. “Since when do you pick fights?”

“He baited me and I fell for it, I’m sorry,” I mumbled, and Silas narrowed his grey eyes on me.

“Josh told you,” he said quietly, and I nodded.

“He told you?” I asked, confused that he had shared something like that with Silas.

“I know enough, and it wasn’t his choice,” Silas said. "I told him that he either told me what started the fight or he didn’t get a chance with Harbor.”

“Oh,” I said, and let my hand fall back at my side.

“Are you sure you want to do this? They aren’t going to be nice,” Silas said, double-checking my mood.

“I can do it,” I said, my confidence was waning, but I couldn’t feel anything. My blood was pumping too quickly to pause for fear.

“Alright, kid.” Silas didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded. "If you need a rescue, slip pineapple into the conversation. It’ll be our emergency code word.”

“Pineapple?” I huffed a laugh—ridiculous, but kind of perfect.

He clapped me on the shoulders and spun me back toward the lion's den. I was going to be torn to shreds on local television, and I was expected to do it with a smile on my face.

I took one last deep breath and pushed through the doors.