Quit Your Pitchin' (There's No Crying in Baseball 2)

Dammit.

“Yeah, baby,” I said softly. “We can take your bike.”

I picked it up and pocketed my keys, then looked at my son. “You ready to go?”

“Yes!” he agreed readily. “Ready, Freddy.”

I smiled.

That was also something his father said to him.

“You ready, Freddy?” To which my son would reply, “Yes, ready, Freddy!” in the cutest cherub sweet voice he could muster.

“Let’s go,” I urged.

Lucy, my baby, followed at my heels, but I shook my head. “Not today, baby. I can’t hold the bike, you, and Micah. We’ll go on an extra-long walk tomorrow, though. Okay?”

Lucy seemed to understand my words, despite not actually being human, and I was thankful.

We made it down to the lobby of the apartments, and onto the sidewalk that led to the park without any problems.

It was when we were passing the local radio station, JKSD, that we ran into our first hurdle.

People. And a lot of them.

When I say a lot of them, I’m talking about a lot. Over a couple hundred…at least.

And they were all there for something to do with baseball tickets, from what I overheard.

Dammit.

Dammit.

Dammit.

I picked Micah up, settled the small bike over my other shoulder, and hurried through the crowd.

I could see why they wanted the tickets. The Lumberjacks were in the playoffs, and this would be the first year that they could possibly win everything. The town of Longview was definitely excited.

I was, too.

Or I would have been, had I not stupidly yelled at my husband for getting upset over something worthy of getting upset over, and then kicked him out.

Which reminded me I needed to try to get a hold of Diamond again.

She was avoiding my calls, and it was getting old.

I realized she wasn’t doing well. That her mood swings had taken her to a place where she didn’t like to be. But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t spend time with me when George had Micah.

That had been one of George’s stipulations, and I’d adhered to it.

Which, I think, was part of the reason my sister was no longer talking to me.

She was mad that I’d given in to George.

She was also mad that I’d broken up with him.

I just couldn’t win with her.

Goddammit.

The moment we broke free of the throng of people and I could see the park in my sights, I put the bike as well as Micah down.

Micah immediately went to his bike and started pushing himself forward.

Fast.

“Micah, slow down, buddy!” I called, moving over to the left when a few men started to pass.

They all smiled down at Micah and his Harley Davidson bike, and I smiled, too.

He was damn cute.

My smile slipped away when my phone rang.

George. Again.

Goddammit.

I wish he’d stop calling.

Shoving the phone back angrily into my bra—because where the hell were you supposed to keep your phone when you were in yoga pants? —I hurried to catch up to Micah.

Just as I’d reached his back tire, someone called my name.

That was when I realized that the first reporter from the radio station had found me.

I frowned and looked up, only to have a light flash in my eyes.

“Dammit,” I muttered, putting my hand up to block the next flash—which came almost on the heels of the first. “Excuse me.”

I was seeing stars and trying to catch up to Micah when someone else called my name.

I ignored them and hurried faster. “Micah, honey, let me hold you.”

Micah started to push himself faster. “No!”

I rushed forward, but someone grabbed me from behind.

I shook them off as panic started to slice through me.

I should’ve never left Lucy at home! This was exactly what we’d gotten her for! Protection against these assholes!

“Leave me alone!” I cried out, running now.

And that’s when it happened.

Beside the crosswalk we were on was a large, deep ditch. And beyond the ditch was a stop sign.

The cross street didn’t have a stop sign, but obviously they needed to.

At least for the guy that stupidly turned too sharp and ran straight into the ditch instead of the road that he was trying to stay on.

And I saw as if in slow motion, the car fall into the ditch and roll.

Right into the path of my son.

The car swung, knocked his tiny little body off of the bike, and catapulted him into the ditch—which was semi-filled with water.

“Micah!” I shrieked in terror.

I found myself in the water up to my ankles before I could even tell myself to move.

Then I hesitated moving even an inch of my little baby’s body.

He was bleeding.

Everywhere.

His nose. His mouth. His ears.

Oh, God.

“Baby,” I cried, tears dripping down my cheeks.

“Don’t touch him!”

I looked up to find a paramedic rushing to me.

I had a fleeting thought of ‘how did they get here so fast’ when it was answered moments later by someone in the background.

“How did they get here so fast?” someone asked.