Listen, Pitch (There's No Crying in Baseball 3)

A lot.

So much that I’d been thinking about her all night, and our future kids.

“I’m fine,” I told him. “Head hurts a little bit every once in a while, but ultimately, I feel like the same Rhys…just older.”

The head thing was luckily the truth.

Over the weeks that had followed my deposit into the sperm bank, my head had started to get back on track with my norm, and the headaches were coming fewer and further between.

Rhodes laughed. “Aren’t we all getting there, man.”

I picked up the previous hitter’s bat, and walked off the field to the dugout, ignoring the warning glare I received from the coach on my way past him.

“Need to get your head in the game,” he muttered as I passed.

No fuckin’ shit.

“So…my bet is it was either the call from your wife, or the call from your wife’s brother.”

I grimaced.

My wife’s brother, Tyler Cree, had also called me today.

But that one I hadn’t answered.

I’d been on the way out to the field, and there hadn’t been time.

Apparently, from what I could tell from the voicemail I’d heard, Henley had been dodging Tyler’s calls, and their mother had given my phone number to him.

Peachy.

The sharp crack of a ball and a bat connecting had me glancing back up to the game, and I sighed when the pitcher caught the ball before it could even make it to the infield.

“Shit,” I muttered, reaching for my glove.

I was halfway out of the dugout when I was stopped by Coach.

“Listen to me,” he said. “If you don’t get your head out of your ass, I’m pulling you out. I can’t afford for you to be hurt. Not with playoffs right around the corner.”

I grinned.

“I’ll be fine. My head’s in the game,” I lied.

He grunted and let me go, and I ran to the exact spot where I liked to stand.

The next three innings went about as expected. Three up, three down.

Our pitcher, Gentry, was pitching a no-hitter, and with it being the sixth inning, whispers were starting to make their way around the stadium.

Would Coach pull him? Would he play the entire game? Who would they put in for him?

It was my turn up at bat again when I saw some man sit in Henley’s seat.

I narrowed my eyes and realized that that ‘man’ was actually her brother.

I hadn’t met him in person yet, but I could tell it was him from the pictures that were stashed around our house now.

I struck out looking.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

***

I rushed out of the side door that led out into the parking lot, in a hurry to get home to Henley.

I was turning into a real bitch, that was for sure.

Before Henley, I hadn’t ever rushed home. I would party, invite some of the boys over, or even go out to a bar and drink a beer by myself.

What I did not do was rush home and talk to the woman I was currently fucking—even though there hadn’t been too many of those.

What I hadn’t planned on was to run into Henley’s brother, Tyler, as I rushed out to my truck.

I came to a sudden halt when I saw him standing beside it, hands in his pockets, staring at me.

“Tyler.” I offered him my hand.

He took it, shook it two times, and then released it.

His eyes stayed on me, though.

“Is everything okay?” I asked neutrally.

His eyes narrowed.

“I’m not buying it.”

I winced at Tyler’s words, knowing what he was thinking regardless of whether he’d put any explanation into his words.

“Not buying what?” I questioned.

“I’m not buying this marriage,” he said. “What’s going on?”

I got angry.

He didn’t know a goddamn thing that was going on, mainly because he wasn’t ever fuckin’ around.

Though Henley and her sister had spoken of him often, not once had I seen him at any family dinners over the past few months that I’d been in the picture.

And I knew damn well and good that Henley hadn’t kept our marriage a secret. She’d invited him.

But, from what I’d heard, Tyler was a busy man. He’d taken over as chief of police for a corrupt police department about forty-five minutes south of town. However, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have made a goddamn appearance in town once or twice.

“You’re not buying the marriage,” I said slowly. “Who are you again?”

Tyler narrowed his eyes. “People like you don’t choose people like my sister. They…”

I held up my hand. “Your sister is perfect. And what exactly do you mean ‘people like my sister?’”

Tyler’s eyebrows rose. “People like my sister—meaning deaf. You’re richer than God…what are you doing with her?”

I frowned. “I’m married to her, Tyler. I love your sister. And, for your information, my sister is deaf, too.”

Tyler snorted. “Love? Y’all have known each other for a very short time.”

Who was this guy? He didn’t know me.