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

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with a weakness for baseball pants in this family.

While Rhys was busy taking a few practice swings, my eyes had strayed to him and his ass. Each time he swung, his pants pulled tighter on that scrumptious butt of his, showing it off.

Today they were wearing white pants, green socks, and a green baseball jersey.

Where some of the players wore their pants down to their ankles, Rhys raised his to rest just above his calf.

“Hutt.”

Ball.

I looked back in time to see the catcher toss the ball back to the pitcher.

I squeaked as Rhys took another swing, and then brought my finger up to my lip to chew uselessly on my nail.

I bit my nails when I was nervous.

They’d likely be bloody stubs by the time I was finished.

Crack!

I gasped when Rhys hit the ball—and hit it he did.

It went so far out into the outfield that it bounced off the back wall between the center fielder and the right fielder.

That’s when I saw why they called Rhys the “Jet.”

A man like Rhys you wouldn’t expect to run fast. He was big. Tall and stocky, but not fat stocky. Muscular stocky. He had meat on his bones, but that didn’t make him look like a ‘roid user like it did with some people.

But still, a man as big as him? You wouldn’t expect him to move fast…but he did.

God, did he move fast.

He was on third base before the ball was thrown in from the field, and I was staring open-mouthed at the man in shock.

Holy crap!

My excitement must’ve shown on my face, because when his eyes met mine, he started to laugh.

I pointed at him, and then mouthed, You’re in trouble.

He wiggled his hands and said, “Ohhhhh.”

I snorted, then drew my finger across my neck.

He grinned, then turned to pay attention to the game once more.

I just shook my head and regained my seat.

My mom started to chuckle as I got comfortable once again.

“I take it that you didn’t know he was going to play?”

I shook my head. “Negative.”

She started to laugh. “Let me just tell you something now. They don’t ever do what you think they’re going to, nor do they follow directions really well when they’re injured or sick.”

That, I at least knew. Well, in fact.

Rhys’ recovery had been an uphill battle for sure. I knew without a doubt that he hated being in a weakened state, and he shared his unhappiness with others.

I watched him carefully as he played for the next two innings, looking for any signs of a headache or weakness. There was none.

I wasn’t a fool. I knew he was hurting.

One didn’t suffer a traumatic brain injury like the one he’d suffer and not have anything to show for it, despite all the healing he’d done.

But, he hid it well.

It likely was due to the fact that I was watching him so closely that I saw him wince at his next at bat when his bat connected with the ball. The loud ‘clack’ of the two forces meeting.

Though he hit it solidly, he was a little slower to run around the bases this time and was held up at second base despite hitting it in nearly the identical spot as the time before it.

Luckily, his run drove in one more, and the inning finished with him left on second base.

All the while the stadium around me celebrated the win, I kept watch over Rhys.

And I knew that he wasn’t feeling all that well, despite putting on the blank face that let almost zero emotion through.

I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew I had to do something.

What I hadn’t planned on doing was standing up and nearly breaking my face on the wall in front of me—stupid high heels.

I never wore high heels. What made me think that it was okay to wear them today?

I caught myself on the concrete barrier, but the force was great enough that I skinned my arm and wrist.

It wouldn’t be complete if blood didn’t start pouring everywhere.

I gasped and raised my arm, looking at it in horror. I was deathly afraid of blood. So much so that even my own blood freaked me way the fuck out.

My mother and Alana both hissed out a breath and rushed forward.

Unfortunately, the only thing I had to staunch the flow was a single napkin from my mother’s beer she’d gotten earlier.

She placed it on my wrist, but it was saturated in a matter of moments.

Before I could do much more than contemplate what exactly I was going to do, Rhys was just suddenly there, standing in front of me and pulling my arm to rest between his two large hands.

I gasped, looked up, and saw his sweaty face inches from mine.

“Are you okay?”