I’m worried about her. Despite knowing she’s alive, I can’t get the image of her crumbling in front of me out of my mind. The one that haunts me the most though is her standing on the edge of the cliff.
Then there’s my family who text me—well, my mom and sister do; Dad’s quiet. He’s always quiet.
So, I came to the batting cages at the indoor facility at MCU to work on my footwork because I needed to decompress.
“Daniel.” He stares at me listlessly. “Get some fucking rest. I get you’re trying to prepare, but the last thing I need is you overworking yourself and getting hurt. We’re only a month away from the season starting. I swear to God, I will?—”
“That’s not going to happen. I promise I’ll leave now, I…” I sigh. Dropping the ball again, I stretch my arms over my head until my shoulders pop. Still, the pestering tension resides in my back. “Couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”
Coach D levels me with a disbelieving look and just when I think he’s going to call me on my bullshit, he shakes his head. He blows out a weary breath and grumbles something.
“What was that?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He fixes his gaze on something else, and that’s when I realize he’s holding a bat.
But that’s not the only thing I notice. He’s gripping it hard, knuckles extremely white, face tinged with indignation, and eyes frayed with exhaustion.
“Is everything good?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling a harsh breath. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re young, which means don’t be fucking stupid.” Now he stands next to me and motions for meto turn on the pitching machine. “Be safe because if you don’t, you’ll find a baby on your doorstep.”
I can’t mask the incredulous look on my face fast enough, and at my expression, he rolls his eyes.
Coach D’Angelo may be forty years old, but that hasn’t stopped anyone from shooting their shot or making thirst edits of him on social media. But I guess I get it. He’s fit, like really fit, always working out and doing things to stay in shape.
“This was years ago. I only have one daughter,” I know about hisonedaughter, everyone knows who she is, she’s the youngest player to be drafted into the NWSL. “And let me tell you, she’s…” he grunts, rolling his eyes again as if he were remembering something. “Just don’t be fucking stupid. Now go home before I really make you practice.”
I don’t call his bluff because I’ve no doubt he means it. Grabbing my water, I’m rushing out a quick “good night” as I turn on the machine. As I walk out, I hear the loud smack of the ball against the bat and a string of Italian curse words.
I have no idea what that’s about, but I’d hate to be on the receiving end of his anger.
“I’m just saying tater tots are way better than hash browns,” Grayson states matter-of-factly as we enter S.S. dining hall.
Angel’s brows cinch, lip curling upward as he shakes his head in disagreement. “No, they’re not. Gray, you’re always on some stupid shit. Tater tots aren’t?—”
“I think they’re both good,” Kainoa, our Hawaiian teammate, intervenes, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug.
Gray and Angel stare at him judgmentally then fix their gazes on Noah and me, who haven’t said anything. We’ve stayed quietbecause they’ve been going at it since six this morning and it’s now three in the afternoon. We’re all over it and couldn’t care less.
I also don’t usually entertain their bullshit because me agreeing with anyone besides Angel is an act of treason according to him. He’ll be whining about it for days and Gray will be gloating because he thrives on pissing Angel off.
“They come from potatoes. They all taste the same,” Noah boredly says as we stand in line for Chopt. “Now, shut up.”
They scoff, pinning him with a look of judgment, then shift their gaze to me.
“Like Kai said…” I glance away for a second, the corner of my eyes catching a black ponytail before I draw my attention back to my roommates and teammates. “They’re both…” I trail off, doing a double take on the black ponytail and the person it belongs to.
It’s Josie. Her hair is up in a high ponytail, swishing from side to side as she walks to one of the restaurants with a girl next to her, who’s a little taller than her.
“They’re both what?” I hear someone ask me, but I’m not sure who and I can’t bring myself to find out.
Josie is wearing the same stoic expression despite the girl next to her wearing the opposite. The girl is smiling big, talking about who knows what, but even though Josie isn’t, she’s attentively listening and nodding.
“Sparky?” Angel waves his hand in front of my face, breaking the trance that I’m in.
“What?” My attention is back on them, but I must’ve been staring for too long. Gray smirks, Noah looks disinterested, Kai stares at the girls, and Angel realizes it’s Josefine.
“Why are you staring at Wednesday?” Gray questions, green eyes shining with mischief.
