Quentin
“Looking good, Q,” my catcher says to me as he throws the ball back to me.
We’ve been warming up in the bullpen before today’s game, just enough to get my arm loose and ready. Thankfully, my shoulder’s not aching too bad currently.
Post-game might be a different story as it has been all season with my shoulder.
I wipe the sweat off my brow—an oddly warm October day—and then focus on the batter’s box. So far, I’ve been dialing my speed back, taking it easy. But before we stop to rest before the game starts, I want to give it my all. Winding up, I throw a curve ball, the ball making a loud snapping sound when it hits his glove.
“Whew, giving me some heat,” my catcher whistles.
We take a break and make our way to the dugout to relax before the beginning of Game One of the World Series.
Our team crushed our playoff run, making it to the World Series this year. I couldn’t be prouder of these guys, despite the lingering ache in my chest today.
Because this series will be my last games in the MLB.
A bittersweet feeling washes over me because while I’m looking forward to resting my body and being a dad, I know I’m going to miss the thrill of the game. The camaraderie with these men who are like my family.
Whether we win or lose, I already feel like I’ve won in life because my real trophies are at home.
Well, not today. Teagan’s here watching, but the point remains the same.
She’s sitting in the family and friends box with Camille and Olivia, a request from me because the fans are going to be rowdy tonight. It’s Game One on home turf, and I can’t focus on the game if I’m worried about her out there.
Already, there’s a buzz in the air that’s different from any other game. It’s potent, like you could almost touch it and get zapped from the electricity of it. It’s a sold-out crowd, and it’s going to be the same every night we’re here or in Florida on their turf.
“You ready for tonight?” Ian asks as he slides down on the bench next to me.
“More than ready. I feel good.”
“You’re going to pitch a hell of a game and start us off with the energy we need,” he tells me.
I tilt my head at him with a quizzical look on my face. “New Ian is sickeningly nice.”
“I can go back to being an asshole if you’d like. I find that much more fun, to be honest.”
“No, I’m good. I’d rather not want to punch you in the face all the time.”
He laughs at that. “You nervous about Landon? That guy is a killer in the batter’s box.”
Landon Twain is one of the best hitters in the league, but I’ve never been afraid of any player, no matter how good they are. I have confidence in myself and my team.
“No, I know that he’s got a weak spot for inside pitches, so I’m going to run with that.”
“Better you than me.” He blows out a breath, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him doubt himself.
I go to respond, when Ryker appears, looking concerned.
My stomach drops instantly, anxiety and fear crawling up to my throat. “What happened? Is Olivia okay? Cami?”
“They’re great.” Ryker swallows, seeming uncomfortable almost. “It’s, uhh…it’s Teagan.”
Every hair on my body stands as I freeze, unable to do anything for a moment but mentally panic.
Is she okay? Is the baby okay? What the hell happened?
“What happened?” The words come out breathless, and Ryker puts a hand on my shoulder, gripping it.
