Page 44 of Praising the Pitcher

“Didn’t look like it,” he tosses back. “Don’t let it happen again. Your last name may be King, but that doesn’t mean you get special treatment.”

I fight a laugh because that’s the understatement of the year. I do get special treatment, but it’s not in the way anyone would want.

Special as in, I usually get to stay late to help pick up equipment. I have to always be on my best behavior. I’m pretty sure I have to work twice as hard as most just so no one thinks I’m being favored.

“Sorry, Coach. It won’t happen again,” I say, giving my dad’s shoulder a pat. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “Get your homely ass out of here.”

I take off, knowing if I’m homely, so is he. After all, I’m my dad’s clone. Unfortunately, with the fact that most of the girls on campus talk about how hot he is, I know damn well that’s not true. He’s stupidly good looking for a dude his age.

Once I’m out of the locker room, I pull my phone back out and look at it, and still, all of the messages I’ve sent are undelivered.

Did she fucking block my number? I mean, I was a little cold last night, but only because my sister made me feel like a piece of shit. My mind starts to race … maybe I was worse to her than I thought. Right now, she needs me and I let her down.

I can’t decide if I want to go see her or if I need to give her space. After all, we’re only friends, and right now, I’m questioning if we’re even that.

My back teeth grind together, and I realize for the first time since I got cheated on by my ex, I’m worked up over feeling like a woman is ignoring me. And I realize something else …

That complicates this friendship a whole fucking lot.

SEVENTEEN

GIGI

A week ago, Noah got weird, and then the next morning my phone got shut off. That same day, my pitching coach told me he couldn’t work with me anymore. Later that afternoon, my personal trainer told me the same thing.

Today, I woke up to find my car gone. I don’t need to ask who took it or why it’s gone to know it was the man who I called dad for my whole life and now has decided to cut me off.

I’m thrilled when I see Harley coming outside, her hair pulled into a sleek braid like she’s ready for practice. I’m always the first one to practice, but Harley is never far behind.

“Can I catch a ride with you?” I ask, and instantly, her face fills with sympathy. She knows my dad turned my phone off, so I’m sure she’s connecting why my car is gone suddenly.

“Sure thing,” she replies, heading to the door. “He took your car away too?”

“You know it,” I utter, thankful I took my softball bag inside last night to organize it—something I feel the need to do two to three times a week, even though I put everything back exactly how it was every time I take it out. But what can I say? I like organization. I thrive on it. “Dad of the year, I’ve got.”

Once we get into her car, she sighs before buckling her seat belt. “Sorry, Geeg. That really sucks.”

Suddenly, guilt fills my gut because Harley lost her dad to cancer last year, and it was so hard on her because they were so close. I never got to meet him in person, but from what she’s told me, he was truly a great father. Always pushing her to be her best, but never for the wrong reasons, and a constant support too.

“Sorry, Harley,” I say, my voice cowardly small. “Here I am complaining about my dad and you …” My voice trails off, not knowing how to say what I’m thinking.

As she backs out of the driveway, looking to make sure no one is coming, she shakes her head. “Hey, don’t feel bad!” she says, her words coming out quickly. “Our situations are different. And I promise you, if my dad was alive and was acting the way yours is, I’d be bitching too.” She pauses, and I can tell she’s deep in thought. Harley is truly one of the most genuine people I’ve ever known. She’s a true badass, and yet she’s soft and sweet too. She’s one of those friends I know I could tell anything to—the world’s biggest secret yet she’d never tell a soul.

“Besides, I’d never think you were downplaying my dad being gone. You lost your mom the same way, and I know the two of you were so close.”

Her words somehow warm my chest and send an ache through my heart at the same time. I’ve missed my mom more the past week, and that yearning for her seems to grow with each passing second. My dad has always been a dick but he’s still my dad, so I still had some family I was talking to. Now, I have no one.

I’m slow to respond because … what would I say? She glances at me, sure only to take her eyes off the road for a split second. “It’s not normal behavior, you know?” she whispers. “The last thing I want is for you to feel alienated from your family. But also … who the hell does he think he is?”

“Cal Jacobs,” I mutter mindlessly before I look her way. “He’s used to getting everything and anything he wants.”

“Well what does he want?” she asks, clearly confused. “What more could you do?”

“Move back in with him because he thinks living in The Nest is bad,” I say honestly. “Never go out at night. Never do anything besides train, sleep, play softball, and oh, train some more. And obey his every command.”

I sound dramatic, but I’m speaking the truth. No one understands why I haven’t had common candy everyone loves or tried a stupid slushy drink that’s been around forever. It’s not because I’ve chosen to live under a rock—it’s because I’ve grown up with the most controlling man who only sees me as an athlete and nothing more.