The Dugout(26)

Holy.

Shit.

I step back and wrap my bat behind my neck where I hold on to it with both hands. She could not be more right. It’s so obvious now. The hitch in my swing is causing me to get behind on every single pitch and no one has pointed it out. How the fuck did this girl see that?

“Are you okay?” she asks, startled. “You look like you’re about to beat the crap out of someone with that bat.”

My grip grows tighter as I look up at the sky. “Just irritated.” I blow out a frustrated breath. “That’s something the coaching staff should have picked up on. Hell, it’s something I should have picked up on.”

“It’s a small movement, and it took slowing it down and pointing it out for you to actually see it. And honestly, I studied these two videos side by side for a while.” Her cheeks redden. “I hate admitting that, but it’s the truth.”

“I guess that makes me feel a little better.” Lowering my bat, I hand it to her. It’s huge in her grip and almost comical, but instead of letting it fall to the ground, she holds it up and gets into position, showing me her batting stance. And fuck if it’s not one of the hottest things I’ve seen . . . minus the stupid hat.

“Ready to learn?” She wiggles her eyebrows.

Hell yeah, I am.





“Hello?”

I flop on my bed naked and happily stare at the ceiling. “Dude, I don’t think I’ve been this happy in a really long time.”

“It disturbs me knowing that it’s your bedtime, you’re most likely naked, and you’re talking to me, telling me how happy you are. Just be honest, are you stroking yourself?”

“You fucking wish.”

Knox answers very dryly. “I really don’t.”

After spending another fifteen minutes with Milly on the field before it got too dark, I thanked her, snagged her phone number, and made plans to meet up tomorrow morning . . . early.

We didn’t do much when it came to actually hitting a ball, but we did talk. We talked about my injury, the recovery process, how I jumped back into practicing once I got the go-ahead. I didn’t focus on mechanics as much, reminding my muscle memory how to work, but instead drilled myself to death, which led to me tiring out and making mistakes in my mechanics. Mistakes I’ve repeated that have cost me.

“I think I met my fairy godmother,” I say dreamily into the phone.

“Like a bippity-boppity-boo kind of lady?”

“Even better. She wears a fisherman’s hat.”

Silence.

“Can you back up for a second? What the hell are you talking about?”

Twisting my short strands of hair with my free hand, I say, “I first ran into her in the panini line—”

“Fuck, I miss Lakeview’s paninis. I would give up my pinky toes for one right about now.”

“It’s the one positive I can think of from not being drafted. One more year of paninis. But we’re getting off track. I met her in the panini line, then the weight room, then—”

“Wait, is this a girl you’re interested in? Like locker room material?”

Ah, the locker room. Have you heard about the legend? Rumor on campus is, if a baseball player takes you to the locker room to do the dirty, you’ll be married within five years. Crazy, I know, but it’s true. It’s so true that only baseball players who are serious about their girl can take them to the sacred space.

I believe . . . Knox doesn’t, at least he likes to pretend he doesn’t.

“No, I mean, she’s pretty and all and has the sexiest lips I’ve ever seen, and man, her freckles are pretty cool, but no, she’s my fairy godmother.”

More silence.

“I think it might be too late for this conversation. Break it down really simple for me.”

“She knows how to fix my swing,” I blurt. “We started working on it tonight, and we have an early morning session tomorrow before the game to work on it.”

“A random girl you met just happened to know how to fix your swing? Carson, did she drug you? Are you seriously losing your mind? Do I need to be concerned? I knew leaving you on your own to fend for yourself wasn’t a good idea. I should have enlisted Jason to look out for you better.”

“I’m not high,” I counter. “I’ve never felt so clear in my life. Listen, she’s a baseball specialist. She knows so much shit, it’s incredible. When I was in the weight room, her friend suggested I give her a try, but being the curmudgeon I am, I brushed it off. It wasn’t until I saw her after the game today that I finally gave in, and I’m so fucking glad I did.”

“Because she figured it out?”

“Yeah, she had videos on her phone of me batting and slowed it down for me.”

“She had videos of you?” Knox lets out a long whistle. “Dude, she might be a stalker.”

“She’s not, and even if she was, who the fuck cares? For the first time since my injury, I finally feel a ray of hope.”

“She’s that good?”

I smile to myself. “Yes, she’s that good.”





Chapter Nine





MILLY





“Sorry,” I say, running up to Carson, who’s waiting at the side door that leads into the baseball stadium. “I had to borrow toothpaste from another student and getting one of them to wake up at this hour is next to impossible.”