Spotlight: Chapter 15

“Wake up, Hotshot.” Olivia’s voice cuts through my hazy dreams. My lids flutter open and she’s standing over me looking as sexy as ever. She holds out a mug of coffee to me.

“Thanks.” I sit up and take it from her as I get my bearings. “What time is it?”

“Five. You fell asleep while I was checking on Greer. I wasn’t sure what time you needed to be up for baseball.”

“How is she?” I take a sip of coffee and grimace.

“Good. Her fever finally broke.”

“That’s great.” I roll my neck side to side. “Do you have any cream or sugar? This is the strongest fucking coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

She laughs, plopping onto the couch next to me. “There’s sugar in the cabinet next to the microwave.”

I get up, stretching and groaning. I dump two big spoonfuls of sugar into the drink before I attempt another sip. On the way back to the living room, I snag a slice of cold pizza.

Olivia looks tired. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail, but a few strands hang loose around her face and the nape of her neck. Sexy as hell, but tired.

“Did you sleep at all?” I ask her, taking a seat next to her.

“A bit.”

That feels like a no.

“I can come back after practice today.”

She lets her head fall to the side to look at me. “I’ll be fine. Besides, my grandfather will disown me if his star pitcher isn’t ready for this weekend’s game.”

“He’s really a diehard, huh?”

Some sort of emotion flickers across her face, but it’s gone too quickly for me to make it out. “He loves baseball and the Mustangs more than just about anything.”

“Well, he’s safe. I’m not pitching again until Saturday.”

“Right.”

“Will you come?”

“To the game?” she asks.

“Yeah. I like seeing you in the stands while I’m pitching. You have this anxious, hopeful expression on your face.”

“You cannot see my expression from that far away.”

“I can,” I insist.

“You are so full of it.” Her eyes narrow in disbelief, but her lips curve into a smile.

I should go. She needs sleep and I need to run by my apartment before practice. But I don’t want this night to end. The only thing that gets me up is the hope that this won’t be the last time.

“All right. I better go. Tell Greer I said to feel better, and if you need more medicine or food, I know all the best spots.”

She laughs.

“Text you later?” I ask, still not wanting to leave. My gaze drops to her mouth. All night I’ve thought about kissing her, but it hasn’t felt like the right moment with everything else going on.

Her stare is locked on me, and I think maybe she’s thinking the same thing. “Sounds good.”

I force myself to my feet, then take one more sip of coffee before I hold it out to her. “Here, I think you need it more than me.”

She takes a drink and then coughs. “That is straight sugar.”

“Sweet, just like me.” I wink at her.

She shakes her head at me as I head toward the door. Damn, I really, don’t want to leave.

“Take care of yourself.”

She nods. “Later, Hotshot.”

Practice is killer. I’m dragging from lack of sleep, and my mind wanders to Olivia and Greer every second the ball isn’t in my hands.

“Better. Sink in a little more on that back hip as you drive forward. You’re opening up a little fast,” Coach Wayne says.

I nod, taking in his words as I kick at the dirt with the toe of my shoe. Despite my no-hitter a couple of weeks ago, I’ve struggled ever since. I’m back to throwing like shit. Every fifth pitch or so is right on the mark, but I can’t find it with any consistency. It’s the most frustrating thing to know I’m capable of so much more but can’t do it every time I step onto the mound.

When we finish up, I head to the locker room with JT. The atmosphere all around me is optimistic and happy. I feel like the only black cloud.

JT smiles as I drop to the bench with a groan, sweat pouring off me.

“Chin up, Holland. You’ll get it.”

“Will I?” I ask, not really expecting an answer.

He chuckles. “I remember feeling the same way you do right now.”

That gets my attention. “You do?”

“My first year, I stepped onto the field every day with the weight of my future bearing down on me.”

“This is different. I already blew it once. I don’t know how many more chances I’m going to get.”

“You just threw a no-hitter.” He shakes my shoulder and laughs. “No one is looking at you right now thinking you’re blowing anything.”

I crack a smile, but it doesn’t last long.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. One day at a time.”

“Patience is not my strong suit. I was pitching in the biggest games of baseball last season and now I’m…” I trail off.

“Playing for the worst team in the league?” he asks, one brow cocked.

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s fine. Nothing everyone else isn’t saying about us.” He’s quiet as he stands and grabs his phone and wallet from his locker. I didn’t mean to insinuate that I think the team sucks, but I do wonder how he’s able to show up every day and not dwell on that fact.

“We’ve had a rough few years with injuries and trades, but this is a great group of guys. We have the talent and the heart to do big things. Our time is coming. I believe that.”

“Is that why you’ve stayed all these years?” I ask, keeping my voice low. There’s no way he hasn’t had opportunities to play for other teams over the years. I’ll never understand why he’s stayed as long as he has.

“This place is home. Winning somewhere else wouldn’t feel as sweet.”

“At least you’d be winning though.”

His upper body shakes with a silent chuckle. “Winning isn’t the only thing worth playing for.”

“We’re going to have to agree to disagree on that point.”

He flashes me a smile. “See you tomorrow, Holland. Don’t forget tomorrow is your day to bring food.”

Looks like I’ll be making a trip to the grocery store.

When JT is gone, I pull out my phone and send Olivia a text to see how Greer is doing. While I wait for her reply, I take a quick shower and get dressed. I don’t feel like going home so I go to the media room to watch film of Milwaukee’s last game. I’m starting Saturday and I need to see what I’m up against.

The video equipment is clunky, and it takes a bit of effort to get it to work. I’m cussing out the screen, which keeps flickering on me, when Earl finds me.

Smiling, he walks in and takes over, jiggling some wires and blows the dust off the projector.

“That should do it,” he says as the screen comes into focus.

“Thanks.”

With a nod, he steps back. “Preparing for Saturday?”

“Yeah. I haven’t faced them before. Any words of wisdom?”

“They have some talent over there for sure.” He glances to the video as the first Milwaukee batter walks out to the plate. “That’s Foukes. He likes a fastball, but he has a hard time being patient. Mix it up. Keep him guessing.”

Intrigued, I watch as Foukes swings at the first pitch, a two-seamer that moves a little too far inside.

“Did you already watch this game?” I ask him.

“Nah.” He crosses his arms over his chest as we watch the next two pitches. A beautiful fastball that he lets go by him, then a changeup that he can’t resist but swings too early.

“Damn. You were right,” I say to Earl as Foukes strikes out.

“What else are you holding back on me?” I ask playfully, but as the question lingers, I really want to know.

“Seriously,” I say. “You have any tips for me?”

“You’ve got coaches for that. I’ve already said too much.”

“I know what they think, but what about you? Don’t tell me you haven’t been paying attention because I don’t buy it.” He sees everything around here.

I pause the video and wait for him to answer.

“Your front foot.”

“What about it?”

“You step a little too far inside as you release the ball.”

I nod, thinking. “Wayne thinks I’m not sinking in enough on my back hip.”

“You should listen to him. He’s a good coach.”

“Something tells me you are too.”

Before I can ask him more questions, and I absolutely want to, Earl heads for the door. “You’re a smart pitcher with a great arm. Trust your instincts out there Saturday and I like our chances against any batter.”

“Thanks, Earl.”

By the time I get to my apartment later that evening, I still haven’t heard from Olivia. Archer texted to invite me over, but I’m not sure if I’m feeling up to it.

I pull a beer from the fridge and look around the empty space. The cactus that Olivia gave me sits on the kitchen counter.

I check my phone again in case I missed her text, but still nothing. Hopefully she got some rest today and Greer is feeling better.

Taking my drink and the cactus with me to the living room, I set the plant on the coffee table in front of me and then down another long swig of the beer. I haven’t spent a lot of time in my apartment so there still isn’t a lot of furniture or décor. I wonder if Olivia knew how much my place needed some life in it when she gave me this cactus. Maybe she really was just trying to call me a prick.

My phone vibrates and I swipe to unlock it so fast.

Instead of texting her, I record an audio message. “Hey. I’m glad to hear from you. I’m home now. I survived the day, although I did spend a lot of it wondering how you were. Need anything? I can bring food or medicine or anything you need.”

I drink my beer and tap my thumb against the side of the phone while I wait for a reply. My lips pull into a smile when a new audio message comes through.

I click play and her teasing, sweet voice hits me in the gut. “I am good on food and medicine but thank you. We’re taking it easy tonight. Greer’s fever came back for a bit today, so she is staying home from school again tomorrow and is currently working her way through all her favorite movies while I’m organizing the pantry. Sexy, right?” She laughs. “Greer says thank you for the stuffed animal by the way. She hasn’t put it down since I gave it to her.”

I quickly reply, “Everything you do is sexy. Want some help?”

Another laugh starts her message. “You want to come over and organize my pantry?”

“I want to see you again. The activity doesn’t matter.”

“I’d like to see you too, but if you come over, Greer’s going to get excited, and she really needs to rest.”

Her being such a thoughtful mom is so fucking hot. But damn, I really want to see her.