I lunge forward to punch him, but he darts into the locker room and out of reach.
“Fucking southern gentleman my ass,” I shout out as I follow him in, but he knows I’m teasing. He also knows I’d kick his ass if he ever disrespected my sister. Best friend or not.
All our teasing and joking gets set aside as soon as Coach walks into the locker room. It doesn’t matter who’s dating who or who’s sleeping with who. Right now, we’re a team. A well-oiled, finely-honed machine, ready to dominate on the field.
Instead, we get our asses handed to us for four straight innings.
“For fuck’s sake!” Mav grunts from where he leans against the dugout railing. I can see his fists, tight at his sides, from where I sit on the bench. “No chance that was a strike.”
Some of the other guys grumble in agreement, but that’s as far as it goes. And after one warning glare from the batting coach, Mav also shuts up. But the anger and frustration is still palpable in the dugout. No one likes a shit call.
Monty slides onto the bench next to me, his knee nudging mine. “You ready?”
I give him a curt nod. “Those fuckers are going down.” I hold up my glove, and he bumps it with his own.
When the third and final out of the inning is called, we’re up and off the bench lightning fast, jogging out onto the field. My first few warm-up pitches are good, but I’m not pushing the speed. I’ll save that for the game. There’s still several innings to go, but goddamn it, I don’t like coming from behind like we are.
I do one final deep inhale and exhale before lifting my hand and rubbing the inside of my cap. My lips quirk up when I run my fingers over where I know Isabelle’s initials are written.
Time to make some magic.
And ten minutes later, I’m pumping my fist as we jog off the field. One player made contact but was tagged out when he tried to stretch a double.
“Nice work, Yami. Watch that drop on your curve. Your wrist angle was off on that last one.” Coach Stirling gives me a sharp nod.
“Got it.” I shake my arm to loosen it up and sit down. A trainer notices and comes over.
“Need anything?”
I shake my head, my focus on our guy who’s at bat. “Nah. All good.”
Thank fuck, my teammate makes contact and lands a double. This game is ours for the taking.
YAMI: You better not be naked cuz I’m OMW up.
DARLING: Fine I’ll put on pants.
I’ve learned the hard way not to use my key for Darling’s place when my sister is there. When she’s away at their place several hours away on Vancouver Island where she works, I let myself in. But when she’s in town…yeah. No. I’ll knock.
After hearing Ruthie, their massive Great Dane-mixed-with-who-the-fuck-knows-what-else, woofing loudly, I hear Evie shush her just before the door opens and I’m attacked by the vicious beast.
Fine, maybe attack is a strong word.
“Damn, Ruthie girl, where’s your manners?” I laugh as she jumps all over me, licking anywhere she can reach. “Wanna help, Gigi?” I look over at my sister, who’s watching, amused, as I try to manhandle her dog inside the apartment.
“Nope.”
“Mean.”
“Deal with it.” She pivots on her heel and struts into the apartment. I manage to get Ruthie and myself in, shutting the door behind me just as Rhett comes out from where their bedroom is. Wearing pants, as promised.
“Ruthie, space.” His sharp command has the dog backing away and sitting down with a quiet whine.
“Aw, come on, Dad, she was just being friendly.” I ignore his grunt of disapproval and drop down on my haunches to continue loving on my dog-niece.
“More like you were encouraging bad behaviour,” he says wryly.
I stand up after another minute and move to the stools at the kitchen counter. “So what’s for dinner?”
