Page 12 of Saving The Shortstop

“You have your parents. You have me,” he barks. “Fuck, kid, you know Anna would help in a heartbeat too.” He pauses, and when my eyes dare to find his, I feel even more like a coward. “And Haven? You know, your childhood friend and my daughter who’s abnormally good in school!” He leans back in his chair, pulling the brim of his hat downward before shoving it back up chaotically. “Why in the fuck wouldn’t you at least ask her?”

I think I grimace without being able to stop myself even at the thought alone of having to go to Haven and tell her that I’m really fucking dumb. Even picturing the sympathetic expression she’d flash my way is enough to make me want to burrow under a rock.

“I know,” I whisper. “I just … didn’t want to ask her for help.”

For as long as I’ve been with my parents, Haven and her family have known that I’m trash. I came from it, which makes me the same. Sure, my new mom and dad may have polished me up and ridded me of the dirty nails, long, greasy hair, and clothes two sizes too small. That is true. But at the end of the day, I’m only polished because they saved me. Underneath it all, I’m just a dirty, poor, broken kid.

I can’t bear the thought of her also knowing that I don’t have a working brain.

His teeth tap together over and over again, and his eyes narrow to slits as he stares me down. I know I’m not going to like what he has to say. I’ve been around Coach enough years to understand how he works. He’s one of the funniest dudes I know, but when he’s pissed … yeah, look the hell out.

“Well guess what?” he grumbles. “It’s too late for that now.” He grabs his phone from his desk. “She may not be tutoring anymore, but she’ll do it—because it’s you. And if anyone is going to help you out of this hole you’ve dug yourself into, it’s her.”

He looks down at his phone for a moment before dropping back to his desk.

“You know what?” he says sharply. “You’re going to be the one to call and ask her. Because this is your mess. You better just consider yourself lucky that I’ve gone to bat for you and that the athletic director has agreed to give you a few weeks to get your shit together and raise your grades.” He shrugs somberly. “After that? You’re off the team.” He jerks his chin up. “Now, take out your phone and call your friend Haven. And you ask her fucking nicely to help you. You hear?”

Inside, I’m dying. The fear of her thinking even less of me has me frozen—unable to take my phone out and do a damn thing. But I know the team needs me. Last year, they lost their starting quarterback and are counting on me to fill his shoes.

I can’t let them down.

My hands are sweating, my mind racing. But finally, with his eyes unmoving from me, I take my phone out. And I call Haven.

It rings twice, but then it goes to voicemail. I swallow harshly, knowing that she silenced me.

“She didn’t answer, Coach,” I murmur, holding my phone out.

“Try again,” he demands. “This time, put it on speakerphone. I want to make sure you aren’t fucking with me.”

Sighing, I hit her contact again, calling her before I hit the speaker button. Once again, it rings a few times before the call is forwarded to voicemail. I’m sure as hell not asking her for help in a voice message; she’d use it to haunt me for the rest of my life. So instead, I end the call.

She hasn’t talked to me since I gave her a ride home, and she wasn’t exactly thrilled with me that night, even though I don’t know what she expected me to do—sit back and watch her get more involved with that weirdo? Fuck that. I hope like hell she broke it off with him, but knowing her, she probably did the opposite just to spite me.

“All right, well, obviously she’s busy or just doesn’t want to talk to you,” he says, looking at the clock. “I have to go to a meeting.”

I stand up quickly, taking that as a cue to get the fuck out of here. But before I have a chance to bolt, his deep, intimidating voice stops me.

“You better have tutoring arrangements set up with her when you get to practice tomorrow afternoon, Rivers.” His words are followed by a threat. “If not, consider yourself off the team until further notice.”

Looking down, unable to face the disappointment in his eyes, I nod subtly. “Yes, Coach. I will.”

Turning, I walk out of his office. My phone feels like a heavy brick in my hand because I know that I need to call her again, even though she clearly doesn’t want to talk to me.

I’ve always felt so insignificant in her presence. Now … I might as well just be fucking invisible.

SIX

HAVEN

Even though I live in a house that’s filled with female athletes from sports outside of softball, tonight, I’m not sure where all the others are who aren’t softballers. Gigi, Harley, and I sit on the couch, all way too invested in Love Island for our own good. It’s a little unbelievable that people could fall this fast, but it sure makes for good entertainment.

I take a big scoop of Halo Top ice cream and push the huge spoon into my mouth. I’d rather have Ben and Jerry’s, to be honest. But at least with this kind, I know I’m getting some protein in.

“He’s so cringy,” Gigi utters, putting the pillow under her chin, hugging it to her chest. “Why are those two idiots fighting over him. He’s a literal tool bag.”

“Yeah, I’m not really sure,” Harley says with the smallest laugh. “And it’s obvious he’s going to be bald in the next five years. Look at his hairline.”

“Sometimes baldness is hot.” I shrug. “Especially when the guy’s, like, jacked.”