AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter One
Rafe Wilson tuned out the sounds of the crowd heckling the Hawks’ catcher, who was currently at bat. He focused on the plate, listening for the telltale crack, and moved as soon as the surface of the bat made contact with the ball, sending it straight at him. Rafe was crouched low, body aligned, glove in position for an easy out. He felt it slip a split second before it happened but still had a hard time believing he’d actually dropped the damn ball.
What the heck was that?One minute, it was in his glove and the next, it lay in front of him on the tan sand of the diamond. He didn’t spare a second to analyze why he’d fumbled a ball for the first time in—well, hell, in a damned long time. He’d made very few errors since he’d been called up to the majors four years ago.
Rafe Wilsondidn'tmake errors.
He had the ball back instantly, rolled, shifted to a knee and shot it to his second baseman who turned to make the out, but it was too late. Rafe’s error had just cost his team.
It didn’t get any better from there. No additional errors, but his at bats sucked. He was so far off his game, he didn’t know how he’d face his teammates at the end of this cluster. Luckily for him, he was the only one running around with his dick in his hand today. The team pulled the win out in spite of him.
As they filed back into the Strikers’ locker room, Rafe ran through his routines in his head. Something was off and he needed to figure out what it was. He’d worn the right socks and had his grandmother’s antique cross necklace tucked under his shirt. He had followed the right patterns coming out of the dugout for each inning and at bat. He replayed his movements out on the field and in the batter’s box. Everything had been right. Every routine was completed with precision and accuracy.
“Rafe!”
Rafe looked up to see his teammate, pitcher Aiden Kyle, coming his way. The rest of the team was studiously ignoring them. Clearly, his teammates had silently nominated Aiden to confront him.
“What happened out there?”
Rafe shook his head, sinking down into the overstuffed leather chair sitting in front of the spacious, open-fronted locker that housed his equipment. They’d all be here for another hour, at least. He might be here even longer since his coach would no doubt want to talk to him after his performance.
“Hell if I know, Aiden. I don’t know what happened.”
Gage Collier, the team’s catcher, swiveled his chair toward the pair and chimed in. “You miss a step anywhere?”
Rafe knew what he was asking about. The whole team knew Rafe was particular about his routine. Fans and sports analysts would call them his superstitions, but his teammates rarely gave him crap about them. Almost every Strikers’ player had one or two things they were particular about: a specific shirt they had to wear for every game or a certain way they stepped out onto the field, the same way, every single time. Rafe just happened to have a lot more of thoseroutinesthan others. But, the guys didn’t care, because they worked for Rafe. Most of the time.
Rafe shook his head again. “Nope. Didn’t miss a damn thing.”
Aiden, who was just as tolerant of Rafe’s routines as Gage, shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe it’s time for a change in the routine. Maybe you need to troubleshoot it.”
Rafe scowled at him but didn’t have time to answer. His hitting coach stood in the door to the offices and called him over. The first and third base coaches joined them. Fantastic, thought Rafe as the door shut behind him. This would be a freaking nightmare.
The next night, Rafe looked up to find his friend—and the host of this evening’s cookout—Kane Tyler looking at him with a grin on his face. Kane was a linebacker for San Francisco's professional football team, the Brawlers. He was also one of Rafe’s best friends, and he often hosted barbecues with both Striker and Brawler members. The teams meshed well together, despite the fact that they had somewhat opposite seasons and schedules.
“Damn, didn’t you hear me? Don’t tell me you’re still obsessing over every damned move you made yesterday. Maybe your performance didn’t have anything to do with what pair of underwear you put on. Maybe you just had an off game,” Kane said.
Football players had their own share of superstitions, but none of the Brawlers quite met the level of most of the baseball team. Rafe’s teammates were on Kane in a heartbeat, defending him.
“Hey, back off, man,” said Aiden. “We don’t knock what works. And troubleshooting hisroutine,” he stressed his choice of the word routine over superstition—no one wanted to admit they were superstitious, “has always worked for Rafe. Let him do his thing.”
“Yeah,” said Gage. “Rafe just has to troubleshoot. He’ll figure it out and he’ll be back in the game tomorrow.”
Kane rolled his eyes, but Rafe happened to know that Kane had worn the same shoelaces in his cleats the entire last season, despite having to knot them together in places. He wouldn’t play without them.
“Come outside while I throw the meat on the grill, guys. Elise and her friends will have the salads and sides ready in a minute,” Kane said, giving Rafe’s foot a kick as he walked by to get him up off the couch and moving with everyone else. “And, grab that cooler. There’s beer for those who don’t have a game tomorrow, and juice and water for the baseball players,” he said with a grin. The Brawlers were in their off season so they weren’t quite as rigid about diet and exercise as the Strikers had to be.
Rafe grabbed the cooler and followed the others out to the yard. Kane and Elise had bought the house a few months back, and Rafe had a feeling they planned to fill it with kids sometime in the not-so-distant future. When he’d been a bachelor, Kane lived in a penthouse suite at a hotel—the perfect bachelor pad with no maintenance needs and an endless supply of concierge services. Things had changed shortly after he’d married Elise. The yard they spilled out into now was perfect for raising a family. Fenced in with lush green grass, room to run and throw a ball, and tall shade trees that filled up the back half of the yard.
Not Rafe’s kind of place, but he could see how it would appeal to Elise and Kane.
“I’ll tell you what we really have to watch out for this year,” said Aiden after they all settled into chairs on the patio. “We all need to make damn sure no one triggers the curse.”
He looked at each of the Strikers present in turn, his expression clearly saying, “You know what I mean.”
“Oh hell, I gotta hear this,” said Jake Sykes, Brawlers wide receiver, sharing a smile with Kane who was now putting burgers and chicken breasts onto the hot grill.
“Hey, don’t knock the curse. It’s nothing to laugh about,” said Gage.
