I thought I’d had enough practice during the first two innings.
And thenhestepped up to the plate.
I want to say I tried, but I really didn’t. Because when the opportunity to throw a fastball at his infuriating face arose, I couldn’t let it pass me by.
Thought it’d give myself that one petty pass, and then I remembered how he also had the audacity to cheat on my girl. So yeah, that second pitch was aimed at his junk.
After that second pitch and watching both looks of slight terror on his face, I thought I had calmed the beast inside me. The one that’s bloodthirsty for revenge on Isabella’s behalf.
But I’m here to do my job, and although I didn’t show it just now, I know how to be a professional.
That is until the fucker steps out of line.
The moment I see him face Isabella, I want to physically turn his neck around myself and have him face me, the person who would happily be the star of his nightmares.
But when he shouts something to make her face go ghost white, followed by blowing her a kiss? Yeah. He’s officially done for.
I toss my glove on the ground and flip my hat backward as I make my way toward him, my long strides eating up the distance fast.
At the sight of me leaving my spot on the field, the crowd starts to go absolutely mental. Because something that sports fans like to see almost as much as their home team win is a fight.
And I’m about to give them a good one.
Jeremy turns and almost seems amused that I’m walking toward him. His survival skills are clearly lacking, among other things.
He shouts as he drops the bat and takes off his helmet. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you here to tell me that I’ve been very bad, Mr. Golden Boy?” He laughs. But that laughter slowly dies the closer I get.
The look on my face gives anything but wholesome.
Gone is the passive face of the player who takes pictures with fans with his hands behind his back so there is never an accusation thrown his way.
Gone is the made-for-TV smile, the one usually on display when promoting toothpaste or whatever other shit I’ve sold under the guise of being America’s Sweetheart.
In that man’s place is the one who has promised to forever protect his woman.
As well as an exceptionally pissed off Puerto Rican man.
So I don’t give him a warning.
Fucking with what’s mine sealed his fate anyway.
So when I grab the neck of his jersey and pull him close to me, close enough to finally see the fear of God in his eyes, I put the power behind all my years of training in my swing. And the satisfying crunch that vibrates under my knuckles as he starts to bleed profusely from his nose brings me an intense amount of gratification.
So I do it twice more before I’m pulled back and engulfed by my team.
fifty
By the time Mateo reaches Jeremy, Charlie and I are on our feet.
By the time he lands the first punch, we’re rushing up the steps.
And by the time the fight is over, we’re long gone.
fifty-one
I’m ejected from thegame.
Coach is busy breaking up all the smaller fights that formed around me, so Luisa jumped in and escorted me down the tunnel and to the locker room.
