“Are you nervous?” she asks quietly as we stand on the grass at Bandit Field.

My eyes are following each of my teammates as they take their turns. I’ve never had a woman on the field with me before, and it hasn’t escaped my attention that members of the media have taken not only her picture but also our picture together. Since the scare at home, we’ve both kept a low profile, but I knew bringing her here would put her right in the spotlight. Turning to face her, I nod, but it’s almost imperceptible to anyone who’s looking. “As fuck.”

The side of her mouth lifts up in a grin. She reaches out, taking my hand in hers. “There’s no reason to be.”

“No reason to be? Do you see all these standing people around waiting to report back on how I handle this? Not to mention this is going to the first time I’ve taken batting practice since my injury. It’s a nerve-wracking time.”

“Look.” She rubs her fingers over mine to get my attention. “I believe in you, maybe I didn’t the way I should have all those years ago, but I do now. I know you’ve put the work in, I know you’ve done everything you were supposed to do, and you’ve got this, Savage.”

It’s not often she calls me by that nickname, even though I call her by hers all the time. “You think so?”

“I know so.” She stands up on her tiptoes, kissing me on the cheek. I swallow roughly against the tightness in my throat. Her complete faith in me is enough to bring me to my knees. “Go out there and show them what you can do.”

“Savage! You’re up.” Coach Turner holds my bat out to me.

I look at it, sitting between the two of us. This has been the thing I’ve been most scared to do. I’m terrified to plant my cleat in the dirt and hit for everything I’m worth. My hand literally shakes as I reach out and grab hold. There’s a hush over the crowd, even I can hear it. I’m trained to not notice what the people in the stands are doing, to not pay any attention to the other team, but this right here, I’m noticing everything.

The sun is shining down, the heat causing me to sweat as I slowly approach the batter’s box. Stepping in, I dig my cleat into the dirt and take a deep breath, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart. I tap home plate twice, gripping the handle of the bat between my hands, thankful I’m wearing gloves to keep it from slipping.

The first pitch comes across and I lay back on it.

“That was a perfect pitch.” Coach Turner’s voice is loud. “Don’t be scared of it, son. Go for it.”

I hear what he’s saying, but this is as much mental as it is physical. The next pitch comes across, again perfect, and this time I hear the whole the stadium breathe a sigh. I can hear the doubts playing in everyone’s mind.

“C’mon babe, you got this!”

Her voice is the one I hear above everything, and it gives me a shot in the chest I need. Stepping back out of the box, my eyes meet hers; she gives me an amazing smile and a thumbs up. “You can do this!”

Blowing out a breath, I nod at her as I step back in, performing my rituals. The pitch that comes over home plate this time makes the ball look like it’s as big as a house, and instinct kicks in. Extending my arms, I pivot, pulling my arms back. When I feel the crack of the ball against the barrel of the bat, I follow through, watching as it sails over the right-field wall. The screams in the place are deafening, Malone’s is the loudest.

Coach Turner claps from behind the cage. “How’d it feel?”

“Good, no twinges.”

He grins at me as I grin back at him. “Go ahead and hit us some more, Savage, then we’ll see how you do fielding.”

“Got it.”

And as I face the pitcher again, this time taking it straight over the center field wall, I realize just how much I’ve missed this place. When I spy Malone talking to Coach Turner’s wife, I realize just how much I want her to be a part of my life here, and I wonder what it will take to convince her. This time, I won’t take no for an answer, not when I know she cares about me as much as I care about her.

“What do you do?” I ask the woman who introduced herself to me as Coach Turner’s wife. No first name, just his wife.

“What do you mean, honey?”

“For work?”

She gives me a look and then laughs. “Oh, I don’t work. Making sure Coach is prepared for the upcoming week is my job.”

It weirds me out how she even calls him Coach, not my husband, not his first name, but Coach. “You don’t work outside the home?”

“No.” She smiles as she waves to some of the paparazzi that have gathered. “Our job here is to support our men. It’s to make sure they know they can come home to a warm meal, an inviting bed, and a firm shoulder when they need it. To do those things, they become your life. They are your sole dedication and sole focus,” she continues. “There are charity functions we as a team work on, and my understanding is that Savage has his own, so I’m sure you would work on that. You’re passable enough to be a trophy wife.”

Whipping my head around, it’s my turn to give her a look. “Excuse me? I’m sorry? Trophy wife? I have a degree in PR, and the reason his charity is so successful right now is because of me.”

“Rule Number One.” She holds up one manicured finger. “You absolutely do not take credit for something that’s his.” She gives me a pointed stare.

His? I’ve increased the contributions to his charity by well over one hundred thousand dollars, and that’s because of the damn programs I’ve put into place. Tag lines and hashtags aren’t easy, but I can tell it’s not going do any good to tell her this shit. She’s brainwashed all on her own. I don’t even know what to say anymore, and thank God I’m saved when Slater comes over with the Coach.

“You looked good out there.” I reach up on my tiptoes, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Trophy wife number one gives me a thumbs up and a wink for supporting my man. I turn my face so I can roll my eyes and she won’t see.

“Thanks, it felt good out there. I’m still a little ways from playing, but I should be ready to go come ]\\.” He wraps his arms around me, lifting me up in a twirl.

I’ve learned not to caution him about his knee, but that doesn’t stop trophy wife from gasping. “You shouldn’t be lifting that much weight right now, Savage, we need you good and prepared for the season.”

This bitch just called me fat. I open my mouth to say something, but Slater picks that moment to speak as well. “Come with me to get my glove? I’m gonna field a few balls and see how that feels.”

“I would love to.”

When we get out of hearing distance, he puts his arm around my neck, pulling me close. “Thank you for dealing with her, all the wives and players absolutely can’t stand her.”

“So it’s not my job to be your little Stepford Wife?” I question as I look back at her.

He chuckles as we enter the dugout. “There are certain things I’d like for you to do if you moved here with me, but we can discuss those at another time. No sense in getting into it now.”

For some reason I feel like we should get into it, I feel like he’s blowing me off and Trophy Wife was being more real with me than I assumed she was. But I don’t have it in me to ruin his day, so I don’t push the issue. The talk though, it’s coming. I can feel it, almost like you can feel a summer storm brewing in the Gulf.

No matter how much we want to, I’m just not sure we can weather it.