CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

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MURPHY SHUT OUT the noise around him. Tunneling deep within himself, he found a thread of inner peace. Then another. And another. Until the string grew longer and longer. The trick was one he'd learned the first few days in rehab when he was certain he wouldn't survive another minute without a drink.

At the moment, his problem was bigger than jonesing for his next fix.

Breathe in. Breathe out. See the air. Feel the calm.

"What the hell are you doing?" Spencer asked.

Seated in front of his locker, Murphy kept his eyes closed while he rhythmically snapped the rubber band he'd placed around his wrist.

"Not thinking about my hand as it connects with your sister's ass."

"Ah," Spencer nodded in complete understanding. "If you find a solution to the whole man/woman conflict that doesn't involve violence, let me know."

"Violence is never the answer," Nick agreed as he adjusted the ties on his second baseman's glove. "Be a lover, not a fighter."

Dressed and ready to take the field, Travis took a seat next to Murphy. "A man who raises a hand to a woman should have his balls whacked off. For starters."

Murphy's eyes popped open. "For Christ's sake. I didn't mean I would actually hit Jordyn."

Spencer grinned. Nick chuckled.

"I believe you, man," Travis assured him. Then added, "However, I firmly stand by my words."

"What did Jordyn do?" Spencer asked. "I love my sister. However, she can be a bit… quarrelsome. Now and then."

"Jordyn isn't thrilled by the Cyclones contract offer."

"What did I say? Quarrelsome. Jordyn—"

"Can speak for herself, brother dear," Jordyn said. She met Spencer's gaze, the exact same green as her own. "Why don't you guys run along and play with each other's balls."

"You mean why don't we run along and play ball," Nick corrected.

Jordyn shook her head, lips twitching. "No. I said what I meant."

Nick let out a bark of laughter. "I swear. If I weren't madly in love, and Murphy wasn't as big as a grizzly, I just might—"

"Just might what?" Murphy asked, rising to his full height.

"Get my ass onto the field."

Alone—or as alone as two people could be in a locker room minutes before game time—Murphy turned his full attention to Jordyn. Her skin was flushed with a pretty pink that almost matched the silky dress she wore. Her hair, messy yet sexy, fell around her shoulders and her breath was a bit ragged. All signs added up to a woman who had rushed to get to him. Murphy felt a burst of hope.

"First?" Jordyn shook her head. "Correction. First, last, and always. I love you."

Definitely a good start, Murphy decided.

"I love you."

Jordyn nodded. "Actions are important. But words matter. We can't forget to tell each other."

"Agreed." Every day for the rest of my life, Murphy promised himself.

"And you need to sign that contract extension."

"Again. I agree."

"Good. I could never be with a man who would give up something he loved for my sake."

"And I could never be with a woman who would ask me to."

Murphy felt a weight lift from his heart. One day—in the near future—when he asked Jordyn to marry him, they wouldn't be surrounded by dirty towels and athletic equipment. However, with the right person, a little romance was possible. No matter the setting.

With an impressive flourish, Murphy twirled Jordyn into his arms.

"I guess we fit. Don't we?"

"I guess we do."

"Forever?" he asked as his lips brushed hers.

Smiling, Jordyn lightly tugged on his beard, her eyes like bright emeralds. "Forever. At the very least."

 

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LATE OCTOBER

 

JORDYN HAD BEEN here before. In the stands. Surrounded by crazed, screaming fans. Bottom of the ninth inning. Game seven of the World Series. However, the circumstances were very different. Unlike last year, the Cyclones weren't at home in front of a friendly crowd. And instead of down by a run, they were up by one.

Naturally, the home team didn't go down to defeat without a fight. The first two outs had been easy. Then a walk. A rinky-dink single to left field. And a hit batter which left the bases loaded. No place to put another body. A walk tied the game. A hit, and the Cyclones season would be over.

Jordyn didn't know if she could stand another second of the tension.

On the field, Murphy called time. Despite nine innings of back and forth baseball, his face drenched in sweat, hair plastered to his head and more dirt than uniform visible, he removed his mask and jogged out to the mound as cool as a cucumber.

Beside her, Blue clenched her hands, her eyes glued to the action.

"Miller looks like he would love to be anywhere but here."

Jordyn wanted to disagree. But she couldn't. The Cyclones' closer wasn't a rookie. But until this season, he'd never played in the postseason, let alone tried to close out a championship game seven. Murphy put his arm around the pitcher's shoulders. The strain on Miller's face was palpable. Then, Murphy grinned. And Miller grinned back.

"Mission accomplished." Blue took a deep breath. "Here we go."

All the moisture in Jordyn's tongue had transferred to her hands. Dry mouth, wet palms. She couldn't imagine how Murphy felt. However, before he donned his mask, he looked into the stands. Zeroed in on her location, and laughed as if to tell her to relax. The game was in the bag.

"The man has ice water in his veins," Blue said, amazed.

Jordyn shook her head. No, not ice water. Murphy was flesh and blood. Fully grown with the enthusiasm of a little boy. The man she loved who reveled in his second chance to play the game he was born to play.

Murphy threw down the sign. Alone on the mound, Miller nodded yes. Jordyn reached for Blue's hand, squeezed tight, and waited. The pitch sailed toward the plate, pure heat, a little low, but the batter couldn't rely on the umpire to call a ball instead of a strike. He swung with all his might.

Damn. Foul, Jordyn thought. They would have to start all over again. But Murphy had other ideas. He wasn't content to watch. He rushed toward the screaming crowd, his head back, eyes focused on the ball's trajectory. Then, when he had nowhere else to run, he jumped. Mitt outstretched, right into the crowd.

"Did he make the catch? Blue screamed. "Did he make the catch?"

Jordyn tried to find Murphy. Unfortunately, everybody in front of her wanted the same thing. She climbed onto her seat just as the majority of the crowd let out a collective groan. The rest? The ones dressed in Cyclones' blue? Collectively lost their minds.

"Holy crap," Jordyn screamed at the top of her lungs. "Murphy made the catch."