Chapter 30
Fisher
Present Day
The entire town, including all the tourists, has packed the small baseball field next to Barney’s. The bleachers filled up quickly, so most people brought chairs and blankets and they are spread out all around the chain-link fence surrounding the field, cheering the teams on. Every year, the businesses put their names in a hat if they have employees who are going to play and the mayor draws the teams to make it fair. I really had no intention of playing this year, but a last minute ankle injury had me filling in starting in the third inning. I was team captain the last game I played in two summers ago, and let’s just say it didn’t go very well. My drinking had started to get out of hand right around that point and everything pissed me off, even what was supposed to be a fun, friendly competition between local businesses. I almost got kicked out of the game for shouting at my team every time they made a shitty play, but Lucy did her best to calm me down and convince everyone I was just having an off day.
To say I was a little surprised that everyone begged me to play today is an understatement. The only reason I agreed is because the team that needed me is Lucy’s team and the captain is my father. He’s made it a point not to let Lucy bat and threw her as far out in the outfield as she could get and still be on the damn field.
It’s the bottom of the ninth and our team is losing 3-1, bases loaded with two outs. It’s not looking very good for Fisher’s Fireballs. If we don’t get our guys home, the game is over. I thought being in the dugout with Lucy would be the perfect opportunity to talk to her, but every time I’ve tried, she’s done whatever she could to avoid me. I realize it’s not the most private place to have a deep conversation, but at this point, I just want her to smile at me and give me some sort of sign that things are going to be okay with us. We’ve played many Fourth of July softball games together over the years, but this is the first time I’ve had to hold myself back from scooping her up in my arms and cheering along with her when our team makes a good play. We were always getting yelled at in the outfield for sneaking kisses and smacking each other on the ass and not paying attention to the game. I miss having fun with her. I miss doing normal things and being the couple that everyone teased because we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. Now, I have to force myself not to rub her shoulders while she’s clutching onto the fence and cheering on the team. I have to find something else to do with my hands to avoid winding her long ponytail around my hand and pulling her head back for a kiss.
“Mark, you’re up!” My dad shouts to the owner of the Lobster Bucket, who was snoring at the end of the bench.
“Seriously?” I ask quietly through clenched teeth. “Mark has been up to bat four times already and each time you’ve had to wake him up from his afternoon nap. And he has yet to get a hit.”
My father takes his ball cap off and scratches his head. “Mark is next in the line-up, so Mark better get a hit this time.”
“Put Lucy in,” I argue. “She can at least get us a base hit and then I’m up after that.”
“Since you aren’t the team captain this year, a wise decision after your behavior last time, sit down and keep your opinions to yourself,” he argues back.
I’m about two seconds away from shoving my father into the dugout fence behind him when Lucy comes up next to me and puts a hand on my arm.
“It’s fine if your father doesn’t want to put me in,” she says sweetly. “If we do end up winning, we’ll just have to forfeit our victory and give the trophy to the other team. No big deal.”
I watch her shrug with a cheeky smile and I try not to laugh.
“What the hell are you talking about?” my father asks in irritation.
“Oh, didn’t you hear? They established rules this year on account of Erika throwing that ball at Stephen’s head last year because he kept making jokes about her holding his balls when she got up to bat,” Lucy informs him.
I chuckle to myself, a little sad that I didn’t get to witness THAT moment between the married owners of the town’s dry cleaners.
“Not only are spouses no longer allowed to play on the same team, every person ON the team must get at least one up-to-bat. Any violation of the rules results in a forfeit,” Lucy finishes with another sweet smile.
“Why didn’t I hear about these stupid rules?” my father grumbles.
Lucy leans up on her tip toes and snatches the baseball cap from my head and puts it on her own, pulling her ponytail through the hole in the back before grabbing a bat from the holder beside my father. “I’m sure you were too busy trying to take over the world to pay attention at the last town meeting. It’s a good thing you have me.”
She moves past him and out of the dugout, putting a little extra swing in her hips as she goes. My father throws his cap across the dugout and I laugh right in his face before moving to the opening so I can get a better look at Lucy’s ass.
I mean, yell some encouraging words as she practices her swing.
Seriously though, those tiny black cotton shorts she’s wearing have been torturing me all day and watching her lean forward and stick out her ass as she gets ready for the first pitch is making me sweat. My heart is also thundering a little harder in my chest that she’s wearing my cap, something she’d always done. Even when she’d bring her own hat to the game, she’d always take it off and steal mine when she was up to bat, arguing that it brought her good luck. It was an outright lie because she never got a hit whether she wore my hat or not, but it still made me feel good to see her wearing it. She looks so fucking hot in that white Butler House tank top and tiny black shorts with my baseball hat on her head.
“Let’s go, Lucy! Homerun!”
The crowd screams and cheers when they see her up to bat and now I’m nervous as hell. She played softball her senior year of high school, and let’s just say she spent a lot of time on the bench. We’ve played in many games together since she started running Butler House, and her skills hadn’t really improved, either. It didn’t matter to her because she was playing for fun, but I really want her to show up my father and make him look like an ass.
The first pitch comes and flies right by her.
“STRRRRRIKE!”
“Well, there goes this year’s trophy,” my father mutters in irritation behind me.
“Come on, Lucy! You can do this!” I shout to her, ignoring my father.
She tightens her grip on the bat, shaking her hips a little as she gets into stance. My dick immediately wakes up in my shorts and starts panting.
The next pitch comes and she swings a second too late.
“STRRRRRIKE!”
Half the crowd boos while the other half cheers and I step out onto the dirt and yell for a time-out. Butch, who’s the ump today, backs away from the plate while I jog over to Lucy.
“Shit. I forgot how much I suck at softball,” Lucy laughs nervously as I approach her.
“You’re doing fine,” I tell her. “Just choke up on the bat a little.”
Grabbing her hands, I move them up the neck of the bat. She looks up at me and I don’t remove my hands from around hers on the bat as I stare down into her blue eyes. I take another step closer to her until our toes are touching and I can feel her breath on my face.
“Keep your eyes on the ball the entire time, from the second it leaves the pitcher’s hand until it connects with your bat,” I tell her softly.
Sliding my leg between hers, I tap the instep of her foot with my toe.
“Spread your feet apart a little wider. You’re stance is too tight.”
Lucy leans into me when she moves her feet apart and I take a deep breath, inhaling the coconut scent lingering on her skin. Her eyes still haven’t left mine and my hands still haven’t let go of hers around the bat. I beg my dick to stay at ease and not jump up and poke her in the stomach.
“If it helps, imagine the ball is my head and you should be able to knock that thing out of the park,” I tell her with a soft smile.
Her cheeks flush pink and I’m hoping it’s because of my close proximity and not the sun blazing down on top of us.
“I think I got it,” she whispers back, making no effort to move away from me.
“If you two are finished canoodling, can we get back to the game?” Butch asks, coming right up next to us.
We both turn our heads to see him smiling at us. He gives us a wink before pulling his face guard down from the top of his head.
I back away from Lucy and give her an encouraging smile, even though all I want to do is tackle her to the ground and fuck her on top of home plate.
“You can do this, Lucy. Eye on the ball.”
I clap loudly and continue cheering her on as I walk backwards towards the dugout.
As soon as I’m in the opening of the cage, my father comes right up next to me.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks in irritation.
“I was giving her a few pointers. Something you should have done as the team captain,” I explain sarcastically, trying my best not to lose my cool since the entire team has gotten up from the bench and is standing all around us cheering Lucy on.
“You were making a spectacle of yourself in front of the entire town. She has a boyfriend, who is in the stands and no doubt saw that entire display,” he says quietly with an edge to his voice. “Congratulations, you just made her look like the whore I always knew she was.”
My hands clench into fists at my sides and I get ready to spew as much hate at him as I can, but someone beats me to it.
“Shut the hell up, Jefferson,” my mother reprimands.
I didn’t even see her come down to the dugout, but I notice she’s carrying a small cooler filled with water bottles and must have been passing them out while I was with Lucy.
My father actually has the foresight to look embarrassed.
“Grace, I was just—”
“You were just, what? Making yourself look like an ass?” she interrupts him. “Keep your mouth shut about Lucy. You say one more unkind word about her and I will throw your shit out on the front lawn and you can find a new place to live.”
I don’t know who is more shocked about my mother’s threat, my father or me. We’re both wearing equal looks of disbelief on our faces, but mine is tinged with amusement that I can’t quite keep contained. I smile widely at my mother and she gives me a wink before going back to passing out bottles of water.
Moving away from my father before I punch him in the face, I start clapping and shouting as loud as I can for Lucy as the pitcher finishes up a couple practice pitches.
Pressing my hands together in silent prayer, I rest my fingers against my lips and hold my breath as Lucy gets into the stance I showed her and chokes up on the bat. The pitcher winds up and throws as hard as he can. Even with the entire park screaming and stomping their feet, I still hear the loud crack of the bat over the noise as it connects with the ball. My hands slowly drop from my face and my eyes widen in shock as I watch the ball Lucy just hit soar through the air and into the outfield.
The entire dugout begins screaming and hugging and jumping up and down. I start to join them when I realize Lucy is still standing on home plate with the bat in her hand, staring into the outfield in shock while the runner from third is almost home.
“LUCY! DROP THE BAT AND RUN, BABY!” I shout to her with a laugh.
She jumps out of her trance, tosses the bat to the side and takes off towards first. The guys in the outfield are scrambling to get to the ball since they all moved infield when she got up to bat. They’ve got a long way to run since she cracked the hell out of that thing. It bounced almost to the fence line.
Our entire team leaves the dugout and we’re standing along the first base line, cheering all the runners as they make it over home plate. The other team is screaming at the guys in the outfield, telling them to move their asses. Lucy rounds third when they finally get the ball and heave it infield. She slides across home plate like a pro, kicking up dust all over the place, right as the ball comes sailing in to the catcher.
“SAFE!” Butch shouts.
We all charge the mound, cheering and hollering and I shove people out of the way to get to Lucy, forgetting about the fact that we aren’t together and this isn’t a softball game of the past. I scoop her up into my arms and jump up and down. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and her legs around my hips and laughs as I chant her name with everyone else.
“Damn, if I’d known telling you to visualize my face as the ball would get you to hit a grand slam, I would’ve told you that years ago,” I laugh.
She throws her head back and laughs harder as everyone pats her on the back and congratulates her.
“Luce?”
Lucy’s laughter dies and her smile suddenly falls. She gently pats my shoulders to get me to put her down and I slowly lower her to the ground as her legs slide from around my waist. She untangles herself from my arms and turns to face Shit-Stain-Ford.
He grabs onto both of her hands and pulls her away from me and I immediately want to wrap my arms around her and bring her back in a jealous tug of war.
“I was going to wait to do this until later, but we might as well celebrate your win right here in front of everyone.”
He gives me a quick glare that goes unnoticed by Lucy since she’s currently looking over her shoulder at me. I slide my hands in my pockets and pretend like I’m not wondering what the fuck he’s doing.
He starts lowering himself to the ground and I feel bile rising up in my throat as Lucy whips her head around to look at him.
“What are you doing? Get up!” she whispers frantically.
He’s on one knee at this point and I suddenly realize exactly what he’s doing. The prick is proposing to my fucking wife and I want to beat his ass more than I ever have before.
“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I love you, Lucy Butler,” the motherfucking piece of shit pompous asshole tells her as he pulls a light blue Tiffany’s box from his shirt pocket and holds it open in front of her.
The diamond is bigger than her fucking finger and sparkles in the sunshine. Everyone gathered around home plate has quieted down and they’re watching this whole shit show unfold five feet away from me.
“Will you marry me, Lucy?”
I don’t bother to wait for her reply. I turn and walk off of the field, wishing I still drank. An entire bottle of whiskey sounds really good right about now, especially when I hear a loud cheer erupt from the field, most likely in celebration of Lucy’s engagement.