Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I look up to see Sawyer frowning at me from the pitcher’s mound.
“What do I—”
“Bend down, catch the pitches, throw them back.”
Is it just my imagination or is his tone a little clipped? It’s like he’s annoyed I’m not the world’s most experienced catcher.
“Okay.”
My stomach protests as I bend down into position. Then I hold my glove out in front of me like professional catchers do, but I’m not at all ready for when Sawyer’s first throw comes barreling at me at supersonic speed. I yelp as it slams into my glove.
Holy sh—
I glare down as if checking for burn marks.
OW!
“Throw it back, Madison,” Sawyer snaps impatiently.
I shake out my hand and toss the ball back, annoyed that it doesn’t make it all the way to him, but to be fair, it’s not so easy to throw well from this crouched position. Sawyer shakes his head in annoyance as he trots forward to scoop the ball up off the ground.
The second pitch heats up even more, slamming into my glove with enough force to almost topple me backward.
“Sorry,” the batter says quietly. “I’ll make sure to hit this one so you don’t have to catch it.”
Yeah…that’d be great, except he can’t manage it. Sawyer throws one more pitch and it smacks into my chest plate, flattening me out onto the ground. I blink up at the sky trying to get my bearings.
“Jesus, Sawyer. Ease up, will you?” David shouts, running home to help me back to my feet. “You okay, sis?”
“What day is it?” I tease.
He smiles and shakes his head. “He’s just trying to intimidate the other team. Come out guns blazing, that kind of thing. He’ll lighten up.”
Sawyer does not lighten up. He’s on fire, managing to strike out the first three batters. I’m grateful the inning ends relatively quickly as it means I don’t have to endure this torture for one more second. I stand and yank off my glove, staring down at my red, inflamed palm. My hand is shaking, but when Sawyer looks over, I give him a thumbs-up and a weak smile so he doesn’t have to worry that he might have hurt me. It’s probably my fault I don’t know how to catch better. Jimmy doesn’t complain about Sawyer’s pitches when he plays catcher.
Lindsey hurries over to help me out of the gear so I don’t have to waddle back to the dugout with it on. It would be nice if Sawyer assisted, or even acknowledged me, really. He’s been so aloof this morning, acting like we barely know each other. Is he trying to play it cool in front of everyone or did he finally take my “I just got out of an engagement” protestations to heart? And why does the idea of that no longer sit right with me?
David catches up to Sawyer on their way back to the dugout, and I overhear him ask, “What was that about?” but I don’t catch Sawyer’s reply.
I’m a sweaty dehydrated mess by the time the game ends, and I’m fairly certain I have two to three broken bones in my left hand. To no one’s surprise, Heatwave wins 10-0; Sawyer gave it his all. The other team couldn’t hit off him to save their life. It’s like Sawyer was trying to impress an MLB scout or something.
Jimmy and Pam have convinced Hunter to head to John’s Ice House for an early celebratory lunch, and they’re wrangling the rest of the troops as I try to down a Gatorade, desperate for the electrolytes.
“Charlotte? Lindsey? You guys in?”
Lindsey has to get back to Cruz, but Charlotte eagerly agrees, her eyes darting over to Sawyer to see if he’s joining as well, but he doesn’t notice. He’s too busy packing up the catcher’s gear, shoving the chest plate into a huge black duffel bag with seemingly little patience.
I walk over to him with the helmet. “Here, don’t want to forget this.”
He takes it without looking up. “Thanks.”
“Great game. You and I made quite a dynamic duo,” I tease. “And hey, I should regain feeling in my hand by the end of the week, so it’s all good.”
He grunts, but he doesn’t laugh.
Okay, obviously something is up with him, and I’m pretty certain it has to do with us. Since I arrived back in town, Sawyer’s been the one chasing me, asking me out on dates, showing up uninvited to Queenie’s house and making his intentions very clear. While I’ve flirted and chatted along, happy to let him kiss me whenever he wants, I’ve also been sending mixed signals and pushing him away. I get that it might be confusing and he must have finally reached his limit. He has to be annoyed, and I know it’s my fault. I wish I’d had my head on straight from the start, but there’s been a lot going on and I really did think I needed more time between my failed engagement with Matthew and the start of something new. That said, if continuing to pump the brakes means letting Sawyer slip through my fingers because of bad timing, then screw timing.