“Huh.”
“Huh what? There’s no huh.”
Sam sent her a knowing look. “Just stay out of elevators. All I’m saying.”
Pace let himself fall into the zone, and played hard. He pitched a solid two innings, giving up no runs, but during the bottom of the third, he went into his rotation and did something that sent a white-hot poker of pain through his shoulder. Through his entire body. All he knew was that oh holy shit, he couldn’t breathe, could barely see past the blinding, searing pain.
To add insult to injury, the batter got a piece of the ball and whacked it, a fast line drive to left field that took him to second while Pace stood there panting and seeing stars. He had to force himself to breathe through it as the New York home crowd roared with pleasure.
Wade signed, asking if he needed a minute.
No, he didn’t need a minute, he needed a new goddamn shoulder. He shook it off, then proceeded to throw out eight piece-of-shit pitches in a row, walking two batters.
Bases loaded, the crowd went wild. Fuck.
Wade ignored Pace’s next motion that he was fine and walked to the mound. Pace kept his hat low over his face, because out of anyone, Wade could read him like the back of his hand.
At first, Wade said nothing. Nope, as if they had all the time in the world, as if thousands and thousands of people weren’t watching and waiting, both in the stands and also on television, he calmly stood there, taut and steadfast. He adjusted his cap, then his mitt. Looked at the sky.
“You got something to say?” Pace finally asked.
“Yeah. It’s f**king hot out here.”
Pace let out a low laugh, which hurt like hell.
“So . . . Pizza after the game?”
Wade loved pizza, it was his comfort food. Pace’s, too, but at the moment the thought of food made him want to hurl.
Wade eyed the crowd, then the batter waiting on them. “He likes the ball inside. Don’t give it to him. Unless you’d like to give up another hit with bases loaded.”
Pace said nothing.
Wade adjusted his cap again. “You going to tell me the real problem or not?”
Pace turned the ball in his fingers.
“Not.” Wade sighed. “You want to get us through the inning?”
“Hell, yeah, I want to.” Pace pushed up his hat and revealed his face.
Wade met his gaze, his own going very somber. “But you can’t.”
At his imperceptible nod, Wade closed his eyes a minute, then gestured for Gage.
The Skipper jogged out, took one look at Pace’s face, and got a tick in his jaw. “You’re green. Tell me you have the flu.”
“No.”
“The shoulder?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, f**k me.”
“I’d rather not.”
Gage wasn’t amused. They lost eight to one.
In the medical room afterward, Pace had some X-rays taken but he was too swollen to see anything. It didn’t matter, in his gut he knew the truth. He’d likely torn his rotator cuff. That, or his arm was falling off, because that’s what it felt like.
On the bus back to the hotel, he sat packed in ice, his free hand in his pocket, his fingers wrapped around Holly’s thong.
Gage dropped into the seat next to him. “You okay?”
“No.”
“You want to talk?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Gage nodded. “Good. I’ll talk. What the hell happened in that shower room?”
“What do you mean?”
“You do more than kiss her?”
“Are you really asking me that?”
“It was supposed to be just a damn kiss. Whatever you did, you screwed with the flow.”
“Come on.”
“I’m serious. Now look at you, hurt.”
Pace let out a careful breath. “We did not lose because of whatever I did or didn’t do with Holly in that shower room and I sure as hell didn’t get hurt because of it.”
Gage leaned in and lowered his voice. “Maybe that’s true. Maybe you and I know it, but the rest of the team? They don’t know it. So you’re going to do this. Or not do this, in this case. No more hooking up with her.” Gage took in Pace’s expression and nodded. “Yeah, it’s stupid and juvenile, but it’s as good as fact that if they believe you’ve screwed with the routine and it’s over, then it’s as good as over.” With that, he got up and left him alone.
And he stayed alone for about two seconds before Wade slid into the spot. “Hey. Are you—”
“Don’t ask me how I am.”
Wade looked at him for a beat, his eyes sliding to Pace’s shoulder, and then he nodded. “Fair enough. We got some interesting rumors going on.”
Pace leaned back wearily. “I don’t care.”
“There’re two camps,” Wade said anyway. “One says you’ve already done the deed with the hot reporter and the lack of sexual tension between the two of you is the reason we lost.”
Pace closed his eyes and shook his head.
“The other says that you haven’t slept with her yet but that you took it too far in the shower room today, and that’s why we lost.”
Pace sighed.
“Personally, I have a different theory.”
“That we lost because I pitched like shit?”
“That we lost because we sucked today. All of us.” Wade smiled wryly when Pace opened his eyes. “Look, man, I’m going to make a suggestion.”
“Huh what? There’s no huh.”
Sam sent her a knowing look. “Just stay out of elevators. All I’m saying.”
Pace let himself fall into the zone, and played hard. He pitched a solid two innings, giving up no runs, but during the bottom of the third, he went into his rotation and did something that sent a white-hot poker of pain through his shoulder. Through his entire body. All he knew was that oh holy shit, he couldn’t breathe, could barely see past the blinding, searing pain.
To add insult to injury, the batter got a piece of the ball and whacked it, a fast line drive to left field that took him to second while Pace stood there panting and seeing stars. He had to force himself to breathe through it as the New York home crowd roared with pleasure.
Wade signed, asking if he needed a minute.
No, he didn’t need a minute, he needed a new goddamn shoulder. He shook it off, then proceeded to throw out eight piece-of-shit pitches in a row, walking two batters.
Bases loaded, the crowd went wild. Fuck.
Wade ignored Pace’s next motion that he was fine and walked to the mound. Pace kept his hat low over his face, because out of anyone, Wade could read him like the back of his hand.
At first, Wade said nothing. Nope, as if they had all the time in the world, as if thousands and thousands of people weren’t watching and waiting, both in the stands and also on television, he calmly stood there, taut and steadfast. He adjusted his cap, then his mitt. Looked at the sky.
“You got something to say?” Pace finally asked.
“Yeah. It’s f**king hot out here.”
Pace let out a low laugh, which hurt like hell.
“So . . . Pizza after the game?”
Wade loved pizza, it was his comfort food. Pace’s, too, but at the moment the thought of food made him want to hurl.
Wade eyed the crowd, then the batter waiting on them. “He likes the ball inside. Don’t give it to him. Unless you’d like to give up another hit with bases loaded.”
Pace said nothing.
Wade adjusted his cap again. “You going to tell me the real problem or not?”
Pace turned the ball in his fingers.
“Not.” Wade sighed. “You want to get us through the inning?”
“Hell, yeah, I want to.” Pace pushed up his hat and revealed his face.
Wade met his gaze, his own going very somber. “But you can’t.”
At his imperceptible nod, Wade closed his eyes a minute, then gestured for Gage.
The Skipper jogged out, took one look at Pace’s face, and got a tick in his jaw. “You’re green. Tell me you have the flu.”
“No.”
“The shoulder?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, f**k me.”
“I’d rather not.”
Gage wasn’t amused. They lost eight to one.
In the medical room afterward, Pace had some X-rays taken but he was too swollen to see anything. It didn’t matter, in his gut he knew the truth. He’d likely torn his rotator cuff. That, or his arm was falling off, because that’s what it felt like.
On the bus back to the hotel, he sat packed in ice, his free hand in his pocket, his fingers wrapped around Holly’s thong.
Gage dropped into the seat next to him. “You okay?”
“No.”
“You want to talk?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Gage nodded. “Good. I’ll talk. What the hell happened in that shower room?”
“What do you mean?”
“You do more than kiss her?”
“Are you really asking me that?”
“It was supposed to be just a damn kiss. Whatever you did, you screwed with the flow.”
“Come on.”
“I’m serious. Now look at you, hurt.”
Pace let out a careful breath. “We did not lose because of whatever I did or didn’t do with Holly in that shower room and I sure as hell didn’t get hurt because of it.”
Gage leaned in and lowered his voice. “Maybe that’s true. Maybe you and I know it, but the rest of the team? They don’t know it. So you’re going to do this. Or not do this, in this case. No more hooking up with her.” Gage took in Pace’s expression and nodded. “Yeah, it’s stupid and juvenile, but it’s as good as fact that if they believe you’ve screwed with the routine and it’s over, then it’s as good as over.” With that, he got up and left him alone.
And he stayed alone for about two seconds before Wade slid into the spot. “Hey. Are you—”
“Don’t ask me how I am.”
Wade looked at him for a beat, his eyes sliding to Pace’s shoulder, and then he nodded. “Fair enough. We got some interesting rumors going on.”
Pace leaned back wearily. “I don’t care.”
“There’re two camps,” Wade said anyway. “One says you’ve already done the deed with the hot reporter and the lack of sexual tension between the two of you is the reason we lost.”
Pace closed his eyes and shook his head.
“The other says that you haven’t slept with her yet but that you took it too far in the shower room today, and that’s why we lost.”
Pace sighed.
“Personally, I have a different theory.”
“That we lost because I pitched like shit?”
“That we lost because we sucked today. All of us.” Wade smiled wryly when Pace opened his eyes. “Look, man, I’m going to make a suggestion.”
