Chapter 29 Dom

Chapter 29

Dom

“Cutting it close,” Dean says when I skid through the door to the locker room just in time to avoid a fine. I keep my head down and start getting ready at my cubby, but I can feel his dark eyes on me.

“I like it when you’re late. I got your favorite parking spot today,” Hendrix piles on. When I look up and see the picture of him and Poppy from New Year’s Eve hanging in his locker, the guilt hits me.

I respect Indie’s desire to keep her medical decisions personal for now. But she has so many people who care about her. The girls are at the top of that list, right below her dad. Mostly it just makes me sad that she won’t let them help her. Which means I can’t confide in my teammates.

“My alarm didn’t go off.” My grumbled lie makes me hate this whole situation even more.

“Bullshit. It’s either the dog or a girl. Which one has you on a leash?” Braxton Hayes asks, butting in.

“Be respectful. These guys choose to be leashed because they know they’ve overextended the fielding position,” I snap back, feeling defensive .

“What the hell are you talking about?” Xavier asks.

“It’s the baseball equivalent of out-punting your coverage,” I explain as I tie my cleats looking up to find five pairs of eyes staring down at me.

“He’s trying to say our girls are all too good for us,” Dean says, closing his locker.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Braxton shakes his head, following Dean towards the field.

“He’s actually right, it just doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Cruz says, patting me on the back, leaving just Hendrix and I.

“Everything okay? You seem . . . less you.”

Things are so far from okay. When I woke up to an empty bed this morning, I thought the worst, but the truth I found in the shower was more heartbreaking than I could’ve imagined. My hands ball into tight fists at my side and I have to fight to keep my breaths even. I want to punch something, rage about the unfairness of it all. More than anything, I want to wrap Indie in my arms and create a bubble around her to keep this all away. To protect her, to protect the future we’ve just started to build. None of this is fair. Indie’s already endured so much with losing her mom and she could have to face that same cruel battle. My stomach twists with just the thought and I think I might be sick.

Swallowing down the bile, I look up from where I’m staring at the cement floor and find Hendrix waiting, his arms crossed and his head cocked. I’m so close to breaking, to crumbling here on the bench and telling him just how not okay I am. Because I’m barely holding it together and the only reason I haven’t lost my composure yet is because Indie needs me to fight with her.

Don’t get me wrong, she’s more formidable than anyone. She could do this on her own, but I won’t let her, no matter how hard she pushes, and I know she will at some point. Not because she doesn’t want me, but because she’s terrified of how this could hurt me. My girl’s been fighting on her own for too long already, and now that she’s let me in, she’ll never face another battle without me there to help take some of the blows .

It takes everything in me to shut off all the warring emotions and tell the biggest lie of my life. “Yeah, it’s fine. They were right. I lost track of time playing with Ronnie this morning.”

There’s doubt in his narrowed eyes, but I shrug, standing to head out to the field.

“Is it lame of me to admit I was kind of wishing it was a human girl? You deserve to find someone like we have.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got everything I need.” At least that is the truth.

In the three days since I found Indie falling apart in my shower, I’ve learned more than I ever cared to know about ovarian cancer and the different types of brCA gene mutations. I’ve read studies in medical journals, I know the early symptoms, the survival rates for the different variations. If it’s available online, I’ve read it.

Early this morning I woke up in a cold sweat from a grim nightmare; one where Indie found out too late about her diagnosis and I lost her. Every complaint of a stomach ache or being tired is going to trigger me to think the worst. I’m terrified of what could happen, which is how I found myself at the stadium before breakfast this morning. All this fear and worry needs an outlet because Indie needs me.

The pitching machine reloads the balls and I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the sleeve of my shirt before hauling my bat back up and getting in my stance.

I’ve lost count of how many buckets I’ve taken at this point and my arms are heavy with fatigue as I load, coiling my body tight, and stride towards the machine, crushing the ball back at it. Over and over again. I repeat those steps until I’m out of balls and have to wait on the machine again .

The folding chair creaks under the weight of me dropping into it and I pull out my phone, scrolling to my dad’s contact information, he’d know what to say. Before I can hit the call button, the green light on the machine catches my eye and I drag my bat along with me as I push up from the chair.

“Take another round and I’ll bench you.” Coach Wilson’s gruff voice barks at me.

“I’m fine.” It’s not in my nature to argue with a coach, in fact this is the first time I’ve ever done it, but I’m not exactly thinking clearly.

“The hell you are. You’re a mess, Duran, and you’re done here. What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Can’t a guy put in some extra reps without getting grilled.”

“This isn’t extra reps. This is punishment. I’ve watched you take hundreds of balls without as much as a break to catch your breath.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” That nagging sensation to open up to someone is in the back of my mind begging me to tell him what I’m up against.

“You’re the happiest guy on the team. Cruz might be the captain, but you are the backbone. Whether they realize it or not, everyone on this team looks up to you. When things get hard, you keep everyone going. If someone is having a bad day you’re the first to pick them up. My job is to know everything I can about my players, and the man in front isn’t the unburdened Dom we are all used to. So tell me what’s got you in here killing yourself.”

I tell him everything, barely maintaining my composure through it. Pouring all my fear onto the concrete floor in front of both of us and when I’m done he pulls me into a hug and I let the floodgates open. It’s the temporary reprieve I need so I can be strong for Indie.

Dom:

I thought you weren’t going to hide from me.

Future Wife:

I’m not. I’ve been over three times this week.

Dom:

During my games to see Ronnie.

Future Wife:

I’m just a little overwhelmed since I made the appointment. Give me a few more days.

Dom:

You shouldn’t be dealing with this on your own.

Future Wife:

I’m not. I have Ronnie and your notes.

Dom:

You get two more days. I’m not leaving for this road trip without seeing you.