Chapter 34

Brooks

I doMackenzie on the floor.

In the shower, the kitchen, the hallway, the living room, and against the door.

On my new bed, beneath my unicorn chandelier because apparently free renovations only go so far, and under the watchful eyes of pictures of the entire Thrusters' hockey team, which is a little weird, but then, what isn't weird?

We do it missionary-style. Doggy-style. Twisted pretzel. Trapeze artist-style.

That last one didn't go so well, but at least we didn't get hurt. Also, her breasts are gorgeous when they're jiggling as she laughs until she can't breathe.

I should have every Monday off. And so should she.

Tuesday morning, I'm a mass of satisfied nerve endings serving my beautiful date fresh bacon-Nutella pancake sandwiches too early in the morning, but she has to get to work early to make up yesterday's hours so she can get to the game tonight.

After delaying her longer than I should to kiss her simply because I can, I go back to sleep for a few hours after she's gone, with Coco Puff snoozing next to me, basking in the scent of Mackenzie all over my sheets.

Crazy woman.

And I say that in the good way, for the record.

She's the one.

She's my one.

My game won't suffer for falling for her. I won't let it. I refuse to continue to be that guy letting superstitions rule my life.

Not when I can have Mackenzie in my life.

She's choosing me over her team. Over her own superstitions. Over her own beliefs.

She's choosing me.

And so I'm going to put both our superstitions to rest tonight.

Once and for all.

My puppysitter arrives on time, and I get to the ballpark around two. Do my normal stretches and warm-ups with Luca and Cooper. Trade insults about who does the worst Robert DeNiro impersonation, because it's fun.

Talk Torres off a ledge when he hears Santiago's not putting him in the starting rotation tonight.

Have a few interviews with the media, who want to talk about yesterday's pick-up game in the park, what pranks are going on in the locker room, and how I'm feeling about heading back to New York later this week for my first time in the stadium up there wearing another team's uniform.

"Good," I answer. "Gonna feel even better when I hit a home run for the Fireballs."

"How's your family feel about that?"

"Dunno. You'd have to ask Sammy Rogers. Ma's calling him Sammy Rogers-Elliott now. Had him over for dinner last week to interview him for the open position of youngest son."

The roomful of reporters gapes at me.

I snicker, because there's no way my family's adopting the guy the Fireballs traded me for just because he took my spot on New York's roster, and then they all start laughing with me.

"Cooper Rock know his position as funniest guy on the team's in danger?" one of them calls.

"There's never too much funny in a team family."

We have a team meeting where Lila hands out our new Fireballs pajamas and orders us to make sure they fit right before we wear them on the plane to New York Friday morning.

They're fucking awesome.

Footies and all.

But the best part?

The best part is the shock that turns to laughter that turns to trash-talking who's gonna look best sporting Fireballs mascot pajamas when we saunter out of Duggan Field to board the bus to the airport Friday morning.

"This is gonna get me laid!" Robinson crows while he models his pajamas over his warm-up gear.

"It's gonna get Elliott cock-blocked," Stafford calls back.

Nah.

We're done with that.

Even if I show up at Mackenzie's place with a giant Meaty on my crotch, which is, appropriately, exactly where the Meaty mascot landed on my pajamas.

I watch videos of San Francisco's starters and talk with Addie about what sort of pitches I'm likely to see today. I take batting practice and hit the ever-loving fuck out of the ball, including one memorable shot into center field that nearly wipes out Glow the Firefly.

He shakes his big round butt at me.

I line up and hit the next practice pitch at him again, and Santiago yanks me out of batting practice. "Think you got this, Elliott, and I'm not losing a player to an interrogation over a mascot death."

I check my phone. Send Mackenzie a few texts.

Send my family a few texts, because Parker's phone is a thing of beauty and even when I'm in a good mood, it makes me happier.

I corner Tripp and Lila and tell them they owe it to Mackenzie to get her in here to toss out the first pitch one of these days, because she's single-handedly brought half of Copper Valley back to baseball with her Fiery Forever campaign.

They give me a lecture about the fact that there are thousands of Fiery Forever T-shirts being handed out on the corners like they're official Fireballs giveaways.

I pretend innocence.

They don't believe me, but they also don't fire me.

We all know they're only lecturing because it could've been a safety hazard. Like I didn't call Rhett first to get some of his SEAL buddies mulling around in plain clothes to make sure nothing got out of hand.

The crowd starts arriving. I catch sight of Mackenzie in her regular seat with Sarah by her side right before the national anthem, and when we lock eyes, she smiles and blows me a kiss.

Home. Fucking. Run.

The game starts.

Second batter steps up for San Francisco and smacks a grounder. I can't turn around the ball I snag deep in the pocket between shortstop and third fast enough, and a runner gets on base, but we take him down with a double play and don't let anyone score.

We head into the dugout for the bottom of the first. Darren leads off with a single. Luca follows him with a walk.

I step up to bat.

And that's when everything goes to shit.