9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nin e

Nolan — Then

T here were only a handful of things that felt like home.

Things that helped quiet the outside noise, helped me focus solely on where I was.

And red dirt beneath my cleats, my fingers gripping the stitch, was one of them.

On one knee, I stretched my arm back before I brought it forward and tossed the ball to the catcher, allowing the momentum to bring me to my feet. Glove ready, I caught the ball when the catcher threw it back and dropped to my knee, continuing the motion. Eight pitchers followed the same drill, nothing but the sweet sound of the ball hitting leather filling the bullpen.

It was the fall semester at Arizona Canyon University—more importantly, it was the preseason for baseball. Our team was the Arizona Rattlesnakes. Official practices and games wouldn’t start until after the new year, but the coaches weren’t wasting any time kicking our asses into shape. The first week, hell week—a week to weed out those who couldn’t mentally and physically hang—was brutal and enough to make me question my sanity, but I’d made it through, alongside thirty other players on the roster. It had been a whirlwind, moving to the city, adapting to a rigorous schedule, on top of trying to find my place on a new team. But one thing remained constant.

I loved to play ball.

“You’re taking something. There’s no way you aren’t,” Dalton wheezed, his voice ragged as we finished our last lap around the baseball diamond. “If I made you pee right now, I’m positive it would be dirty with roids.”

I smiled, my lungs burning as I slowed my breaths. “I don’t think steroids make you faster.” Even if they did, I wouldn’t take them. No way I’d risk losing my scholarship.

“Yeah? Ask your wife if she put something in that chicken sandwich she made you—I bet you anything she juiced it up.”

“It probably has something to do with me not staying up until four in the morning eating ramen,” I taunted, dodging him as he tried to put me in a headlock. Like me, Dalton was a freshman and one of my closest friends on the team. We’d bonded after being hazed by the upperclassman—an experience we vowed never to speak of again.

“I bet she puts a secret ingredient in it, all right.” Gabriel, a senior, slung his arm around our shoulders. He paused, building the anticipation before he said in a mock whisper, “Love.”

The guys around us laughed, and I did too, swatting the hat off Dalton’s head as he said, “Maybe we should all get a wife.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to marry your mom—” I grunted, doubling over as Dalton jabbed his elbow into my gut. I delivered one back before we joined the rest of the team, waiting for Coach to dismiss us for the day. I hadn’t known how it would be, starting with a new team, but it was better than I’d imagined. There was nothing like being around like-minded individuals who had a deep love for the game.

Eager to leave, I jogged to the dugout after Coach released the team, telling us he’d see us at early morning weights. “You going out with us tonight?” Dalton asked, packing his bag. “Or does the Mrs. Nolan Graham want you home? ”

I’d learned my first day being the only married player on the team would result in endless jokes and jabs, but I didn’t care as long they kept Indy out of it. “I’m going home.” I was so ready to see her. “You should too.”

He waved me off. “It’s the offseason—the coaches don’t care if we go out.”

The university had a strict no-tolerance policy, so I doubted that, but I wasn’t going to disagree with him. Wife or not, I didn’t want to go out. Even though he shared my passion for baseball, and a hope of someday going pro, Dalton’s devotion was different from mine. Not in a bad way—he was dedicated and worked hard—but he figured since we couldn’t be drafted until our junior year or we turned twenty-one, he might as well live it up now.

Maybe there was nothing wrong with his logic, but I’d never been one to party or drink for fun. If I wanted to play in the MLB, I needed to keep as clean of a slate as possible. I’d given everything I had to get here. People were counting on me. Indy was counting on me.

Dalton might have time to waste, but I didn’t.

I was riding on stolen time, praying like hell no one realized what a giant fraud I was.