Page 4 of Bad Ball Hitter
“Right. Because Mr. Bad Ball Hitter is all about the fireworks, not the girl.”
“Something like that.” I shrug and take another sip of my beer, brushing off the jab at my name. “It’s all good between Cara and me now. And, for your information, I’m seeing someone.”
AJ pauses, silently scrutinizing me with a mix of skepticism and concern. “You like her?”
The question catches me off guard, and I pause to look at him. “Since when do you care?”
“Fuck, I don’t, but don’t let Mia hear that. She’ll be pissed I messed this up.” AJ laughs, a short, sharp sound, and then grunts. “She’s worried about you, has been since the wedding. I was supposed to be casual with my prodding.”
If Cara weren’t AJ’s sister, our histories would be less tangled. “Tell her I’m fine. But yeah, I like Miranda.”
Considering this relationship is new, the name feels foreign to my tongue, but the half-truth does the trick. AJ nods, looking satisfied, his teasing grin softening into something brotherly. “You getting adjusted to the new team?”
“Yeah, Boston is where I’ve always dreamed of playing.” However, that has changed throughout my career. A lot has changed.
Witnessing Cara and Braxton’s marriage shifted something inside me. It took a while to figure out what had me down. After moving to a new city and team, it didn’t take long to realize I wanted stability. I want what Braxton and Cara, hell, even what AJ and Mia have. It’s time I stopped playing the field, so to speak.
I wasn’t ready when I dated Cara, but she was the closest person to touch on what I felt about my high school girlfriend, Lila. But, like back then, life was hectic. I had just gotten called up to the majors when I met Cara. They traded AJ to the Dodgers shortly after, which opened my starting position. Like every young and dumb guy, I welcomed the attention with open arms.
And it went straight to my head—the one without the brain.
The exhilaration of being on the field, the roar of the crowd—it was intoxicating. Baseball wasn’t just a game; it was my life’s blood, the axis on which my world spun. But it was also a jealous lover, demanding all my time, attention, and energy, leaving little room for anything or anyone else.
Little did I know the Phillies would trade me to the Boston Bears with a year left in my contract. Guess turnabout is fair play.
“Think you’ll stay there after?” AJ’s question knocks the memories loose and pulls me back to the present day.
“My agent’s working on a multiyear contract with a few other teams.”
“Yeah?”
“We’ll see what happens at the end of the year.” I just need to keep my batting average up to get that big paycheck.
“So what’s this Miranda like?”
“She’s smart, funny,” I start, crossing my arms over my chest as my mind races, grasping for convincing details. I doubt saying big tits and a killer body will earn me the brownie points I’m aiming for, but I don’t know her that well. We’ve dated for less than a month. “Dark hair, beautiful?—”
“Sounds like your type.” He nods, leaning back on his heels. The playful glint in his eyes doesn’t quite reach the rest of his face.
“Definitely.” My response feels like swinging at a pitch I should’ve let pass. Guess that’s why I earned the title Bad Ball Hitter. I fucking swing at everything. But I must admit, being aggressive has benefited me.
“How’d you meet?”
“She’s a masseuse.”
“Does she work for the team?”
“Nah. The spa she owns is near my apartment. Figured I’d give it a shot.” That part isn’t a lie. My muscles ached from the game the night before, so I made a knee-jerk reaction to walk in. I expected nothing beyond a decent massage, but Miranda walked in with her calming presence. Her smile was the first thing that caught my attention. It was warm and genuine and reached her eyes in a rare and inviting way.
As she worked the tension out of my shoulders, we talked about everything and nothing—movies, books, the chaotic beauty of city life. It was the most relaxed I’d felt in months, maybe years. And when she laughed, it wasn’t just her voice; it was her whole being, vibrant and infectious. I found myself wanting to hear that laugh again, to be the reason for it.
“Good for you, man.” He claps me on the shoulder, the weight of his hand grounding me back to the present. “Remember, the game isn’t everything. Don’t let the good ones slip away.”
Too late for that.
His words hit too close to home, echoing my own regrets. If only I could hit rewind and draft a new ending where baseball didn’t come between Lila and me. But life doesn’t work like that. There are no redo’s, just tough lessons that hit you like a fastball to the gut.
“I get it.” I fix my gaze on the fading trails of the fireworks, the vibrant colors bleeding into the night. The game had given me a lot: fame, money, and a rock-solid identity. I’m about to cash in big time, but at what cost? Relationships turned into collateral damage, sacrificed at the altar of my relentless chase for greatness.