Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
“Now, remember how we practiced. Watch the pitcher, watch the ball, and swing.”
“Got it.” She nods as I put the oversized batter’s helmet on her tiny head.
I look over to see Cyrus, leaning against the fence where the rest of my team is watching and clapping in encouragement wearing their bright blue ‘Team Anna’ t-shirts.
The opposing team members jog onto the field as I step back, tossing my mitt and ball onto the bench.
I square my shoulders, crossing my arms standing next to this man who seems to be stripping me with his eyes.
I remind myself he’s not my type. Not in the least bit.
We stand in silence as the pitcher winds up and throws a full force fast pitch that passes just inches from Brittany’s face. She lunges forward, spinning herself around with the force of her swing and landing on her rear end in the dirt.
“Hey!” Cyrus’s voice booms next to me as I turn to see his bottomless dark eyes flame with anger. “Watch your pitch or I’ll come out there and we can have a man to man about sportsmanship. She’s a little kid…asshole.” He lowers his voice on the last word as my pulse speeds.
This man is a complete stranger, but I already know we are in this together somehow, and I throw my hands up and shooting a glare at Doug.
“Really?” I yell toward where he stands along the first base line. He offers a nonchalant shrug, spitting on the ground near his feet and kicking at the dirt.
Brittany pushes to her feet, looks my way, her helmet crooked but she has a stubborn set to her jaw as she twists her hands on the bat and kicks at the dirt, getting her feet into place, shifting her hips back and forth a few times before nodding to the pitcher as if she’s saying, bring it.
“Just do your best,” I tell her, clapping as she takes her bat raised, eyes forward.
I glare at the pitcher, silently telling him he better take it easy, but as soon as I see his wind up, I know that’s not what’s going to happen. Little Brittany leans in, the pitch is fast, faster than the last and her helmet droops over her eyes.
She releases one hand from the bat, reaching to push the helmet back, shifting her off balance for a second. One shuffle of her feet, one wobble and her tiny head is right in the line of fire.
It all happens in a second. I launch myself forward but Cyrus is ahead of me when the gut-wrenching crack sends up a scream from Brittany, gasps from the crowd as our entire team empties the bench.
Cyrus slides on his knees next to Brittany's small, crumpled form in the dirt.
“Oh my God.” My hands are shaking as I brush her hair back and see the gash above her left eye, a purple lump rising as her eyes roll back white and her tiny body turns rigid.
“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Cyrus’s hand cradles her tiny head, easing her helmet off with his massive body shaking in anger.
There’s a flurry of activity all around us as I lean down and whisper soothing words into her ear as she twitches and curls into a ball. Cyrus stays next to me, holding her like a broken doll.
“She needs the hospital.” He swivels his head, locking on to the pitcher who is now standing at the sideline surrounded by his teammates. “You are so fucking lucky I’m more interested in taking care of her than killing you.”
Brittany’s eyes flutter and she looks up at me, then Cyrus. Spitting some dirt from her mouth before asking, “Did I hit a home run?”
“You sure did,” Cyrus answers before I can. “You won the game.”
She smiles as he gently moves his hands, picking her up as he stands.
“Let’s go get her checked out. I’ll drive.”
This monster of a man showing this much attention to a little girl he doesn’t even know only makes me want him more. The butterflies in my stomach flutter to life as Brittany starts to chatter at him like she’s known him her whole life.
He’s making her feel safe. I see it and I understand. He’s making me feel the same way.
Yet, at the same time, I’m ten kinds of confused. He’s nothing like what I want or need. He’s part of my family’s world. Gamblers and thugs and criminals, albeit all very well dressed. That’s the world I swore I would someday leave behind when I decided to start my own family.
But, here I am. Following him instead of dismissing him. Letting him lead the way because he has this calm dominance that makes me follow him like a puppy.
And I never want to follow.
But with him, I want to do that.