I don’t want to be alone.”
I wasn’t big on cuddling. I preferred to sleep alone. Especially during an important playoff series.
But I could hear the loneliness in Natalie’s voice. She needed me.
I sighed and opened the door. “Come on. Before someone sees you.”
We climbed into bed and she curled her body against mine, resting her cheek on my chest. Her pajamas were soft and I felt my cock stir, but I forced myself to ignore it.
It was even easier to ignore when she started weeping.
She cried for ten minutes, gentle sobs like she was holding back the really hard crying. I stroked her hair and let her get it out.
“I miss Joel,” she said when she was done. “And I’m afraid for Rafa.”
“Me too.”
She chuckled, but there was no humor in her voice. “I’m surprised you let me in. I know you’re not big on cuddling.”
I thought about my own feelings for Natalie. Because as much as I wanted to pretend otherwise, I did have feelings for her. She wasn’t just a hot piece of ass who helped me blow off steam, or a sexy fuck-toy to do with as I pleased. She was so much more than that.
And now that she was here, in my arms? I realized I didn’t want to be alone tonight either.
“I didn’t want to let you cry in the hallway,” I said gruffly.
“Thanks for that,” she said dryly. “Don’t worry. Once the season ends I won’t be around to annoy you.”
As I smoothed out her hair and comforted her, I reconsidered everything I thought about this relationship and when it was supposed to end.
33
Natalie
Yankees Stadium was a special place to any baseball fan. Even though this new stadium was only a decade old, it had the same feel of the older stadiums where Ruth, Mantle, and DiMaggio played.
But in the playoffs? This place was electric.
Down in the dugout as the game was about to start, it felt like there was a herd of elephants running around above us. The entire stadium shook as the Yankees prepared to bat in the bottom of the first inning. The fans in the right field bleachers, colloquially known as the bleacher creatures, shouted chants and heckled Preston, the Rangers outfielder. In the crisp October air, it felt like being in the middle of a prize boxing match.
In spite of the poise he had shown during the regular season, Domingo withered under this pressure. He gave up five runs in four innings, and we never recovered.
The next night we had Jake Miner pitching. Since he had begun the season as the number-two starter in the rotation and had since been demoted down to number-four, he had a chip on his shoulder. He was angry on the mound, shouting and pumping his fist after every out like a closer at the end of a game. It nearly caused a bench-clearing brawl in the fourth inning when Giancarlo Stanton shouted back at him after striking out, and the two players had to be pulled away before it grew violent.
Miner gave up two runs in seven innings, which was more than we ever could have hoped for against the Yankees. It was more than good enough. We knocked the Yankees starter out of the game in the third inning and scored six runs. Darryl had a stellar game, and was a triple shy of hitting for the cycle—an accomplishment where the batter got a single, double, triple, and home run all in the same game.
Even though we had a four-run lead, Cortez came out of the bullpen to close out the ninth. It only took five pitches, and then the game was over. Everyone rushed out onto the field and celebrated. The series was over. We had won the ALDS.
It was kind of anti-climactic winning in someone else’s stadium, where the crowd was quiet and unhappy. But we were joyous, and the players piled together on the field and jumped up and down.
“This is only the beginning!” Darryl announced to the team in the visitor’s clubhouse. “It’s a good start, but it’s still just a start. We’re four wins away from the World Series. The only thing standing in our way are the Indians or Red Sox, depending on who wins tomorrow. Let’s relax, and then fuck their shit up!”
Later, when we were on the plane flying back to DFW, I elbowed Darryl in the seat next to me. “That was some speech you gave. Last season you were the brooding first