The Ninth Inning (The Boys of Baseball #1) - J. Sterling Page 0,84
them, my bodyguard shadows back in action, walked me into the physical trainer’s room and dropped me off.
“He fucked up his hand,” Chance said to one of the trainers, who was working out a knot in one of our pitcher’s shoulders.
“Let me see,” he said as he moved toward me.
I shoved my hand in his face.
He squeezed it in a few places, and when I didn’t wince because I wasn’t a pussy, he said, “It’s most likely just bruised. If it was broken, I wouldn’t be able to put pressure in those places at all. No matter how tough you think you are. You need to ice it, elevate it, and take ibuprofen. You’re lucky.”
“Sure,” I said because I wasn’t feeling so lucky. And that feeling dropped significantly as Coach Jackson screamed my name and told me to get the hell in his office. “I guess I’ll take that ice to go,” I said, and trainer dude was already filling a bag and reaching for a bandage to secure it in place.
When my hand was firmly wrapped in an ice cocoon, I walked into Coach’s office, prepared for whatever hell was about to be unleashed.
“Shut the door,” he growled, and I did what I had been told.
“Goddamn it, Anders!” Coach started as he slammed his fist on top of his desk, papers flying in the air as a result. “Sit down.” He pointed at the lone chair.
I almost asked if I could stand instead but didn’t want to make him any angrier.
“Why did you have to go and hit him?” he asked once I’d finally sat down and rested my iced hand on my lap.
“Does the reason matter, Coach? Will it get me in less trouble?” I wasn’t trying to be a smart-ass, but I thought it might have come off that way.
“No. But you could at least tell me why, in your senior year, near the end of the damn season, you’d put everything at risk like this. You could have broken your damn hand!” Coach’s face was turning an unnatural shade of red.
“You need some water, Coach?”
“I don’t need any dang water. Now, tell me why.”
“He messed with my girl,” I admitted and waited for Coach to tell me what an idiot I was and how disappointed he was that I’d let a girl come between my dreams of going pro. I waited for the lecture that never came.
“Yeah”—his voice lowered—“I heard about that.”
My head fell forward with my surprise. “You heard?”
How the hell did Coach know already? It just happened.
“Repeat this, and I’ll deny it. Logan’s an arrogant asshole. And he’s always been jealous of you. I’m suspending you both for three games. If you aren’t playing, neither is he.”
I wanted to be pissed. Three games felt like a lifetime, especially at the end of the season when I knew our stands would be filled with scouts. But on the other hand, it was only three games, just one series. I knew I could live through that.
“Why are you suspending Logan? He didn’t hit me back,” I asked because he hadn’t technically done anything that warranted a suspension.
“No, he didn’t. He did something worse. You don’t purposely mess with someone’s girl. I won’t tolerate that kind of attitude on my team. It’s unbecoming behavior and unsportsmanlike, and I won’t have it. Three games. Your hand had better be healed by then. Get out.”
I pushed back from the chair, and it scraped against the floor on my way out. “I’m sorry for breaking your rules.” I had known that I was going against code when I hit Logan. I would do it all over again, but I didn’t want Coach to think I didn’t respect him. “But thank you for not kicking me off the team,” I added because I’d heard that Coach sometimes took his no-fighting-over-girls policy a little too far. Getting benched was an absolute, but getting kicked off was also a definite possibility.
“That’s an urban legend, by the way,” he said.
I looked at his face through surprised eyes. This whole time, I’d believed that people actually got kicked off the team because of girl drama.
“No shit?”
“No shit,” he said, giving me one of his elusive grins. “Now, get out.”
I walked out of his office and toward my locker when Mac and Chance appeared.
“What’d he say?” Mac asked.
“Three games,” I informed them both and watched as their faces dropped in defeat. “Logan too,” I added with a wicked grin.