"Liam," Slade called from the kitchen. "I'm opening the wine."
He'd been so caught up in Claire, he'd forgotten Slade and Savanna were even there. Laughing, he slid his arm around Claire's shoulder and walked with her into the kitchen, determined to do everything he could to make sure she had a good night.
Dom's earlier words echoed in his head. If you're always focused on what's coming next, you miss a lot of great moments along the way. He didn't want to miss a single moment with Claire, but the further she became intertwined in his life, he couldn't help wondering what would happen next, or how they would be affected when he fully resumed his mascot duties.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SLADE
HE WAS HAVING THE WORST game of his season, maybe his career.
From his position at first base, Slade surveyed the scoreboard and wished they were already at the bottom of the ninth instead of the top. He'd gone zero-for-three in his at-bats, had committed a costly error in the second inning that resulted in Colorado taking the lead, and already had a huge welt forming on his ribs from a collision with the dugout railing while trying to catch a pop-up foul ball that he thought he should have caught.
A Sunday afternoon ball game in late June, with the sky a cloudless blue and a soft breeze blowing across the field should have been fun. Except they were losing their tenth game in a row. The fans weren't happy. His teammates weren't happy. The GM wasn't happy. And Dusty definitely wasn't happy.
Slade's gaze drifted toward the stands. His birth parents and half-siblings were sitting on the first base side, right behind the dugout. He'd thought of nothing else since they'd called to say they'd gotten tickets and were excited to see him play. They were supposed to meet up with him after the game too.
He saw them every time he walked back to the dugout, and he truly understood why some of the guys had a hard time playing in front of their families or old coaches. The emotion of playing in front of them combined with the mounting pressure to be the best and play a perfect game often worked against a player.
His concentration pinged from Tiffany, James, and crew to Savanna, sitting with Dom and Adam's wives, and finally back to the field.
Top of the ninth inning. Still a one-run game. Bases loaded, one out. The batter hit a sharp ground ball to first. Slade quickly got in front of it and knocked the ball down with his body and then picked it up bare-handed and rushed to throw to home plate, too high for Mario to catch. It flew behind the catcher who clearly wasn't expecting the ball.
As soon as he released the ball, Slade shook his head at his actions, and his momentary lapse of sense. He should have tried to turn a routine double play to end the inning, not throw to home. That was a mistake a player made in the minors, not the pros. Overthrowing the catcher was another mark against him, allowing two runs to score on his errant throw.
Shit.
The Riptide were down by three runs, and they were all his fault.
Thankfully, the pitcher struck out the next two batters to end the inning. But the damage was already done.
He apologized to his teammates as they walked to the dugout and most of the guys waved him off and told him not to worry about it. But Dusty's glare could have burned holes through Slade's body.
"Goddamn it, MacInnes!" Dusty stopped him at the bottom of the steps. "What the hell is wrong with you today? You're playing like shit. Get your head out of your ass and back on the field."
Slade nodded and walked past, ignoring the tirade as the manager continued to bellow. He sat hard on the bench with his head in his hands.
Dom sat beside him and tapped his shoulder. "You okay?"
"It's hard to focus."
"I can imagine. Hang in there. We just need to get a couple guys on base."
His teammates helped bail him out by scoring two quick runs to bring the Riptide back within one again. The rally carried on long enough to get Slade back to the plate. One last chance to redeem himself with two outs and guys on second and third. All he had to do was get the ball out of the infield and he had a good chance of knocking in two runs to win the game. But before he knew it, he was down zero-for-two in the count after fouling off the first two pitches. He knew he was in trouble because the pitcher now had a clear advantage over him, and could throw his best stuff at Slade.
And he did.
Slade adjusted his helmet one last time before glaring at the pitcher. He got into his batting stance. The crowd went wild, on its feet, cheering this last chance.
The pitcher threw a hard curve ball that started at Slade’s shoulders and quickly dropped into the strike zone, fooling Slade completely, and leaving him standing with his bat in his hands as the umpire called him out. Strike three. Striking out without swinging the bat was the worst possible way to end the game.
The crowd went silent.
Slade stayed in the batter’s box, head down, while the catcher moved past him to congratulate the pitcher.
All the excitement drained from the stadium, the fans headed to the exits.
This was now officially the worst game of his career.
He walked to the dugout, not looking at the stands. Most of his teammates had cleared out but Dom and Adam waited there.
With Dusty.
His manager met him at the top of the dugout. "What the hell were you looking at out there?"
Slade dropped his bat. "I fucked up. He fooled me. What do you want me to say? It
