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I spot her right above our dugout, our team’s hat on her head, covering her face to stay inconspicuous to any cameras. Our games are often shown on sports networks, and she told me she needs to hide the best she can.
Not wanting to stare too long, I continue to trail my gaze across the stands. The crowd is already electric, the seats filled with green and white for our opening night. It generates a buzz in the stadium, one that fuels me from the inside out.
We’re the home team, which gives us the advantage of having the last at bat. I feel good as I jog out to third base, the leather encasing my left hand adding to the excitement pumping in my body.
I’ve never felt more at home than I do on a field with a glove on one hand and a ball in the other. My mind ventures to images of Camille’s body wrapped around mine, and that same feeling of home hits me.
Before I get to dwell on that notion, the umpire yells, “It’s time to play ball!”
As the opposing team’s batter sets up in the box, the cheers become deafening, our RLU fans really showing up today. Enough that by the fifth inning, we’re up by two runs and the opposing team has yet to score.
Aspen’s team is getting amped up, especially with their best hitter walking up to bat. I’m on the balls of my feet, ready to move any way possible in case it comes my way. The batter swings and misses on the first pitch, but on the second one, he crushes it to the far left, sending the ball into foul territory, right where Camille is sitting.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ryker
Time comes to a stop, and I watch in what feels like slow-motion the ball hit the top of the dugout and come right at her at full speed.
I scream her name to get her attention, but when she looks up, her eyes widen right before the ball hits her in the jaw.
Fuck.
Before I think it through, my legs are taking me toward her, sprinting and then jumping up and into the stands to get to her. There’s a crowd formed around her, but people part ways for me when I barrel my way through, telling them to get the hell out of the way.
I drop to my knees once I get to her. “Cami, baby, it’s Ryker,” I say softly. “Let me see.”
Camille’s eyes peek through her fingers. They’re filled with tears that’s breaking my fucking heart to see, but then I see her smile peeking through too.
My brows pinch inward. “Are you laughing?”
“Yes,” she says, the sound muffled by her hands. “Everyone is making such a fuss when I’m fine, only mortified.”
“Let me see, please,” I urge her, knowing my team is going to give me shit for going off the field, but I needed to check on her.
Camille’s hands fall away, showcasing the red marks on the right side of her jaw, along with a few scratches. The visual makes me want to fucking end that guy.
“I’m fine. Get back on the field.” She brushes me off with a smile.
My jaw tightens. “You’re not sitting here anymore. Come with me.”
She doesn’t argue and follows me down the stands. She waits as I hop the fence and lift her over it, eliciting a chorus of cheers from the crowd.
Fuck me.
I point to a spot on the bench in the dugout, and she sits, setting herself up there.
Coach Warren’s voice filters in through the chaos of the crowd. “You saved the girl, now go play some fucking baseball. The medic team will check on her.”
I nod curtly and jog back to the field, getting myself into position. It hits me then that when it came down to it, I chose to check on Camille instead of keeping my head in the game. I don’t like that one damn bit.
Baseball is the dream. It’s everything. I should be focused on it, not her.
That same hitter who fouled the ball that hit Camille sets back up and hits a fucking bullet of a ball, giving our outfielders a run for their money. He’s rounding second base when the center fielder whips it over to me. Judging by the speed of his throw and the guy running, it’s going to be close. I adjust my stance, putting one foot on the bag, and bend my knees for the ball that’s coming in low, just as the runner slides into me.
Somehow, I manage to make the catch, but the impact of being kicked in the leg causes me to fall off the bag, losing the potential out. Part of me wonders if he kicked me intentionally or he just slid the wrong way, but I already lost focus once tonight. I can’t lose my cool too.
The crowd’s boos echo around the stadium as the next batter comes up, taking a few practice swings outside the box.
