Page 9 of Third Strike Smitten

Shepherd steps into the room fully now, leaning against the wall. “Maybe that’s your problem. You’re putting too much weight on each pitch instead of seeing the bigger picture.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter. “You’re not the one whose entire career hangs on whether you can⁠—”

“Throw a ball exactly where I want it to go, so it lands in the right person’s hands every single time?” he finishes my sentence for me. “Trust me, man. If there’s any one of us here that gets it, I think it’s me.”

He’s right. Shep is the starting quarterback for the Portland Rush. If anyone knows a thing or two about leadership on the field and what to do with the ball, it’s him.

“You’re right,” I admit. “Sorry man.”

“I’m just saying everyone carries a different pressure when you’re on the field. Batters worry about striking out, and look how many do all the fucking time. The guys behind you have to worry about catching balls too. They have to catch like Bishop and throw like you. Anything else is failure for them. They’re just not as front and center as you are.”

Sebastian appears from the hallway, his face concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Just Killian’s existential crisis about pitching,” Bishop explains.

He nods, his sympathetic eyes finding mine. “Well, I don’t have any skin in this game because I’m not the one on the field like you guys are but it’s no secret that your anxiety is getting worse the farther into the season you go. Maybe you need to find something to help turn off your brain. You’re overthinking everything out there.”

“Like Shep and his woodshop,” Hop says.

“So, what, you think I should learn how to knit or something in all my spare time?”

My brothers look at each other and nod before Seb rubs his arms and says, “I mean I could use a new afghan or two so…”

That gets me to smile but I flip him off for good measure. “Fuck off, Bro.”

“You could get rip-roaring drunk and spend a night in front of a karaoke machine,” Shep suggests. “God knows how much you love your karaoke.”

I smirk because it’s true. I do love me some karaoke when the moment strikes. I always go for the ridiculous songs that I know I’ll sound terrible singing. If nothing else, I’m good for a laugh. Everyone knows that.

“I can’t get that drunk with our schedule. That’s for the off-season.”

“How about getting laid then?” A female voice comes from the doorway and I turn to see Sutton standing next to Sebastian. There’s no denying that since she appeared in Shepherd’s life, he’s become a better man. Not that he’s ever been a bad guy but he seems more at peace with the world around him when she’s nearby.

“You offering?” I raise my brow toward my future sister-in-law.

“You can fuck the hell off with a question like that, asshole,” Shepherd says with a laugh.

“Sorry, Kill,” Sutton says with a quick shrug. “Piercings aren’t my thing.”

My jaw flies open and I stare at her in disbelief. “Wait. How did you⁠—”

She grins. “People talk, Kill.”

“Like who?”

“How about you?” She laughs. “There are no secrets around the poker table and you definitely have no filter when you’re drinking.” She winks at me and for the first time I actually feel a tinge of embarrassment. My cheeks flush and I bring my hand up to rub the back of my neck.

“Yeah, sorry about that, Sutton.”

“Doesn’t bother me and there’s no judgement here. I used to hear a lot worse at the bar.”

Shepherd met the love of his life when we walked into the Alley Tap, one of our favorite dive bars, and overheard Sutton ranting about pro athletes and how they basically get paid millions to wear expensive pants and throw balls.

She’s right on all accounts. We’re lucky assholes and we don’t deny it.

“I’m just saying I haven’t seen you with a woman since I met Shep.” She lifts her shoulder. “Maybe you should consider finding a girl to hook up with. Someone to get your mind off baseball…even if it’s just for some casual sex."

“That might be nice, but it’s not like I have that kind of time. We’re on the road more often than not.”