Hitching the Pitcher by Rebecca Connolly & Sophia Summers & Heather B. Moore

Author:Rebecca Connolly & Sophia Summers & Heather B. Moore [Connolly, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: contemporary romance, Christian romance, clean and wholesome romance, women's fiction, romantic comedy, sports romance
Publisher: Mirror Press
Published: 2019-02-05T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

“Wait, why is Sawyer in? He’s supposed to be off today! Isn’t Adam pitching?”

“He is, yep. Don’t worry. Sarge apparently likes to mix things up. Since it’s preseason, Mace says he wants to keep their legs going, even if the arms are getting a break.”

Erica looked at Jess Benjamin, her new best friend, sitting beside her, wearing a ladies’ version of her husband’s jersey. “But left field?”

Jess grinned with her perfect teeth, her long auburn hair hanging in a ponytail through the back of her cap. “Sawyer’s a good athlete. He can do it.”

“I know he can do it,” Erica pointed out, shaking her head as she looked back out onto the field where her boyfriend was now standing. “But it doesn’t necessarily mean that he should.”

“True!” Jess laughed. She patted Erica’s shoulder. “Don’t worry; Sarge wouldn’t put him in unless he was confident, and Damien wouldn’t have let Sarge put him in if he thought Sawyer needed more rest.”

Erica nodded without really answering. She supposed that was true, from what she had heard of Damien, the pitching coach. He tended to be fairly protective of his guys even if Sarge wanted them.

If both of them thought Sawyer could handle left field…

She gasped as a ball popped high towards left field, and she clenched her fists and her teeth. “Come on, baby, come on…” she hissed, tracking the distance between the ball and Sawyer’s glove.

He caught it easily, and the jumbotron showed his broad, crooked grin as he threw the ball to Farrabee. The dugout and bullpen whooped and hollered, and Sawyer blew them a kiss.

“Someone is pleased with himself,” Jess said with a hearty laugh as she applauded.

“Idiot,” Erica muttered, sitting back hard against her seat. “Only two more outs and one more inning to go.”

Jess patted her again. “He won’t keep him in the whole game. And look, Sawyer’s better than a youth-league player. Even he can catch a fly ball. I promise, he’s fine.”

Unless something goes wrong, Erica thought to herself.

If there was one thing she knew about Sawyer Bennett it was that as hard as he trained, it was never good enough. He held himself to incredibly strenuous standards, and any error on his part would lead to hours of regret and blame, which would lead to even more hours of increased training.

If he ever felt that he was letting his team down, he would spiral so quickly it would be next to impossible to reason with him.

“Skeeter’s a headcase,” Levi Cox had told her back in their Belltown days, when she had been their tutor. “You get used to it.”

She’d thought that was simply a teasing remark from a friend, but it turned out to be true. Sawyer was overanalytical, overcommitted, and underequipped with appropriate coping mechanisms for the results of his overanalyzing and overcommitting. She’d considered sports psychology as a major after seeing Sawyer’s struggles firsthand, but she’d decided— probably for the best—to leave that world to others with less emotional ties.

As she

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