Hitting to Win by Carrie Aarons

Author:Carrie Aarons [Aarons, Carrie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B014GC3RQG
Published: 2015-08-23T23:00:00+00:00

18

Miles

Sitting in the car, I feel dejected. Again.

I’d just left the swanky pet grooming store near Grover’s campus, and I knew by the look in the owner’s eyes that I was definitely not getting the job. I didn’t have anything besides a bunch of baseball awards on my résumé. Who the hell would hire me?

I rested my head against the back of the seat in my truck, thankful that it had been paid off and my father couldn't care less about this car. Over the past month, it was like a hurricane had waged wreckage through my life, and then ran back over it again.

But it was weird, I’d felt better than I had in years.

I’d started at the obvious place…by telling my father to fuck off. I would rather rake hot fucking coals all over my body than work for him. I’d started rationally in the conversation, trying to explain to him my dream of becoming the best hitter major league baseball had ever seen. He hadn’t taken it well.

In his usual brusque manner, he’d railroaded me, dismissing my dreams as a “child’s silly fantasy.” I’d lost it then. I told him I was done, I wasn’t working for the family business, and he could do with that information what he wanted. The last words I had ever heard from my father, because I really didn’t plan on ever talking to him again, were, “Your brother was a greater man than you’ll ever be.”

I agreed whole-heartedly. But I was going to live the rest of my life trying as hard as I fucking could to be as close to my brother’s greatness as I could.

The second thing I’d done was go to coach. We hadn't been especially close up to this point, with my aversion to authority and all that. But I'd gone in, tucked my tail between my legs, and told him the entire sordid story. If there was anyone who had the heart to help me out and steer me on a straight path, it was him. A former Army vet who'd come home and gotten into teaching, and then coaching, Coach Larry Kent was a hardass with a mushy center. He'd hand you your ass out on the field and then drive you home and make sure you locked the door before he left. He was a genuinely good guy. And I needed that kind of figure in my life right now.

After I'd spit out the entire story to him, getting teary on the parts about Jay, he'd gotten up, slapped me on the back, and said, "Son, thank you for coming in. I am going to do everything in my power to keep you here, at this school and on this team."

So that took care of tuition and my spot on the team. Hopefully. Coach still needed to come through with it, but I wasn't too worried about that. I knew we had scholarship kids on the team, and there was no way Grover was letting its best hitter walk off the field.

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