That’s when I lost my battle with the tears, and cried my way through the rest of the ceremony.
The moment that the preacher said, “You may now kiss the bride,” Tobias did.
And my heart was so full it was near to bursting.
“I love you, Toaby-Tobe.”
He snorted. “I love you, too.”
Then he picked me up, T-Rex costume and all, and ran with me out of the barn.
“Where are we going?” I gasped.
His grin was sly.
“I’ve never fucked a T-Rex before.”
What’s Next?
Pitch Please
9-8-17
Chapter 1
Hockey gives me a zamboner.
-Text from Rainie to Sway
Hancock
Season opener at home
Texas Lumberjacks v. Michigan Marauders
“You’re in my seat,” I said to the beautiful woman. “Get up.”
That beautiful woman, with her long brown hair and her nose stuck in the book she was currently reading, tilted her head up with a startled look that began to tug at my heartstrings before she even opened her pretty mouth.
I couldn’t give in to it, though. She was in my seat. I had to sit there.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, grabbing her bag and scooting over like I’d grabbed her by her hair and physically yanked her out of my spot.
I hadn’t done that, of course. Not that I wouldn’t want to wrap my hand around her luscious, long locks and kiss the fuck out of her startled mouth.
“Parts,” someone called.
I turned to find our starting pitcher, and my best friend, Connor Sorbet, staring at me like I’d grown a second head.
“What?” I snapped, wondering just what in the hell his problem was.
His mouth twitched, and I sighed.
“What?” I repeated, this time a little friendlier than the time before it.
The chick was fucking with my routine.
I was a superstitious guy. So, sue me.
I had to have my seat.
“I’m sorry,” the woman whispered hastily as she resettled herself way away from her previous seat. “I didn’t know it was taken.”
“That one is taken, too,” I muttered. “Brakes sits there.”
She stood, this time upending her book onto the floor as she did.
I reached down and plucked it out of the spent sunflower seeds, handing it to her as I got a good look at the cover.
“You like baseball?” I asked teasingly, taking in the title of the book, Baseball for Dummies.
She blushed a harsh shade of red, and I immediately felt bad for teasing her.
The next minute, though, she yanked it out of my hand and turned to face forward, not looking back at me again.
Grinning like the shithead I was, I walked over to Connor, AKA Brakes, and held my hand out for the paint.
“That’s number thirty-nine’s sister.” Connor said. “The short stop on the other team.”
“Really?” I asked in surprise. “Kid was a fuckin draft pick, right? Golden Glove.”
Connor nodded, and I swiped two stripes of paint. First under the right eye, second under the left.
Connor took the paint and followed suit, only he did his left first, then the right.
It was always like that.
Baseball was a superstitious game. It was rare that we ever deviated from our routine.
“Why’s she not their AT, then?” I asked.
Connor shook his head and tossed the paint down into the stack of shit on the ground underneath his seat.
“Not a fucking clue. Girl’s hot, though. I love that she’s our athletic trainer.”
I agreed with that. One hundred and sixty-nine percent.
She was thick and curvy, in all the right places, and I wanted to wrap my arms around her and kiss the hell out of her.
Crazy enough, I didn’t think she’d be receptive to that.
Not yet, anyway.
She had on a Longview Lumberjacks team shirt, the tight khaki shorts that all the trainers wore, and a fucking ribbon in her hair.
She looked like my high school wet dream come true.
“You ready to warm up?” Connor asked.
I nodded my head and started up the steps of the dugout, picking my bat up along the way.
I hefted it in my hands, tightening my grip around the wood, and breathed deeply.
“You first,” Connor nodded his head.
I walked ahead of him to the plate, nodding at the coach.
The coach nodded back, and I took my place at the plate.
Once I was there, I dropped the bat onto the plate so it rested against my thigh, put my gloves on, and pulled my pants up above my calves.
Routines.
All of it routine.
Once everything was perfectly in place, I fixed my hat, picked my bat up, tapped it six times on the plate, and lifted it to my shoulder.
Hail No
Book 1 of The Hail Raisers Series
9-29-17
Prologue
I really am pleasant to be around as long as I’m not hot, tired, hungry, cold, thirsty, or itchy. Possibly if I can’t find my phone, or I’m uncomfortable in any way.
-Evander to his employer
Evander
“Evander Lennox?”
I stood up, hating the way my knees creaked and popped.
I’d been in the military for seven years, then had worked for Hail for five more. It took spending four years in the pen, though, for me to start feeling fucking old.
I guess getting jumped in the dark would do that to a person.
“Hurry up, I don’t have all day.”
I gritted my teeth, but kept my pace deliberately slow.
Fuck him.
The parole officer, my parole officer, sent me a glare the moment I got to him.
“I don’t need your bad attitude. I have your file in my office and I’ve spent the morning going over it. There won’t be any ‘accidents’ while you’re under my supervision, got it?”
The accidents he was referring to weren’t accidents. I’d never said they were accidents.
In fact, I made sure to tell the guards exactly what had happened each time I’d had to use my hands to defend myself.
I was just lucky that the guards liked me and lied when they went to write their reports.
“Yes, Sir,” I found myself choking out.
I wanted to call this man ‘Sir’ about as much as I wanted to take a shit in a plastic bag and carry it around in my pocket.
Thirty minutes later, I was leaving his office with a slew of rules that I now had to follow, as well as some regulations I wasn’t aware that would be required of me.
Needless to say, as I made my way home—walking, might I add—I wasn’t in a good mood.
Not at fucking all.
***
I ripped the sheet off of the couch, and coughed when a cloud of dust filled the still, stagnant air around me.
“Fuck,” I gasped, waving my hand in front of my face to clear the air.
It didn’t work, but at least I’d given it the good old college try.
No one had been in here since I’d gone to prison. Not my mom. Not my dad—not that he even knew I’d gone to prison since I hadn’t seen him in years, and that was before I’d done time. Not even my sister had bothered to come in here and clean up. Though, that didn’t surprise me much. Every single one of my family members were selfish. I doubted cleaning my place up for me had even crossed their minds.