“Okay, baby,” Tessa yelled as Cory strutted to the plate. “You know what to do!”
“He’s a moose!” Seth commented. “Is he even human?”
Tessa grinned. “Mostly.”
On the second pitch Cory smacked the holy hell out of the ball for a homerun, sending Brax and the other guy over home plate. Again, we all cheered.
“Okay, here comes big brother,” Tessa said.
Cole hit a single, and after four more batters, the inning ended. We were up five to zip.
By the sixth inning the score was nine to two, Silverbacks. The crowd in the stands was ecstatic, and Brax was at his best. Pride filled me, and I was glad that my family was there to witness it. The day couldn’t have gone any better.
Brax made his way to the mound, picked up the chalk bag and tossed it a few times, then threw a few pitches to the catcher. The seventh inning began, and Brax fired his first pitch. It was then a muffled drone caught my ear, coming from the visitor’s side of the stands. Ignoring it, my attention was fast on Brax, the fluid motion of his athletic body, his perfect pitching form.
“Oh, hell,” Tessa murmured beside me. “Liv?”
“What?” I responded. I didn’t look at her. My eyes were glued to Brax.
Tessa’s elbow dug into my side. “Liv!”
“Tess, I swear—” I stopped, mid-sentence, as the drone caught my attention again. It’d grown louder, more distinct, and it made me look away from Brax, to the visitor’s section. I saw him then. Kelsy Evans, his buddies. And the words rose above the cheers of the Silverbacks fans.
Gutter-fuck. Gutter-fuck.
Realization punched me in the gut, and my eyes darted back to Brax. I knew the second he heard it, too. He’d just thrown a pitch—it’d no more left his hand when his head turned to find me.
And that’s when it happened.
The ball cracked against the bat as a line drive shot out of the batters box and straight for the mound.
The ball hit Brax in the temple as he searched the crowd, and he dropped so fast to the ground he looked like a rag doll.
My breath left my lungs and I leapt to my feet. “No!” I started down the bleachers as fast as I could move. From my peripheral I noticed my brothers moving, too. To the visitor’s side. My eyes stayed forward then, on Brax’s body. Unmoving. Still as death. I slammed into the fence by the dugout. Cory was already at the mound, kneeling beside Brax. He was quickly joined by the catcher. Soon all of the starters were hovering over him, and I couldn’t see anything except his cleats. No movement. My heart nearly stopped.
I tried to open the dugout, but I couldn’t budge it. Locked. “Let me in!” I yelled.
Mom and Tessa came to stand beside me, and Mom put her hand on my shoulder. “Back up, sweetie. EMS is here. He’ll be okay. He’ll be fine.”
Mom had to pull me back; I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Brax’s cleats. It was the only part of him I could see, and I wasn’t losing sight of him. Oh, God. Oh God! “Mom,” I said, frantic. My voice quivered. “That ball … it had to be going at least ninety.”
Mom stroked my hair. “I know, honey. I know. Just … wait.”
EMS quickly cleared the area, made the players back up as they brought a stretcher next to Brax’s body. Still, he didn’t move, not an inch. Not a breath. I strained my eyes, trying to see his chest move. I didn’t. Or couldn’t.
All because Brax heard that stupid chant, started by Kelsy Evans.
The crowd was silent as death now; you could hear a pin drop. The EMS guys hovered over Brax, but I couldn’t see a thing. My fingers squeezed the chain linked fence as I stared hard, and tears fell down my cheeks. I didn’t care. I could barely breathe.
It was the longest eleven minutes of my life. I held my breath for most of it. Behind me, I heard random people in low voices saying, Is he breathing? Is he going to be okay? I prayed with my eyes open, fixed on Brax’s motionless body. That was a hard hit. Straight to the temple. Jesus God, please be okay!
Suddenly, I saw it. His hand moved. On his own. Hope surged inside of me, and I wanted to crawl over that chain linked fence, drop to the other side and run like hell to that mound. EMS, with Brax’s body now strapped to the stretcher, raised it to full height. Then Brax’s arm lifted, higher than before, and he gave a thumbs-up.
The crowd roared.
Relief swept over me like a violent wave, and I exhaled my pent-up breath. Mom and Tessa hugged me. Suddenly, my brothers were behind me, too.
EMS didn’t move, though. One of the guys bent down, over Brax. Then he walked to the dugout. I saw then that Brax had a black neck brace on, and my nerves shot high.