Lynch motions a call and I mindlessly shake them off until Mac repeats the mocking encouragement to make Cash Barlowe proud. I don’t bother with a nod to Lynch because I don’t give a flying fuck what pitch he called. I have one target and it’s shutting up the bastard who’s mocking words are pulling out every vile memory that Cash Barlowe planted in my soul. When the ball releases from my hand, it misses Mac’s head by inches as he ducks, dodging the pitch that would’ve hit him in the mouth if he hadn’t anticipated the move.
Mac got the rise out of me that he wanted. Throwing his bat to the dirt, he heads my way. Lynch moves in front of him with a hand to his chest, he’s a good dude trying to fight the good fight. But it won’t stop this from happening. In my periphery, I note the benches clearing and the players rushing onto the field as I head straight for Mac.
I can’t take out my anger on the one who deserves it, but Mac has had it coming. He shoves past Lynch, charging the mound, and I meet him halfway. Swinging my fist, I connect with his jaw. It should make me feel better. I figured it’d make me feel better, but all it does is haul up the recollection of when my knuckles last connected with another face—Cash Barlowe’s when I’d finally gotten big enough to defend my mother after he went after her.
A swarm of bodies surrounds us, pulling me back as I fight to get free. But I don’t want to get to Mac any longer. I want to get to my father and rip his head off, because whether Avery willingly engaged in the game he’s playing or not, Cash Barlowe just unleashed a murderous rage in me that I’ve never felt before.
33
AVERY
I don’t know what the hell is going on. The field has erupted into full-blown pandemonium. But that’s not what has my head spinning, it’s the man standing next to me, shaking his head in disappointment as we watch Carter be hauled off the field.
Cash leans over and I instantly shift away. Bodie is so starstruck that he fails to pick up on my vibe. The one that says Stay the hell away from Cash Barlowe. That’s why Carter looked so surprised to see me. Cash was the C in C.B., not Carter. It makes perfect sense. Because I know Carter would never want his father here.
The crowd settles a bit as the players slowly make their way off the field while the umpires are gathered near first base. But the only person I want to see has disappeared out of sight. “I need to check on Carter.”
Bodie gives me a crazy look as Cash motions for us to exit the row. “I’ll show you where he is.”
“No, that’s all right.”
“Avery,” Bodie moves in front of me, allowing Cash to walk past. “Lead the way.”
Why do I feel like I’m following a demon to my doom? But if he can get me to Carter, I’ll go along while trying to keep my distance. Bodie is all but skipping alongside Cash as we walk down a small corridor. We come to a door and Cash punches numbers on a keypad, then holds the door open as Bodie and I slip inside before he follows.
It doesn’t take long before I know I’ve found Carter. His shouting and cursing can be heard before I see him. When I finally do see him, his face is twisted in anger and increases tenfold when his eyes meet mine. In this second, I know showing up at the game today was a graver mistake than I ever could’ve envisioned. His livid glare darts to the man he hates most, standing beside me.
“Carter, please.” I didn’t realize until I begin to step towards him that the teammates on either side of him are holding him back. Physically restraining him. He looks feral, nearly out of control in that moment with his wild eyes and heaving chest. His hands sling around in the arms of the players shoving him back as he fights to get past them.
“What the fuck were you thinking? Did he put you up to it? Did he get you to do it?” he yells at me. Everyone else in the room is confused by his rant at me. But I don’t pretend to misunderstand. He’s accusing me of being in cahoots with Cash. And he’s enraged. At me.
Carter focuses on his father. “Was this your plan all along? Was she your doing?”
I’m stunned that this, out of all scenarios, is the conclusion he’s landed on. But the fury on his face, the rabid ire in his eyes, has transformed him. The man I never would’ve thought capable of causing me to flinch has me practically cowering. I’ve literally backed away from him slowly, but when his rage-filled eyes snap back to me, my ass hits a solid wall behind me as he rushes at me.
His body goes rigid as he halts his movements, his eyes on me as his chest rises and falls quickly. I don’t move; fear has frozen me in place. Logically, I know it’s about his dad. But right now, he thinks everyone in this room is against him, and all of the faces bear various expressions of confusion and worry over being on the receiving end of his lashing.