The Game Changer

by Megan Ryder

  It was often a lonely existence and he almost didn’t blame his mother for hyper-focusing on her kids, especially once Lindsey started showing promise in acting. It gave his mother something to do, a purpose. Unfortunately, it was the beginning of the end for their little family, with his father living his life and his mother and sister headed to California for acting.

  Savannah was not his mother. She had her own life, her own career, her own interests. She wouldn’t be looking for someone to define her, someone else to focus her life on. However, it was those same interests that could divide them, and those same issues that forced him to be cautious. If he had to leave, whether through a trade or new contract, she wouldn’t want to move. Her life was here while his was in a suitcase, not tied anywhere.

  Of course, he was completely jumping the gun here. They hadn’t made any promises to each other beyond dog sitting and one night of sex. Savannah shifted in his arms, a soft sound as she settled, and he stroked her hair out of her face, running a finger down her cheek.

  Damn, like Sadie, she had wormed her way under his skin, become a part of his life, a part he hadn’t known he had wanted or needed, but she was quickly becoming as vital as breathing to him. And that scared the hell out of him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dylan crouched behind the plate and put down two fingers and tapped the inside of his right thigh. Cody shook his head. He put the fingers down again, more insistently this time. The kid shook harder. Goddamn it. He thought they’d come to some sort of truce in the days since the cookout but, in this, Cody’s first start since that day, it was all back to square one.

  He thrust himself to his feet and yelled without looking at the umpire, “Time.”

  He stalked to the mound, waving off the infield and the coaches from the dugout.

  He got right in Patterson’s face, leaning in as close as he could. “What the fuck is your problem this time?”

  The kid picked up the rosin bag and fingered it and tossed it a couple of times, avoiding his gaze. “I don’t have the slider today. Let’s go with something else.”

  Dylan took a deep breath, trying not to swear. “It’s the first inning. You’ve thrown five pitches. You have no idea what you have. Throw the fucking slider.”

  “This guy’s been keyed on my slider.”

  Goddamn it. He was so tired of fighting this kid every time they pitched. They agreed on the game plan then on the field, they battled like World War Three.

  “Our scouting report says he’s been off since coming off the DL. Your fastball is jumping and the slider will catch him off guard. Just throw it.” He started to turn and head back to home plate.

  “No.” The word was flat, final.

  Dylan froze and slowly pivoted. “No?”

  “No. I want to throw the cutter.”

  Dylan closed his eyes and prayed for patience. At that moment, the umpire interrupted. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine.” Fucking awesome. Dylan looked at Cody. “You got it. Throw what you want.”

  He slammed the catcher’s mask on his face and stalked back to home plate and faced the smirking hitter, Sam Russell, one of his former teammates and rivals for catching spot. God, he hated his guy.

  “Problems in paradise, Professor? Told you that you’re not first string material. Should have stayed on the bench.” Russell stepped away and took a few practice swings then settled in for the next pitch.

  It almost killed Dylan, knowing Russell would have no problem with the cutter, knowing Patterson hadn’t set it up right, but he put the signal down and let the chips fall where they might. And they laid right over the right field porch. Damn it.

  Cody kicked the dirt and avoided looking at Dylan, and anyone really, while he cursed loudly and paced around the mound. Dylan glanced in the dugout and caught the pitching coach’s questioning eye. He shrugged and held up his glove for the new ball. He walked out to the mound and Cody turned, glaring at him.

  “I don’t need your shit.”

  Dylan slammed the ball in the other man’s glove. “You’re not ready to pull out the cutter. Is everything all right with you?”

  “Fine.” Cody bit off the words and punched his glove. “I’ve got this.”

  Dylan got in front of him. “We had a game plan. Follow it and we’ll be fine. If you don’t want to throw the slider, we won’t. Just trust me, okay?” Cody grumbled something and Dylan leaned in. “What did you say?”

  “I’ll do whatever you say, dad. Okay?”

  The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Dylan but he chose to ignore it and jogged back to home plate. The next several innings passed even worse than the first one, with Minnesota pounding Cody. In the fourth, bases were loaded and Minnesota was up by six runs. Cody pitched the cutter, against Dylan’s advice again, and it went deep, just shy of the warning track. Everyone froze on the bases, tagging in anticipation of trying to advance on the fly ball out. Dylan positioned himself to block the plate.

  The throw was strong but slightly off target, pulling him to the left, well off the plate. He lunged for it, seeing Sam Russell charging down the third base line for home. Cody was too late covering home so they had no chance getting Sam out. Dylan just wanted to make sure the ball didn’t get past him. He stretched his glove out to catch the throw, leaving the bag mostly open. But the runner veered, not to the right, avoiding Dylan but to the left, angling him right into a collision and Dylan was too unprotected to get out of the way in time.

  The heavier man slammed into him, throwing him from his feet, and back into the hard-packed dirt of home plate. And that was the last he knew.

  “Dylan? Are you with us, man?”

  Voices slowly penetrated the haze that fogged Dylan’s brain and he struggled to open the heavy eyelids, confused as to where he was and what happened. Bright lights shined between a circle of faces and he blinked rapidly, trying to understand what was going on.

  “What happened?” He tried to shift but someone held him down.

  “Don’t move, son. Not yet. Where do you hurt?”

  Questions were fired at him and he tried to focus but nothing seemed to get through the haze that clouded his mind. Finally, the trainer held up a hand.

  “Everyone, stop talking. Dylan, how many fingers am I holding up?”

  Dylan squinted but the effort hurt his head. “Three. I think. What happened?”

  “Fucking Russell took you out. Intentionally went after you. I’m going to nail him next time he comes to bat. I swear to God.”

  Alarm bells rang in his head and he flopped about, trying to get to his feet. “Shit, Patterson. Don’t hurt yourself.”

  A ghost of a smile crossed the trainer’s face. “He went after him and I thought I’d have a broken hand to deal with too. But the guys held him back. He’s fine.”

  Cody leaned in, looking offended. “I could take him, Prosser. Have some faith, man. I gotta look after my catcher.”

  Dylan laid back in the dirt. Fucking great. Now the kid cares.

  “Let’s get you off the field,” the trainer said.

  “I’m walking,” Dylan said, voice wavering a little but sounding better than earlier.

  “I got him.”

  Cody knelt and grasped him under the arm. The trainer nodded and grabbed him on the other side. Slowly, they hefted him to his feet and paused to let him catch his bearings. Nausea rose from his stomach and he thought he’d lose what little food he had all over home plate but he stuffed it down while the guys waited for his signal.

  “Let’s go.” His voice was raspy and weak and his legs felt like wet noodles but he’d be damned if anyone was carrying him off the field. He’d find a way to walk. The crowd that had been so silent roared their support and stood, cheering. He lifted his hand from Cody’s shoulder and waved an acknowledgment. Finally, they made it down the dugout steps and out of sight of the cameras and the crowd. A wheelchair waited and he gratefully sank into it and let them wheel him down to the locker room. One th
ought occurred to him and he grabbed Cody’s uniform sleeve.

  “Call Savannah. Tell her I’m okay.”

  The kid shot him a quizzical look but shrugged. “Got it. Never hard calling a hot lady like Savannah.”

  Dylan growled while Cody laughed and headed for his locker. Dylan climbed onto the training table and closed his eyes, shutting out the painful light and reducing the pounding pain for a short while, even as the staff kept prodding him awake.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cody stuck by his side into the training room and even to the hospital. By the time they were done poking and prodding him and the CAT scan had come back clear, it was morning. He walked out of the emergency room, wondering how he’d get back home.

  “Hey, all set?” Cody magically appeared by his side, looking tired and maybe even a bit worried.

  “Were you here all night?”

  Cody shrugged. “You’re my catcher. Besides, how were you going to get home?”

  “A cab?”

  Cody snorted. “My car’s out front. I’ll bring it around. Hang on.”

  Dylan sat on the bench outside the hospital and waited for Cody, bemused by the turn of events. Cody Patterson was the last person he had expected to see waiting for him at the hospital. He rested his head against the hard wooden back of the bench, wincing at the pain. God, he just wanted to sleep. Getting in the car with Patterson was not exactly high on his list of things to do with a concussion. The kid drove too fast and played music too loud. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. He was at Cody’s mercy and Dylan hated it.

  The fire engine red, stereotypical Corvette pulled up to the curb with a low purr, the loud bass from the radio absent. Before Cody could get out, Dylan stood and lowered himself into the passenger seat with a sigh. He laid his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, Cody was opening the passenger door and waking him up.

  The front door was flung open and Savannah stood in the doorway, worry etched on her face. Sadie darted out the door and raced across the front yard but Cody stopped her before she could jump on Dylan. She twisted in his grip but he held on tight. Dylan put his hands out and stopped her, holding her off him but petting her. He tried to lean down but the blood rushing to his head made the pain increase and he groaned.

  “Let’s head inside, buddy. You need rest.”

  Dylan stood but his legs wobbled, threatening to give out. Cody caught him just in time, helping him inside while Savannah hovered over them. Finally, he was seated on his couch, Sadie snuggled as close as she could possibly be and not be inside of him, whining occasionally as if she could feel his pain. He absently scratched her head, letting his eyes stay closed. Darkness was his friend right now. Even the dimmer light inside was painful.

  Savannah and Cody stood in the hallway, murmuring quietly and it irritated him. “I can hear you. Get out of here. I’ve got this.”

  Savannah snorted. “Sure you do. Stand up and take out Sadie.”

  He opened one eye and glared at her balefully. “She doesn’t need to go.”

  “What if something happens? Someone needs to stay with you, wake you up periodically for at least twenty-four to forty-eight hours.” Cody reminded him of the doctor’s orders.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll stay with him.” Savannah’s tone brooked no disagreement.

  Sadie was shooed off the furniture and Cody lifted his feet, swinging them onto the couch, removing his shoes in the process. Savannah’s light fingers smoothed a blanket over him and tucked a pillow under his head. Sadie nudged his hand with her nose and he dangled a hand so it rested on her lying next to him.

  Savannah brushed his forehead with her hand, lightly tracing the bruise on the side of his head. “I’ll get you some ice for that.”

  “I guess I’ll head out. See you in a few days.” Cody’s heavier steps headed for the door.

  Dylan opened his eyes. “Thanks, Cody. I appreciate it.”

  Cody turned, a hint of regret or something in his eyes. “No problem. I owed you.”

  Dylan narrowed his gaze but thinking, remembering hurt and he closed them again. “We’ll talk later.”

  The front door closed quietly and Dylan let his muscles relax in increments for the first time since he’d been injured. Pain still played a heavy metal beat in his head and the rest of his body felt like a herd of wild buffalo had run roughshod over him, twice, but the couch was soft and he drifted off to sleep.

  Savannah stood in the doorway of the living room, ice forgotten in her hand, as she studied the man stretched out on the couch. His jaw was clenched as if against remembered pain and his whole body was rigid, stiff. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, trying to expand her chest past the tight band of ice that had encased her since last night when she saw the horrific collision on television. She had clutched Sadie so hard, the dog had yelped but, somehow, she had sensed that something was wrong and crawled into Savannah’s lap, warming her chilled body and licking her, soothing her soul. Thank goodness Cody had thought to call her from the hospital and give her an update, or she would have worried all night.

  She crossed the room and laid the ice pack gently on the side of his head where a nasty lump had formed. He grumbled in his sleep and shifted. She allowed herself this moment to run her fingers through his chocolate brown hair, longer than he usually kept it, feeling the soft silky strands caress her fingers. She stroked the side of his face, hands gentle and soothing, smoothing away the lines of pain. Slowly, incrementally, his muscles relaxed, an almost imperceptible loosening of the tension in his body. His breathing became more regular and even, and his body didn’t resemble the stiff board it had when he had first laid down.

  She gave Sadie a quick pat on the head. “Keep an eye on him, girl. He needs you.”

  Sadie gave her hand a quick lick and Savannah headed to the other room, blinking back tears. Dylan had become so important to her in such a short time. Somehow, he had wormed his way into her life, making himself a vital part of her world. What would she do if anything had happened to him?

  His cell rang, a shrill sound, echoing in the silence, and she ran into the living room to snatch it before he could stir. She took it into the kitchen and opened it.

  “Hello?” she asked tentatively.

  “Dylan? Are you okay?” A young woman’s voice sounded frantic, then turned suspicious. “You’re not Dylan.”

  “He’s sleeping right now. Who is this?” She glanced at the phone display and the name Lindsey. Shit.

  “I’m his sister, Lindsey. Who are you?”

  “I’m Savannah Monroe. I help your brother with his dog.”

  “Oh, he kept her!” The squeal almost shattered Savannah’s eardrums. “I’m so glad. He needs something other than baseball. So why are you answering his phone?”

  “He’s sleeping and I didn’t want him disturbed. I probably should have let it ring in another room.”

  “No, no. You should definitely answer it. Mom or Dad might be calling and he really doesn’t want to be talking to them. Dad will only yell at him for not watching his back better and Mom will make noise about how she should be out there taking care of him but we both know she doesn’t really mean it. No, you need to run interference. Dylan will freak if either one show up. I assume you’re staying there, taking care of him.”

  The tone demanded her instant obedience and Savannah saw immediately how Lindsey always had gotten her way. This was no television star, spoiled and pampered, but a young woman who had a will of iron and just needed a place to direct it. God help the world if she ever found a focus. For now, her brother needed her and she was in full-on mama bear mode.

  Savannah grinned. “Yes, I’ll be staying here until he’s better.”

  “Good.” Lindsey heaved a sigh of relief. “Okay, here’s the rundown. He’s like a cranky bear without his winter nap and honey when he gets injured. I don’t think anyone has ever really taken care of him before so this will be interesting. Don’t let him put
you off. Just ignore him and do what you need to do. He can be a real pain.”

  Savannah smothered a smile. “Why are you giving me this advice? Maybe I’m a bimbo, out to steal his money.”

  Lindsey laughed. “Bimbos wouldn’t hang around when he’s sick or take care of a sick dog. Keep me updated. Use your phone so he doesn’t know you’re talking to me. And run interference. Trust me. He’ll thank you for it. And our parents can be real jerks so stick firm. I’ll try to get to them first.”

  They exchanged phone numbers and Savannah turned off the phone. A noise from the doorway had her turning. Dylan leaned against the door jamb, slightly swaying. “Who was that?”

  Savannah held out the phone. “It was your sister. I didn’t want to wake you. Sorry.”

  He stared at the phone at if it were a diamondback rattlesnake and shuddered. “I don’t think I could take it right now. Just ignore it. Do you have any aspirin?”

  She grabbed the instructions. “You can have acetaminophen not aspirin. I think I have some in my purse but I’ll have to go out. What would you want to eat?”

  His face looked distinctly green at the thought of food. “Nothing. Just something to stop this head from pounding.” She handed him two pills and a glass of water. He quickly swallowed them and glanced at her, face closed off. “You can head out now. I’ve got this.”

  “So you’ve said,” she replied coolly, Lindsey’s words repeating in her head. “I think I’ll hang around and make sure Sadie is okay. You need dog food anyway. Go lay down and I’ll head to the store.”

  “I’ll get you money.” He reached for his pocket and cursed. “Damn, everything is at the stadium.”

  She planted her fists on her hips. “Do you think I need your money? Get your butt back on the couch and get some rest. Now.”