Wild Card by Ashley Munoz

Chapter Four

“You coming home this weekend?”my little brother Kyle asked, sounding a little too hopeful for my liking.

I knew my sixteen-year-old brother liked when I was home, mostly because it distracted my mom from wherever it was he was sneaking off to.

“I’m planning on it. I have something tonight, but tomorrow I’ll be there.” I grabbed the tennis ball my boss kept on his desk and squeezed it. He kept it around so he could bounce it off the wall while he made orders and bullshitted vendors about prices, but I always grabbed it when I needed to release some stress. It seemed to work better than the calming breaths Marcus still swore by.

I hated the texture. It wasn’t leather, it wasn’t the right size or weight…I twisted my hand, seeing the scar that ran down the back from my pinky to my wrist. The surgeon had done a shit job on it, leaving the raised flesh looking more like the threading on a baseball than skin.

Frankenstein.That was the name my teammates called me when they wanted to be dicks. I could still grip a ball, but I couldn’t throw like I used to. I’d been going to physical therapy appointments for half the year, working to get the functionality back in it. For the time being, I supported the team, stepped up to bat, played an outfield position…but that was basically it. Elias ruled the team, was now the starting and prized pitcher of the Devils…and I didn’t give a fuck. I had plans for the asshole.

I blinked, focusing on the conversation.

“Just…don’t do that thing where you talk to her about the house. She hates when you bring it up,” Kyle cautioned.

Yeah, I already knew my mom was over me talking about selling the house, but she couldn’t afford the mortgage and I worried about her. I was so close to dropping out of school and moving back to help them out. I thought maybe I should…thought maybe it was what my dad would have wanted.

No matter what, stick it out, Dugger. Just stay at it and finish well.

“Yeah, I know,” I muttered in response.

“’Kay, well, I gotta go. You still want me to do that thing tonight, right?”

Shit.I was such an idiot for asking this of him, but… “Yeah, be careful. He can’t get seriously hurt.” My words were tight, careful. Incriminating.

“I know. Not my first job, bro.”

I let out a heavy sigh, wishing I was letting out a lungful of smoke. “Don’t fucking tell me that, Kyle. Don’t do that to Mom.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t run anything when you were my age. I read the walls in the school locker room—Decker ‘Dugger’ James is written all over those fucking things.” He laughed, and it loosened something in my chest.

I missed him.

I thought of his light green eyes that were like mine, but different. His lighter hair matched our mother’s, and he was tall but still gangly. He was good though. Deep down, he was good. Better than me. The thought of him running deals or fixing races made my skin crawl.

“Yeah, well maybe Scotty should just handle it.”

My little brother scoffed. “Scotty would kill him.”

That was true. I let out a heavy sigh.

“Okay, just be careful.”

“Will do, see you tomorrow,” he signed off and hung up.

I squeezed the tennis ball a few more times before grabbing my apron and returning to my shift.