Kia Ora... Updates and Switch Hitters - Chapter Four

Dec 03, 2022 8:00 am

Welcome to Greertown

Kia Ora....

December has arrived far too fast... and I'm so not ready for it.

Not for the selling of my house...

Not for the stress that comes with dealing with lawyers...

Not for the shifting to the other end of New Zealand...

And yet, I'm also looking forward to the next stage in my life... and the longer summer nights!

Updates

Naomi Aoki

Devotion (Nagoya Crimes 3) will be the first book I focus on in the new year.

Mandy Greenwood

Make sure you grab a copy of O Deadly Night: MM Dark Charity Anthology... and support a great cause! Now currently in KU for a limited time.
I know I promised to get the paperbacks for The Moutrams series organised and I haven't got there yet...sorry!! It will be the next thing I do once I have a few minutes of free time.

MJ Green

Working on a bonus short story for the House of Bolton series that I will release closer to Christmas involving Ryland and Lucas.
Until Death (House of Bolton Prequel) is sitting at 42k and heading into the final arc of the story. Hopefully, Alberto and Gio will be happy to have their book finished at 50k-ish words with an extra bonus novella of about 10k for "that" scene (if you've read at least Rough Sketches you'll understand) available to download.

Running For Home (Switch Hitters 1)

Chapter Four

A loud rap of knuckles on his door dragged Mike out of the half-dazed state he now spent his days inhabiting. Hauling himself off the couch, he stumbled toward the door while the person on the other side of the door continued to knock. “Coming…coming,” he yelled, wincing as his knee protested loudly at being forced to move quickly after Mike had been inactive for the last half hour…or more. Nights spent huddled on the couch wrapped in blankets instead of his sleeping on his expensive orthopedic mattress didn’t help either.

He huffed out another frustrated curse and threw open the door not at all surprised to find Hunter on the other side of it. The disappointment that surged through him at finding it wasn’t Jordan standing there…that was a surprise, and Mike wasn’t sure if it was a welcome one. But Hunter… no, Mike had expected his best friend to show up at some point considering the number of messages Hunter had flooded his phone with. Messages Mike had ignored, too tired to deal with the man’s questions or his continual demands for Mike to talk with Jordan. Yet as frustrating as his friend’s appearance on his doorstep was, Mike knew it was because Hunter feared Mike was pushing him away again despite having promised he wouldn’t. And he barely had the energy to manage his own emotions, let alone worry about how his actions affected someone else.

“Morning,” he greeted Hunter, stepping to the side as he held the door of the apartment wide-open.

“Morning? You do realise it’s almost midday, right?” Hunter replied, stepping into the apartment, and heaving a sigh at its messy state.

Mike shrugged his shoulders and closed the door. Time was irrelevant when days bled into the next without sleep to break them into defined chunks. He was lucky if he slept for longer than an hour before the nightmares struck…and worse, exhaustion had seen them begin to haunt his days as well.

Hunter turned to face him, concern, and then guilt flickered through his eyes as he took in Mike’s tired, dishevelled state. “You aren’t sleeping, are you?”

“Yeah…something like that,” Mike replied nonchalantly. Fatigue, pain, and limited mobility were normal for him at this point…some days were better, and others were much worse.

“Nightmares?”

Mike stared at Hunter, confused by the question or why his friend was even asking it. No one outside of the counsellor he’d seen in the first few weeks after his injury knew about them. Not even Jordan…because Mike had gone to great lengths to conceal the emotional toll of his injury from his husband.

“What nightmares?” he replied cagily.

“So…you have been having them again.” Hunter cocked his eyebrow and glared at him. “And there’s no point in denying it.”

His shoulder’s slumped and a defeated sigh slipped from Mike’s lips. “How do you know about them.”

“Jordan.” Hunter replied bluntly. “He mentioned it once after you’d disappeared… how he’d often wake during the night and hear you cry.” He took a deep breath and dropped onto the couch, propping his legs up on the coffee table. “Besides…anyone could guess from simply looking at you that you aren’t sleeping. You’ve got fucking bags under your eyes that could hide and entire bloody house.”

Mike slumped onto the couch, a defeated sigh escaping his lips. When the nightmares had first started he’d tried desperately to not let Jordan learn of them. He hadn’t wanted his husband to lose sleep worrying about them when Jordan still had games to play. To learn now that his attempts had failed… it only gave more credence to the dark thoughts filling his head.

“But you’re not here to discuss my sleeping habits?” he asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from his exhausted state.

“No. But we will talk about it, Mike,” Hunter said, glancing at him. “I thought you might want to hear about Jordan. He got his shoulder checked like you suggested.” He continued on as though Mike hadn’t tensed up beside him at the mention of Jordan’s name.

Relief surged through his veins as Mike realised Hunter wasn’t here to harp on about him talking to Jordan face-to-face. Pleased him to that despite the hurt he’d caused Jordan his husband still trusted his judgement. “Good…good. What’s the prognosis?”

“At minimum he’s been benched from training and games for the next two weeks and will require the specialists clearance before he can resume normal activities even after that two weeks is up.”

Two weeks wasn’t long, not when Mike would’ve made Jordan sit out games for three weeks, all pitching based training for two, and pushed him to work on his cardio/stamina training which he knew for a fact Jordan was loathed to do. But then again, Mike was only an ex-catcher…he wasn’t a member of the coaching staff or the team’s doctor.

“Oh… and get this… Jordan said team management sacked their pitching coach and his staff.

“About fucking time, they sacked him,” Mike muttered not hiding his disdain for the Switch Hitters’ now former pitching coach. “I’d bet that it was his fault that Jordan hadn’t been rested sooner…no doubt he also argued that the stiffness Jordan was suffering was nothing and he was more than capable of playing on… risking Jordan’s damn career.”

He’d complained about the pitching coach several times to upper management when he’d still been a part of the team. Pointed out over and over again how the man’s attitude and approach to training was antiquated, reckless, and was focused more on the team winning rather than the health of the players. Hell, he’d argued with the bastard more than once in the middle of the bullpen during practice after the damn man had tried to force a pitcher to train despite their showing signs of muscle fatigue and strain. Mike had even taken his concerns to the Head Coach, Emmet Fisher, who at least had listened to him, shared his worries but also admitted his hands were tied if management were refusing to sack him.

“Jordan didn’t mention my name. When he was talking about his shoulder, did he?”

Hunter raised an eyebrow and gave a smug smile. “You’d have to ask Jordan about that.”

Mike sighed and scrubbed at his face. “What about the reasons for sacking the pitching coach? They’ve never showed any interest in doing so in the past.”

“Again… you’ll have to ask Jordan if you want those details. But honestly, I don’t think they could ignore the man’s refusal to accept that Jordan was at high risk of a serious shoulder injury even after the specialists report came back…the head coach backed Jordan up to in getting his shoulder looked at.”

“Emmet…he’s a good man. Good coach. Really cares about his players. He wouldn’t want to risk an injury to Jordan this early in the season.”

“And okay…maybe Jordan might’ve mentioned your name because I doubt the head coach would’ve suggested that you’d be the perfect replacement pitching coach otherwise.”

Mike clenched his fists tight and pressed them into the cushions of the couch as he tried to hide how badly they’d begun shaking. “Jordan… fuck… that’s… I don’t think I could do that.”

“Don’t force yourself,” Hunter quickly told him. “At least not regarding the job, though I do think you should consider it, but”—running a hand through his hair and scratching the back of his neck before releasing a heavy sigh— “job offer aside… you are intending to work things out with my brother, aren’t you?”

“I-I don’t know,” Mike replied shakily. “I don’t deserve to after what I did… he should just sign the divorce papers and then forget about me”

“You’re right, you don’t deserve him,” Hunter hissed. “And if you’d been anyone else then I wouldn’t be here talking about it… instead I would be urging him to sign those papers too. But he refuses to give up on you, Mike. Refuses to believe that your marriage can’t be saved. Talk to him, Mike…it doesn’t need to become a promise for something more, but at least could you try to do that…talk that is.”

Mike didn’t want to make a promise he couldn’t keep, but he couldn’t ignore the desperate, pleading tone of his friend’s voice and he nodded his assent.