Trent Read online

  * * * *

  Trent

  Season 2 of

  The Ninth Inning Series

  Copyright © 2015 by Lindsay Paige and Mary Smith

  Smashwords Edition

  ISBN-13: 9781310643286

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Smashwords Edition License Notes

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  About the Authors

  TODAY IS THE day. Yes, I’m doing it. I give myself a pep talk as I slowly stroll on the treadmill and stare at the back of his head. He’s been running for an hour and I know he’s about to head over to the stretch center before he leaves.

  Good Lord, I sound like a stalker. Wait, isn’t that what I am? I’ve been watching Trent Baker for almost five months. The first time I saw him, I almost passed out. I knew who he was the instant our eyes connected. My heart broke when I saw the sadness still lingering in his eyes. For a second, I thought he might know who I am, but his face showed no recognition.

  Now, I’m stalking him.

  He clicks off the treadmill and walks over to the stretching center. I take a deep breath and click my machine off to follow him. I’m thankful the gym is almost empty because this could be bad. I put on my brave face and walk up to him.

  “Hi,” I blurt out, louder than I mean to.

  He scowls for a second and then nods. “Hello.”

  “I’m Scarlett,” I firmly state.

  “Nice to meet you, Scarlett.” He isn’t finished stretching, but he turns to leave.

  Good Lord, come on, Scarlett. I rush over and cut off his path. He stutters in his steps for a second. “I’m sorry. I’m not being rude, but I need to say I’m sorry. You have to hear it from me.” There. I said it.

  “You’re sorry?” he questions, looking confused.

  “For your loss. I’m sorry you and your daughter went through such a horrible tragedy.”

  He hangs his head for a moment, and then he looks back up to me. “Thank you for your condolences.”

  “I don’t have any more words.” Oh, good, Scarlett, way to sound like a crazy person. “I’m saying I don’t have any words of advice for you. Your wife’s...murder...affected a lot of people.” Trent stands there, staring at me as if I’ve lost my mind. I think that maybe I have lost it. “That’s all I wanted to say. I’m sure you’ve heard it from everyone, but please remember I’m truly sorry.”

  Don’t lose it, Scarlett. Hold it together for one more moment.

  “Thank you.” He nods and brushes past me as he heads to the men’s locker room.

  I did it. I told him I’m sorry. A huge burden lifts off my chest and I move toward the women’s locker room.

  Once I’m home, I feel more relaxed. I flip on the lights and my house illuminates. I love my house. I worked hard to make it my own. I had the world’s worst childhood, and I’m not going down the same road in my adult life. I sit on my couch with my head in my hands.

  For five months, I’ve wanted to talk to him and now I’m not sure I should have.

  No, I should have. He needs to hear how sorry I am even if he doesn't know who I am or why I'm so sorry.

  I lift my head and see the newspaper articles, along with family photos, on the coffee table. Dominic’s lawyer had asked for the photos to show how Dominic was before the drugs took over. I didn’t have many because our shitty mother wasn’t the best at being parent of the year. The news article stands out the most.

  Angel’s Second Baseman, Trent Baker’s wife was shot and killed during a mugging gone wrong.

  And my brother killed her.

  My nightmare is the same every night.

  It’s the night I got the call about Dominic. The police call to tell me he’s at the police station. It’s not the first time I got that call. He has been in and out of jail as long as I can remember.

  It started out as small shoplifting charges here and there. He boosted a car a time or two. When Dominic was twenty, he started hanging out with the wrong crowd and that’s when the drug abuse began. I offered him rehab, doctor’s help, therapy, anything I could think of, but nothing worked.

  When I make it down to the police station, they direct me to homicide. I’m confused on why I was there. It isn’t until they tell me Dominic murdered someone that I almost pass out. Dominic Davis isn’t the greatest man in the world, but murder can’t be true.

  There is a patrolman in the homicide department, giving his statement, and I beg him to tell me the truth. I’d known him through the years because of help he’d given me at my job. He tells me there’s video of the whole thing and it is Dominic. The detective doesn’t have to show me the tape, but they do. I watch my brother approach Trent’s wife in the shopping plaza. They speak briefly and then Dominic pulls a gun. He yanks at her purse and she fights him. They shut the tape off right before Dominic pulls the trigger six times to hit her square in the chest.

  He did it.

  He killed her.

  The alarm on my phone wakes me up and I realize I fell asleep on my couch again. I can’t remember the last time I slept in my bed. It doesn’t matter because it’s time to get ready for my day.

  I think I have the greatest job in the world. I’m a social worker and I do my best to help troubled kids. I’ve been in their shoes and I know the struggles. Even though I’m overworked and underpaid, I love it.

  Walking into the office, I smile at my co-workers, but mainly keep to myself. Because my brother and I have different last names and Dominic never came around my office, no one knows he and I are related.

  The
only person who knows is my dear friend, Macy. She and I have been friends since college. She’s a reporter for the Memphis Daily News and thanks to her, my name has never been mentioned in the papers. I even used the back entrance to the courthouse and reporters didn’t see me. Since our mother has been out of the picture for years, they never mention any family. All of the reporters call Dominic a career criminal and drug addict. Those aren’t lies. He is a criminal, and he has a drug problem.

  I push all my family issues out of my head as I turn my focus to the mountain-high stack of paperwork on my desk. These kids need me and I’m going to help them. Since I had several home visits yesterday, today is all about the follow-up paperwork and forms I have to fill out. As I shuffle through file after file, my mind is lost in the abuse and neglect of these kids. I give my full attention to each case, and it’s hard, seeing it all. However, I try to find the time, and most of all, I try not to take it personally. It’s the hardest yet most rewarding job.

  Before I know it, the day has flown by, and it’s time to end it. I run a few errands before hitting the gym. I wait as late as I possibly can because the exhaustion of working out helps me pass out when I get home.

  I quickly change in the locker room, pop in my earbuds, and jump onto the treadmill. The gym is nearly empty and I like it that way. I focus on the TV ahead of me and listen to the loud bass music thumping in my ears. Running has always helped clear my mind. It’s why I joined the track team in high school, how I got my scholarship to college, and how I get through almost every day of my life.

  I see Trent approaching his usual treadmill, but I don’t make eye contact with him. My vision remains trained in front of me. I said all I needed to say to him yesterday; there is nothing else.

  When I finish my ten miles, I head over to the stretching center. Pushing and pulling on my body relieves the muscles. I’m lost in the intensity of the music when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I pull the buds out of my ears and turn around, only to find Trent Baker staring back at me.

  Good Lord. My mouth goes dry because I think he must know who I am, though I'm not sure how he would've found out. Is he going to scream at me?

  “Um...I wanted to say thank you for your kind words yesterday. I’m sorry I was so off-putting.”

  “Huh?” Did Trent apologize to me? He stares at me with a perplexed expression. “Sorry.” I shake my head. “I mean, you weren’t off-putting. I’m sure I sounded like a crazy person. Just forget about it.”

  Please, for the love of God, forget about me.

  Trent looks uncomfortable for a second, before asking, “Would you like to go over to the juice bar?”

  My heart stops. Is he asking me out? Has he lost his ever-loving mind? He can’t ask me out. Good Lord, Scarlett, let him down easy and walk away. This is so bad.

  “I would love to, but I’m getting ready to leave. I have an early morning meeting I need to do extra work for,” I quickly rush out the lie. “How about a rain check?” A rain check? What are you doing?

  “I understand. Sure. A rain check would be great.” He gives me a sad smile and my heart breaks. I could be the first female he’s talked to since his wife died.

  “Seriously.” I touch his arm, and he tenses up. “Next time.”

  He nods again, and I rush away, as fast as my legs will take me, to the locker room. This isn’t a good thing.

  ***

  MY LIFE HAS been in disarray for months. Half the time, I don’t even know what I’m doing. Ever since my wife, Deborah, was killed during a mugging, I feel like I’m running on low batteries. The only bright light that keeps me going is our daughter, Kaelyn. She’s the sweetest little girl, and I don’t know what I’d do without her.

  I also don’t know what I would do without my grandmother, who keeps Kaelyn while I work and when she’s not in school. It’s my second season with the team, and we have the season opener tomorrow. It’s going to be tough to have both of them there, but not Deborah. I try to push away the heaviness of my sorrow as well as the weirdness about what happened at the gym.

  The moment I open the door, Kaelyn shouts, “Daddy!” and runs toward me.

  I scoop her up in my arms. “How’s my girl?”

  “Me and Granny made cookies, and she let me eat some dough like Mommy did.”

  The ever-present ache in my chest grows, but I ignore it. “Yeah? Did you save me any cookies?”

  “Yep.” When I start walking into the kitchen where the cookies and Granny are, she quickly adds, “But you have to guess our secret word first! If you don’t, then we get all the cookies.”

  I glance at Kaelyn, the spitting image of my wife. “I have to guess? Don’t I get a free cookie because I’m Daddy?” I set her down on the stool at the bar and kiss Granny on the cheek. I turn around to face Kaelyn, who is thinking hard with pursed lips.

  “I guess you can have a free cookie, but you can’t have any more until you guess the secret word,” she finishes in a whisper.

  I pick up a chocolate chip cookie from the plate and take a bite, wondering what the word could be. “Do you know what it is, Granny?” I ask.

  She laughs and nods. “I do, but I’ve been sworn to secrecy, so I can’t help you.”

  “And,” Kaelyn begins. “Three strikes and you’re out, Daddy. Just like baseball, so you get three guesses.” She holds up her hand and slowly and carefully counts until she has three fingers up.

  “Is it baseball?” I ask. She giggles and shakes her head. I take another bite while I think. “Is the secret word Kaelyn?”

  “No! You’re almost out.”

  Granny starts laughing softly, which makes Kaelyn giggle. My fate at having another cookie is on the line, and I know if I guess wrong, Kaelyn will be on cookie patrol.

  “What about cookie?” Maybe she picked the obvious.

  “Yep! That’s it. Good job, Daddy. I’m going to finish coloring now.” She hops off the stool and runs off.

  I finish my cookie before asking my usual question, “How was she today?”

  “The same as every day,” Granny answers as she goes to the dishwasher and turns it on. “She behaved and raved about school while we baked the cookies. She’s excited to go to the game tomorrow, too. How are you today?”

  My eyes follow where Kaelyn disappeared. “I’m fine. Do you want me to drop her off with you before I head to the field or do you want to come here?”

  Granny’s watchful eyes are on me when I look back at her. “I’ll come here. How was the gym?”

  “Fine. Are you staying for dinner?”

  Sometimes she’ll stay, sometimes she won’t. “No, I’m going home. Spend time with Kaelyn before your schedule gets crazy. The lasagna should be done in fifteen minutes. I’ll see you tomorrow, Trent.”

  She pats me on the shoulder before leaving the room. I hear her saying goodbye and then she’s gone. It’s back to us being on our own.

  “Daddy! Come color with me!” Kaelyn yells from the living room. Just when I need a push to keep moving, my daughter is there to motivate me.

  “I’m coming.”

  “How’s that?” I ask Kaelyn. She wanted to get ready before I left, so I’ve been helping since I’m dressed. Of course, today, she wanted to wear her hair in pigtails. Why something so seemingly simple is so hard for me to get Kaelyn’s approval on, I don’t know.

  Kaelyn turns her head left and right as she looks in the mirror from where she stands on her little foot stool. “You’re getting better, Daddy. Can I have bows too?” She tilts her head back to look up at me as I stand behind her.

  “Bows?”

  “I’ll show you.” She hops down and runs off. A second later, she returns, holding two pieces of ribbon with baseballs on them. Deborah would make a bow around the hair bow of each ponytail. Kaelyn stands in front of the mirror and tries to make a bow, to show me how I’m supposed to do it for her. After fumbling for a minute, she huffs and throws the ribbon on the counter. Tears well in her eyes and she turns around t
o face me. “I can’t do it. Mommy knows how.”

  I take a deep breath. “Let me try.” I reach for the ribbon and hope like hell I can do it like Mommy. After making bows on each pigtail, I turn Kaelyn around for judging.

  She breaks out into a grin. “You did it!” She turns around and hugs me around the waist. “Now, I’m ready, too.”

  “And you look beautiful.” I kiss the top of her head. “I think I hear Granny; let’s go see.”

  Just as I thought, Granny is here. I feel good about my parenting skills when she congratulates me on how Kaelyn’s hair looks. I get a big hug and good luck kiss from Kaelyn before I’m able to leave for the field.

  The support from the team after Deborah’s death was almost overwhelming. It was reassuring to know that even though we’re all relatively new together, they have my back and are there if I ever wanted to take them up on their offers. At least, now that time has passed, I don’t get the same sad looks and questions every day.

  I keep to myself before the game and stay quiet during warm-ups. I thought about quitting, finding a job that would keep me home more with Kaelyn, but Granny convinced me not to. She said she would help and that I needed to keep something for myself, which, apparently, is baseball.

  So when I step onto the field for our first game of the season, I push out my beautiful daughter, the grief, the rage of having some low life like Dominic Davis take her from me over what was in her purse, and I send it all out of my head. Instead, I focus on my love for a simple ball game. Until it’s over and I have to face reality again.

  It feels good to be back.

  That’s my first thought when I catch a throw from Colby on third base and tag a runner out. The weather is perfect, the crowd is roaring with excitement over a new season, and we’re in the lead. Felix is pitching beauties so far today. Hector is providing us all entertainment in the dugout as he annoys Blake, or as he calls him, Grumpy. Jordan is up at home plate and I’m next.

  Roman is on second and when Jordan hits one way out in left field. It brings Roman home and puts Jordan on second. I step up to the plate, my feet wide apart for my stance, and I inhale. No other scent could match the aroma of a baseball field. It gets my blood pumping, ready for what’s coming.