“Clair! Don’t you ever do that me again!” he heard her say, completely broken up as the sound muffled.

Then he heard it—just like at the hospital—the most beautiful sound in the world: Clair’s voice. She was crying too and saying she was sorry. The phone muffled again. Then he heard Addison’s voice still broken up. “AJ, I found her. She’s fine.”

While it was an enormous relief, it still wasn’t enough. He heard Clair asking her something; then suddenly Clair’s voice was on the phone. “I love you, AJ” she said, and AJ could hear she was crying too.

“I love you too, Clair Bear,” he said as the emotion overwhelmed him, alleviating the utter rage he’d begun to feel.

He turned because the guys were flagging him down. They were getting ready for the opening ceremonies.

“Listen, sweetheart,” he said, starting back towards where the starting lineup was forming for the national anthem. “I’m gonna have to get going. The game’s about to start, but I’m so glad you’re okay. Please don’t ever scare us like this again.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, sniffling. “I didn’t mean to scare you or Mom. I was just sad.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, gripping the phone a little tighter. “Promise me you won’t worry or be sad about anything anymore. Everything’s gonna be fine. We’ll talk about all this after the game. Let your mother know I said that, okay? We are talking about this tonight. For now, just hurry up and get down here. I need my two girls here to cheer me on.”

“I promise,” she said, sounding a little less down. “And, AJ, I would never in a million years believe that you would purposely try to hurt me.”

He stopped walking, even though the coach was motioning for him to hurry. “Who said I would hurt you?”

Addison said something in the background. The phone was muffled, and the line suddenly went dead. It was just as well; the announcer was already introducing the boy band who’d be singing the national anthem, and the girls in the crowd were going crazy. He wouldn’t have been able to hear anything, so he started walking again without trying to call Clair back. Then it came to him—what Addison had said earlier in the conversation. She knows about her dad and all the accusations and threats he’s been making.

This guy was accusing AJ of purposely trying to hurt Clair? That motherfucker. Oh they were talking about this tonight. Clair obviously knew now. There was no reason to keep this under wraps anymore, and AJ was getting to the bottom of who this asshole was once and for all.

~~~

For the first five innings, AJ did his best to focus on the game. He did what he’d done many times in the past, what his coaches had been telling him to do for years. He made the rage work for him, not against him. Already he’d hit one out of the park, putting the Padres up by three. He was at the plate again, trying not to think about the worst thing Clair’s dad could do or say: accuse him of hurting Clair. The only thing worse would be if the idiot ever dared to hurt Clair himself. But emotionally he had already. And tonight could’ve been so much worse—because of him.

As Addison said, a little girl wandering around a hotel by herself, even one as bright as Clair, was in danger. Because she was distraught and not herself, things could’ve ended so much worse. When Addison mentioned how someone could easily pull her into his room, AJ had been ready to forfeit his game so he could get back to the hotel and break down every door if he had to. Once they’d found Clair, he had every intention of going after the guy responsible for her being so upset. He still did, but he had to get through this first.

After his first at bat bringing in three runs and as hot a hitting streak AJ had been on lately, it was no surprise that Bigsby was on his feet and not crouched behind the plate. He held his arm off to the side for the first pitch way outside. They were walking AJ. The crowd’s reaction was mixed. Some cheered, others—the Padres fans in the house—booed.

AJ smirked, scratching his nose with his knuckles before setting up for the next pitch. Maybe it was because, aside from when he’d run around the bases after hitting one out of the park earlier, this was only the second time tonight he felt like smiling. Maybe it was because Big Mouth Bigsby, who usually had plenty to say especially to AJ, had yet to say a word to him these entire two and a half games, and AJ knew why. He was still pissed about the ESPYs. Or maybe it was just that AJ needed to let out a little steam—piss someone off—so he chose that moment to do something Bigsby would do. Bust his balls.

“I already made this my house earlier.” AJ hit the side of his cleats one by one with the bat to rid them of any dirt stuck underneath. “What good’s it gonna do you to walk me now?”

“What did you say?” Bigsby said, getting in AJ’s face so fast it caught AJ by surprise, but he backed up with a smirk when the ump got in between them and other players began to surround them.

Bigsby was a bigheaded and rude asshole, but AJ had never known him to be a hothead. His face was all red, but while he put on a good show of having to be held back, he held his hand up in a gesture that he was letting it go. This time AJ did the same thing. Only he held his arms up to his side, feigning innocence, even as the crowd started to chant a mixture of “Rage! Rage! Rage!” and “Fuck Rage!”

Coach Lara stood in front of him, cautiously reminding him he didn’t want to get ejected or worse suspended, but AJ wasn’t even trying to argue. Luckily, Bigsby calmed fast enough that the benches and bullpens didn’t have to clear. The ump issued warnings to both benches before giving the “play ball” sign after all the other players had gone back to their positions.

To AJ’s surprise, Bigsby crouched down behind the plate. Had AJ’s ball-busting comments really made Bigsby change his mind, and they decided not to walk him after all? Amused, AJ got in position to hit again. He’d love nothing more than to hit another one out of this asshole’s house again.

It took a little longer than normal for the pitcher and Bigsby to agree on the next pitch. When they finally did, the next pitch came flying fast and straight at AJ, beaming him in the shoulder. Instantly enraged, AJ dropped his bat ready to charge the mound at the pitcher, who was thrown out immediately by the ump, and this time the benches did clear.

“My house, asshole!” he heard Bigsby say, and it dawned on AJ just then they had no intention to pitch to him at all.

This wasn’t the pitcher’s doing. It was Bigsby’s. He turned toward Bigsby, who was still pointing at him over the guys holding him back. “My house! My everything, you hear me?”

Bigsby pushed off the guys in front of him and held his arms up, pulling up his sleeves as he continued to taunt AJ, even though AJ wasn’t really trying to come at him full force yet. It was a cheap shot, and for a second, AJ actually considered that maybe he should’ve known better. Everybody knew assholes like Bigsby were good at dishing it out but could never take it when the tables were turned. This was the playoffs, and the guy was probably already frustrated that they were down by two and this game wasn’t looking good for them either.

Then he saw it.

Bigsby was still holding his arms up in a “come at me” motion and running his mouth, repeating the same shit over and over. “My house! My everything. You get nothing. You hear me? It’s all mine. Always has been.”

The moment he saw it he nearly froze. AJ’s eyes zoomed in on the tattoo on Bigsby’s inner forearm, and in the next instant, his eyes were on Bigsby. The guy smiled smugly when he realized AJ had just seen it.

“All mine!” was the last thing AJ heard before everything seemed to go silent. Nothing but a buzz rang in his ears now, and the inferno was lit inside him.