(Complete) Kenzie Lynch grew up around baseball, but her father refuses to let her get involved with any players. Christopher Jett's loves baseball, Coach Lynch and the girl he can't have. After six years, can they learn to be friends and will frie...
Command: The advanced skill of a pitcher's ability to throw a pitch where he intends to. Contrast with control, which is just the ability to throw strikes, command is the ability to hit particular spots in or out of the strike zone.
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Ten years ago...
Kenzie Lynch sat in the stands bundled up to keep out the April cold. In her gloved hand, she held a radar gun. It was her job to point it at every pitch. Her father, the coach at North Hills Academy, was paying her to freeze.
It wasn't like she had anything better to do on a Saturday. She'd be hanging out at practice, anyway. She watched the wind-up and listened as her father gave Davy instructions. The smallest adjustment could result in a very different pitch. She watched as he simulated a pitch without releasing the ball.
"Next one... be ready Kenze!" Her father hollered.
She held up the gun and pointed it. Davy gripped the ball, Kenzie was trained to watch the delivery. His release was high and thud, the ball hit the leather glove only because the catcher came out of his crouch for it.
Kenzie jumped up and hollered, "Ninety-two! That was ninety-two!"
Christopher Jett, the catcher, turned to look at her as she celebrated Davy's velocity. Big league pitchers threw in the nineties and Davy was just eighteen. She wanted to yell to Jett to turn around and stop looking at her. He may have been her brother Ben's best friend, but mostly he was annoying, especially when he sat behind her in psychology class and pulled her ponytail. If she told on him, he could be disciplined which would affect his eligibility to play ball, then her father would be angry.
Jett stared at her, but Davy was smiling. Kenzie looked down before her father noticed.
Davy continued to throw, and she recorded similar speeds but most often the thud was the sound of the backstop, not the catcher's glove.
All year, she had hung around Davy trying to get him to notice her. When he finally did, she had her first kiss in the woods. Unfortunately, her brother ratted on her. Never had she seen her father so angry as he demanded, "Stay away from ballplayers. I never want to see you with another baseball player, ever until the day I die! I mean it, Mackenzie!"
If their neighbors heard, which they probably had, they would think he was being way over the top. Her father loved ballplayers — he had been one and her brother played. The problem was their mother ran off with one of her father's triple-A teammates, who had been called up to the majors. She left her husband and two young children behind.
Sean Lynch never made it to the big leagues. He blew his knee out and had to settle for a career as a baseball coach. The rest of the year, he worked as a carpenter. He was good at it, but often grumbled his kids would get a college education.
His orders were clear. His son's goal was to be a better player than him, but all players were off limits to his daughter.
A/N This was a short prologue. First full chapter will be on Monday.
It's something I haven't done since Shattered Hearts, but I'll be bouncing around the time line.
I never imagined when I wrote this there would be no baseball in April. High school and college fields are empty, as well as major and minor league stadiums across the US and in Canada.
