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Chapter 70

When he lines up his next shot, Mike’s still grinning at him. I’ll wipe that off,he assures himself. Just you wait.

Another throw, another swing, another foul. This one hits the ground just outside the foul line before any of the Rebels can catch it. “Damn it!” Rob curses, glaring at the first baseman who should’ve had the ball. Should’ve had the out.

The ball finds its way back into Rob’s grip. He narrows his eyes as he stares down Mike. Enough playing around.

He pitches. Mike swings. The ball makes a hollow thudas it connects with the bat and, before Rob can react, the ball comes whizzing toward him. He holds up his mitt, but too late—the ball catches him right below the collarbone, smack dab in the middle of his chest. At the speed it’s traveling, he doesn’t feel it at first, just watches it strike him and go bouncing away.