Page 116 of Unleashed

I watch a mail truck on South Sheppard, so I don’t have to lie to her face. “Hadley, stop. You’re making it out to be more than it was.” Tell that to my heart and soul.

“You’re lying to me.”

I whip my head to scowl at her. “I’m not.” Shit.

“Another lie. You think I don’t know you, Greg Rodwell?” Not really.

I shrug as some of our team takes the field. “There are parts of me you don’t know.”

“You have feelings for Simone.”

“Indigestion, nausea, heartburn... I could go on.” I shake my head before jabbing my thumb over my shoulder. “We’d better go back.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I said I’m finished talking about it.”

“Why don’t you love her? Is it because of...?” She clears her throat and looks away from me. I know where she’s going with that. Christ. I wish I could undo that night I showed up at Hadley’s. I should’ve kept it all to myself.

I continue watching our coworkers on the field. I mutter, “No. I was confused with you. I’ve never been in love. For real.” I wince as I walk.

Hadley follows me as Brandon swings, but the metallic ringing is short and blunt. Foul ball—his new specialty. He used to be the ball walker, but Shasta stole those. “Wait up. You walk faster than Finn, and he’s taller than you.”

I slow somewhat and sigh. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, Hadley. Simone and I are only living together this week. Then she’ll go her way, and I’ll go mine. She’ll get her master’s degree in whatever, and I’ll get my law degree and take the bar exam. Probably multiple times. We’ll live our lives.”

“Yes, she could marry a classmate. A professor. A bartender.” She giggles, and I clench my teeth as I shove my hands into my pockets. “If she invited you to her wedding, would you go?”

“I hate weddings.” Now I do.

“No, you don’t. You were the DJ at Morgan’s and walked me down the aisle at mine.”

“So? Still not a fan.”

“Someday, you’ll get married.”

“I wouldn’t do it again—fake or real. I’ll stay a bachelor. Less drama.”

When we rejoin the team, I see Val riding third base, ready for home plate. Seeing us, Tesco blows a pink bubble with a grin. “Hey, Miss Hadley. Hit shortstop.” His smile takes a hike as he looks at me. “Rodwell, I was wondering if you disappeared.”

“I wish.”

While Tesco yells for Sylvie, Wilder clutches his clipboard like a security blanket. As he holds the metal clip, his tire-looking wedding ring clicks against it and gleams brighter than the Vegas strip at night. Peeking out from underneath it, his Hadley tattoo reveals itself.

As Wilder writes, he says, “Grab a bat, Rodwell. You’re next.” Great. I feel like smashing something.

I see Simone sitting in the dugout, so I walk over. “Your brother bench you for puking?”

Sitting on the bench, Simone grimaces at the ground. “I’m fine, Rod.” I’ll let that slide for now.

“You don’t look fine.”

“You couldn’t give two shits about me.”

“Who says?”

She rolls her eyes, but before I can reply, Sylvie enters the dugout. She grabs my arm, and I swear to Milli Vanilli, she purrs, “Hot damn, Rod. When did you get muscles?”

“Hallmark.”

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