Page 104 of The Trouble with Players

I tipped my head. “Love? Did I say love?”

He leaned forward and whispered, “I know you love me.”

I stifled a smile. “You sure you’re ready for all of me—the good, the bad, and the crazy?”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I stared into his blue eyes, positive I could get lost in them forever.

“Are we gonna tell your dad?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nope. We’re gonna head downstairs, and we’re gonna make out in front of him.”

Crew laughed. “I think that’s an awesome plan. The problem is, tonight, the only plan I have involves you, me, and this bed. Scaring the shit out of your father’s gonna have to wait.” And then he kissed me. And, he didn’t stop kissing me. Or loving me. Or telling me what I wanted to hear…the truth. The good, the bad, and the ugly truth.

And I loved him for it.

EPILOGUE

ELEVEN MONTHS LATER

Crew and I sat on the sofa in the beach house living room. We’d been on the Cape since graduating in May, and tonight was the night Crew had been waiting for since he was a kid.

“Is it on yet?” my mom asked, carrying a platter of food into the room where the flat screen aired the pre-draft commentary.

“Not yet,” Gina said as Cody adjusted the laptop facing the sofa. Crew’s reaction to wherever he went in the draft was being live-streamed.

Crew’s knee bounced slightly. And even though he told his college teammates and his Sharks teammates who were there supporting him that he wasn’t nervous, I could tell that he was.

“Am I late?” Crew’s mom asked as she hurried into the house with a platter of cookies.

“Right on time,” I assured her.

She placed her cookies down on the table, then moved to Crew’s other side and sat down.

“It’s starting,” Sam said as the commissioner of baseball appeared on the screen. He stood at a podium with a draft banner behind him and welcomed everyone to the draft. The crowd at the event in Seattle cheered.

Crew slipped his hand into mine, linking our fingers.

“Take a deep breath,” I whispered, knowing there was definitely something to be said for breathing.

Everyone in the room grew silent.

On the television, the commissioner announced, “With the first pick in this year’s major league draft, the Florida Marlins select Crew Burke, a shortstop from the University of Alabama.”

The room around us exploded with cheers. Crew remained still as his mother hugged him. Then, he turned to me with excitement in his eyes and wrapped his arms around me.

“You deserve this,” I whispered.

His teammates crowded around him, patting him on the back.

“They’re waiting in Seattle,” Crew’s agent said as he fist-bumped Crew. “You ready?”

Crew nodded and his agent clicked something on the laptop. Instantly, the view of our living room was on the television screen.

“Crew. Congratulations,” the sports announcer at the draft said.

“Thank you,” Crew said.

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