Page 62 of Catching Feels

“Not at all. You’ve just been”—she shrugs—“distant?”

“Distant?”

“You should stay in the house.” She pouts. “We have room. The best room in the house is free.”

“You and Rome are nuts not to move down here.”

“Makes more sense to save it for when Chloe, Danny, and Aggie visit.”

“That’s sweet.”

She looks at her watch. “You ready to roll?”

“I am. Is Cora coming?”

“She and her father are in the city again.”

“Damn, they really do love Broadway.”

CeCe gives Ellie smooches before sending her into her crate. “Did you not like it?”

“I love any new experience, but I’d never choose theater seats over bleachers.”

“A girl who knows what she likes,” CeCe states as she hits the key fob, unlocking her car. “Rome aside, if we met in the wild, you and I would become friends.”

I don’t know why that gets to me, but it does. And as I slide into the car, I try to hide my emotions, but CeCe Shaw is too observant.

She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’re incredible, Jillian Hart.”

“I’m so glad he found you.”

13

Winner Either Way

Nour

As is tradition when we lose a game, we go home, binge-eat Taco Bell, and sulk as we watch the highlights.

I have a hell of a time sulking after I hit a triple tonight, with bases loaded, and hit two others in the five innings I played. I suppose I can play up my annoyance for the one grounder I hit that I was out at first before I was even halfway to the base.

My head wasn’t in it. I had glanced up at the stands, saw Jillian on her phone, and immediately wondered if she was setting up a meet with subject number two.

That can’t happen. It’s clear that her nips are, in fact, lucky.

When two thirty hits and I’ve seen no signs of her coming back from O’Donnell’s, it’s not subject two that most concerns me; it’s the phone call I overheard the other night from her old man and the fact she is a grown-ass woman and can do as she pleases with her money. But the vile things he said and the tone he used, he’s clearly fucked in the head.

Rome walks down the stairs and looks around. “Boys in bed?”

“Yeah.” I sit up and try to mask the worry when I ask, “Everything okay?”

“Jillian’s car stalled out at a light a couple blocks away. I’m going see what I can do or tow it home.”

“Need some help?” I ask, standing up.

“If you’re offering, I’m not gonna say no.”

Once in his truck, I decide to feel out how receptive he’d be talking about his old man by cracking open the vault and letting some of my ancient history out.

---