Page 9 of Catching Feels

11 - The bracelets the kids from the center gave me when I got pulled up to the majors are on my wrist.

Stepping out of the tunnel and onto the field, I look up at the sun, seeking its warmth and repeat my mantra in my head, It’s a good day to win.

And then … the crowd notices us and immediately starts booing.

Chuck Turner, who is our designated hitter, once catcher, cups his ear and smiles. “That’s Angels fans accepting they’re getting an ass kicking today, Jags!”

Smirking, I look up, scan the crowd, and spot her immediately. Even knowing she’s going to be here, it’s shocking. It’s one thing for me to turn away from our family, but Amira taking the stand that she has, by simply being here, is making a statement to the family, and it doesn’t sit right with me.

She’s beautiful, educated, and successful. She’ll have a wonderful life, but it could have been much easier had she not said fuck the patriarchy in the way she did when moving to Trenton.

“Who’s the hot at fuck brunette with the Wags?” AJ asks loudly, knowing damn well it’s my sister.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joesph,” Rudy Galleon says then bites his fist.

“That’s Dr. Uyar.” Amias Steel, our short stop, says, smacking him in the stomach with his glove.

Rudy narrows his eyes at AJ as he takes the glove and accuses, “You knew?”

“Damn right, I did.” He laughs his ass off as he takes off toward centerfield.

I watch all of this from the corner of my eye.

“Nour, I was?—”

I cut him off with, “Nope.”

Roman Hart, second base, chuckles. “Galleon, he says no more than ten words to anyone, other than Bennett, until he catches the first warmup pitch.” It’s eight, but he’s clearly caught on to my superstition. “After that, I’m sure he’ll give you the ass chewing you deserve for disrespecting his sister.”

“How the fuck did I disrespect her? Said she was hot,” Galleon defends himself. “Didn’t say I wanted to add her to the rotation.”

“She’s a decade under your preferred demographic,” Cody Vanders, our left fieldsman, states as he passes by.

Following him out, Galleon gives him shit right back, “Vanders, you really wanna open that door and grant me access to talk about your?—”

“Don’t go there, G,” Vander warns.

He and Locke “played as a team” before Locke got the only girl he ever wanted to call his and his alone. To each their own.

I watch as Bennett walks away from whatever pearls of wisdom he and his pitching coach—a.k.a. his father, Blaze Bennett Sr.—has just instilled in him, and just like always, he looks pissed.

I glance at our manager, Josè Evans, and wonder when he’s gonna clue into the fact Jr. despises his old man. He’s an amazing pitcher, and the minute he’s not under his old man’s thumb, he’ll be one of the best, if not the best, in the entire league.

“Kid’s gonna be okay,” Pope says, nodding toward the stands.

I look up and see a few of the owners—Justice, Truth, Brisa, Tris, Bella, Kiki, Max, and Patrick—all staring toward Bennett. Behind them, the team’s property owners—their parents—are doing the same.

Patrick Steel sees me looking at them and nods to me. I lift my chin, hoping he sees what I do.

I then shift my line of vision to Amira. She’s laughing at something being said, and so is everyone sitting in that area. Jillian Hart isn’t, though. She lifts a shoulder, rolls her big doe eyes, and then bats lashes that are no doubt false. I’m pretty sure her tits are, too. No woman, no human, is that naturally sexy. I’m honestly shocked her brothers allow that. Not that I’d say that to her or them, but it’s a safe assumption that they paid for it so, clearly, they support her choice to put Ds on a five-foot-three, maybe four, frame. Safer yet to assume it was Hudson—Rome’s the more conservative of the two.

“You good, man?”

Remembering the first time the two women walked into the bar, both incredibly stunning, and how any man with a pulse, even those who prefer men, took a second look, and then AJ asked in a way that showed obvious interest, “What have we here?”

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