Page 78 of Easy Out

Their room has an open floorplan with a horseshoe of open lockers. They look more like miniature closets lining the walls. Each player has a space, personalized with their last name and number, to hang jerseys and practice shirts, a small safe to lock up personal items, a cabinet to store pants or whatever they want, and a compartment at the bottom for shoes.

I walk around the room until I find Hart’s name. He has a few practice shirts and jerseys hanging on a tension rod. There is a pair of cleats and a spare glove on the bottom shelf. “Is this you, Wyatt, Koa, and Nash?” I point to the one photo he has taped to the wall.

“Sí. We were ten or eleven, I think.”

“You were a little gordito, weren’t you?” I rub a finger over his chubby cheeks and pot belly. He was the shortest one of the group too. Now he is one of the tallest. Maybe an inch shorter than Wyatt who towers over everyone.

“Be nice, brujita." I smile and lean my head on his shoulder. This photo was taken when life was hard, and kids were cruel to him. I can’t hug that little boy, but I can wrap my arms around the man beside me.

I prop my chin on his chest and look up at him. “You should be really proud of yourself, James.” He holds me as if trying to transfer his emotions to me. His chin rests on the top of my head. Hart’s shoulders relax, and his breathing slows. I wish I knew what he’s thinking about.

When he pulls away, we stare at each other, saying nothing but feeling way too much. Hart brushes a thumb over my lips while cupping my cheek. We move towards each other in unison.

His lips skim over mine. I feel his smile against my skin before he picks me up and carries me toward the exit. I start to giggle but freeze when he presses me against the closed door, claiming my lips again.

“Lauren,” Hart says my name like he’s aching for me. Like it physically pains him that he can’t get closer to me. I feel it too. Every time he touches me it’s like starting a wildfire. Hart rolls my body against his. The action makes me whimper.

Laughter from the hallway cools us down. “Vamos. I want to show you the view from the field before we go home.” Home. The word rattles around against my rib cage.

I let Hart tow me out of the locker room, past the dugout, and onto the field. I don’t stop walking until I reach the same spot I saw Hart stand in earlier during practice.

I feel tiny. I mean, I always feel short, but looking out into the stands makes me feel even smaller. I can imagine the seats full of people, cheering him on.

“Is this your favorite view?” I ask.

“Used to be.” Now it’s you, is what he means. His words make my heart skip. I’m not used to someone saying such sweet things to me. There’s never been a man who looked at me like Hart does. Like he loves me. I clear the thought out of my head.

“Do you ever get nervous in front of the crowd?”

“Do you?” He throws back. I shake my head. Sometimes I get nervous when there is a lot of money on the line. Once I step out on the dance floor, nothing matters except me and the music. I imagine it’s the same for Hart.

“I can’t believe you will be playing baseball professionally. You get to do what you love and get paid for it.”

“If I got paid to do what I love, cariño, I would get paid for spending time with you.”

“You like spending time with me, huh? I’m afraid I don’t have the same salary cap as a professional baseball team.” I try to make light of his words, but they have already sunk so deep into my skin I’m afraid I will never be able to remove them.

His hands slide over my forehead, down my cheeks, over my lips. Those same hands brush over my shoulders and down my back until they land on my butt cheeks. He jerks me close.

“I love spending time with you. More than I should.” More than he should. What does that mean? “It means that you consume me.” He answers the question I thought I asked silently in my head. “I should be focused on baseball. On my career. But it is an impossible task now that I have you.”

“Oh.” I attempt to wiggle out of his hold, but Hart only grips me harder. “We don’t have to hang out tonight if you need to do baseball stuff. We turned in our assignment and I have enough information now to finish my other story. What about you? Do you have enough?”

“No.”

“No? Okay, well what else do you need?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, mi brujita.” His eyes are dark and shine with desire. “You. I need more of you. I will always need more of you. We are going to go eat and we’re going to talk. Then I’m going to hold you until you fall asleep. And even then, it will not be enough.”

18

HART

“What did Coach want?” Koa asks me as soon as I enter the locker room to pack up my gear. Everyone else has cleared out. He should have left too.

“Interviews. He wants me to do media training with a specialist.” It’s difficult to hide my irritation.

“You knew this was coming. He’s mentioned it before.”

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