Page 86 of Knotted

Jules is hunched over her phone, squinting at the map like it’s written in hieroglyphics, refusing to let me take a look.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” I ask, glancing at the winding road ahead.

She doesn’t look up. “I’ve got this.”

Sure, because Jules and directions go together like sushi and cereal. If this were Taylor? Hell, we’d probably be halfway to Vegas by now.

“Turn here!” she shouts, and I jerk the wheel, the tires shrieking as we skid onto a dirt road that looks like it hasn’t been driven on in years.

Dust billows up around us, and just when I think we’re heading into the middle of nowhere, it appears—a rundown baseball field.

Thechalk lines are almost gone, barely ghosting the field, and the dugouts are hanging on by a thread, but the place still holds all its charm.

I can’t help the chuckle that escapes. “It’s been a while since I crushed you at baseball,” I tease.

“In your dreams, Bishop.”

We park and start walking around. “This could almost be a romantic stroll down memory lane—like that time I watched you totally lose your shit at the ump over a strike call.”

“Strike, my ass.” She giggles, her eyes lighting up.

That’s my Peach Pop. Feisty and gorgeous. “If someone had told me what I was in for, I’d have brought a change of clothes.”

“And spoil the surprise?” she fires back with a smirk.

I glance around at the field. With the look of these grounds, I could probably play just fine in my current prosthetic. But if push comes to shove, I’ve always got a blade tucked safely in the trunk—just in case Jules’s competitive streak rears its Godzilla head.

And let’s be clear, barring an alien invasion or biblical flood, there’s nothing keeping me from racing around that diamond if she asks.

Before I know it, a group of kids rush from the dugout, like they’ve been waiting for this moment all day.

One of them, the kid Jules has been texting, sprints right up to us, breathless. “You’re that Bishop guy,” he says in awe.

“I am.” I guess.

“Did you bring the list?” Jules asks, all business.

He pulls it from his back pocket, crumpled but intact, and hands it over. Jules motions to me, and I unfold the list. Uniforms. Bats. Mitts. And...a popcorn machine?

I arch a brow. “What is this?”

“Well, Mr. Bishop,” Jules says, smirking. “You’ve officially entered ransom negotiations with Max here.”

“For my watch?” I light up.

Max grins, pulling off his ball cap and letting the watch slip into his hand, still a little sweaty from being crammed in there.

Jules cringes. “Eww,” she mutters, patting me on the back as if I’m the one who has to deal with it. “Promise to get them every last thing on that list, and the watch is yours,” she says.

I don’t even hesitate. “Sold.”

He points. “What happened to your leg?”

Jules looks mortified, but before she can step in, I offer a warm smile, doing what I’ve always done with the curious and the innocently unfiltered. I roll up my pant leg, revealing the prosthetic, and let them have a look.

“It was an accident. The doctors saved my life, and this leg? It lets me keep doing everything I love.”

They huddle around me, wide-eyed, asking a thousand questions. “Can you leap tall buildings?”

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