Page 141 of Stolen Bases

“One thing at a time, itty bitty,” Cam whispers in my ear.

Shivers wrack my body, and my hair stands on end. I chance a look up into Cam’s warm hazel eyes, and our life together flashes before me. We can have this.

“Cam,” I choke. Emotions clog my throat. There are so many complications that face us.

A piece of me wants to tell him about my mom, but I don’t want to put that on him. I know Cam; he’ll push me away before he comes between me and my family. I’m not sure I’d recover if he left me, and I don’t know if I’d ever forgive my family for chasing him away.

Because Cam knows me, he runs his finger down my cheek and says, “I know, baby. I promise I’m going to fix it.” Sealing his promise with a kiss, he places a chaste peck on my lips.

I want to believe him, I really do, but that little voice buried deep in my head won’t shut up.

What if Cameron can’t fix whatever problem Nico has with him?

What if I lose my mom and brother by being with Cam?

Worst of all…What if I lose Cam?

thirty-four

Cameron

The San Diego SunRays are no match against us and the winning streak we have found ourselves on, but something about today feels different, and I can’t shake the sense that something monumental is about to happen.

It’s my turn in the pitching rotation to start on the mound, and the nervous energy buzzing through my system has me twitchy. I’m a ballplayer, so of course I’m superstitious. It’s who we are. Some guys don’t wash their socks during a hitting streak—which I find gross as fuck—while others, like me, have pregame rituals that help us get game ready.

I like to go for a run first thing in the morning and wear headphones an hour before the game. There’s a playlist I listen to that helps block out the noise while I read through my pitching notes on the guys I’m likely to face today.

“Are you ready for today, Miller?” Reed McKay, our shortstop, slaps me on the back, knocking my notebook off my lap. He’s been one of my closest friends and a damn good wingman since he joined the team a few years ago.

He’s a good-looking guy with brown hair and blue eyes. We used to kill it in the clubs together when we were out on the prowl. He had been on my ass to hit the clubs with him until he figured out there was a woman in my life. He doesn’t push, but I can tell he’s curious.

I pop out my headphones and answer him. “You know it. I’m ready to turn up the heat.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He rubs his hands together and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what it is, but it feels like a good day to play some ball.”

“It does,” I agree with a nod. I rub at the side of my hat. “I’ll see you out there, man.”

“Make it quick, Miller. It’s game time.” He wiggles his brows at me and heads out of the locker room.

I pull out my recently acquired talisman and take a seat in front of my locker—my new ritual—staring at the mini polaroid picture Rhys took of me and Talia with his instant camera. I look like a lovesick fool. Talia is sitting on my lap, smiling at the camera, looking so fucking beautiful it hurts. Her hair is free from her usual braids, and she’s wearing that sexy-as-fuck pink sundress that turns me into an animal.

Memories of me bending her over, lifting the soft fabric over her ass, and fucking the shit out of her in it assault my brain.

My dick swells in my cup. I adjust myself, memorizing the look in her eyes. You can’t mistake how happy she looks. Her smile reaches her stunning steel-gray eyes that sparkle in the sun like two gemstones. Me? I’m not looking at the camera. I’m looking at her like she’s the moon and all the stars in the sky.

Talia Romero is all I see. All I think about. If I’m not playing baseball, my mind is on her. It’s been that way since we met.

I flick the edge of the picture I keep tucked into the band inside my hat. I swear I can hear her laugh, smell her sweet floral scent, and feel her warmth on my skin as if she were beside me when I touch the photo. Not only does it make me feel close to her, but I’ve also been on a massive hot streak since I slipped the snapshot in my hat. She’s my good luck charm.

I can’t wait to see Talia tonight. I’m finally back home after being on the road—the hardest ten days of my life. While me and myteam have been kicking ass, I can’t deny it’s become increasingly more difficult to be away from Talia.

Sharing a room with her brother doesn’t help either. We have no privacy, so our calls are strictly quick check-ins so I can hear her voice. I miss her so damn much.

A shadow falls over me, and I shove the picture back into my hat before placing it on my head.

“You’re shit at hiding, Miller,” Anson grumbles, taking a seat on the bench beside me.

I look around the locker room, noticing that most of the guys have cleared out and are already on the field warming up before tonight’s game.

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