Page 3 of Play the Field

Bri groaned as she hugged me from the side. “You’re ridiculous. I’m driving you home.”

It was an argument we’d have later, once we’d gotten our bitching session over with. Between Bri’s work for Victoria Bradley and her budding romance with Sarah Greenwood, there was a lot to discuss.

I pushed open the door to Cricket’s, a flood of country music and neon lights washing out onto the old porch.

The entrance was clear enough for us to push inside and find a spot right at the bar right by the door, but the dance floor was starting to fill up with line dancers.

Sliding into my stool, I waved down the bartender, Kyle. Once I had his attention, he wiped off the counter on the other end of the bar and made his way toward us.

“Hiya, what can I get you?” Kyle smiled, happy to see his regulars.

Bri clicked her tongue. “I’ll take a draft, your choice.”

Nodding, Kyle turned to me. “And for you?”

“Whiskey, neat. Please.” I rested my chin on my palm and leaned against the sticky counter.

Kyle was already walking away when Bri turned to me with a raised eyebrow. “That’s a little heavy, everything okay?”

I took in a deep breath, letting the stale air of our small town bar fill my lungs. Considering how I wanted to answer, I tried to get in touch with myself. I wasn’t entirely sure why I felt so heavy today. But here I was, ordering a whiskey and feeling like my chest might burst with frustration.

“I’m honestly not sure.” I let the deep breath out. Shaking it off, I gently smiled at Bri. “How are you holding up?”

Bri was about to slam her forehead into the bar but Kyle placed her glass right in the smack zone. Instead, she nodded her thanks and took a sip. “Good. The table is kicking my ass butseeing Sarah is… nice.” Her cheeks flushed pink as the words left her lips.

“Good.” I giggled as I took a swig of my whiskey. As she talked, catching me up on all things Sarah, my eyes wandered to the TV set over the ball. There were a couple, most of them playing men’s sports. But one of them was playing the highlights of what looked like the National Women’s Softball Championships.

I scanned the field for a familiar number but twenty-three never appeared.

After a moment, Bri could tell she’d lost me. So she followed my gaze to the TV and sighed. “Okay. Can I please set you up?”

“Why does everyone want that so badly?” I shook my head, using my drink’s small, back straw to stir the amber elixir. “I’m busy with the store, and the league, and my family. I don’t need anyone else.”

Raising her hands in surrender, Bri nodded. “I know. I don’t mean anything by it. I just wish you weren’t still hung up on that loser.” She tilted her chin toward the TV.

My body tensed at the words. “I’m not hung up on Cat.” Even just saying her name made my blood boil. I reached for my drink and let the whiskey burn my throat as it traveled into my lungs, warming me from the inside out.

Trying to change the topic, Bri slapped the counter. “Did you hear about Jessica?”

“No.” I laughed, already excited for whatever tea Bri had for me.

Before I knew it, Bri was launching into a long diatribe about the last recreation softball game and how Jessica had been a sore loser at Wagner’s after when the teams grabbed lunch.

We stayed like that for a couple of hours, until Bri felt sober enough to drive and I was tired of watching all the people whohad been good enough to actually qualify for the major softball leagues.

Throwing our tip on the bar, Bri and I walked into the parking lot. “Get in my truck.” Bri insisted.

But I stopped in my tracks and felt the cool breeze that blew through the trees on a hot summer night. “I’d really rather walk.”

Rolling her eyes, Bri sighed. “Fine, but text me when you’re home.”

“Of course.” I gave her a hug and headed back up the huge hill to my apartment on Main Street. New Winford was one of the safest towns in the country, our crime rate was only risen by rebellious teenagers trying to flip extra cash for some weed.

I took in the fresh summer air, letting it fill my whiskey-warm lungs. But every time I blinked, I saw that bastard’s face.

It’s not that I was hung up onher. I was hung up on how sheleft. It was cruel and all for her to just throw her career in the toilet after an injury. More than anything, I thought it was embarrassing for her.

But I never wanted to see her face again. I knew that for sure.

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