Page 28 of The Curveball

“Why does it feel like there’s a but?”

“No but.”

“There is,” Ryder interjects with half the tact as Dax. “Don’t make her a project since the season is over. If you like her, like her. But ladies know when a guy isn’t sincere and is doing something to make himself feel better.”

Parker shoves Ryder’s shoulder. “What do you know about the ladies? You can’t stop scowling at them long enough to know anything.”

Ryder huffs. “I know enough.”

“I’m not messing with Wren,” I say. “Can we let it go?”

They’re good guys. A little meddlesome, but these three care in their own way. I get it. At times, I try to help to the point I lose myself in the need to do it. I’m what my mom calls a caretaker. There is a strange need to keep people I care about comfortable. But with Wren it’s different.

The door opens, and the coaches and trainers file into the room. Skye steals a glance at Parker and winks. A bite of jealousy knicks at the thing in my chest. They’re annoyingly sweet, but I can’t help wanting a piece of it.

I wasn’t always looking for something more. Not that I was like Parker who rejected the idea of relationships like a plague, but I never cared to be tied down. Then I met Wren. It’s stupid. Probably a step into heartache, but it was like a switch flipped in my brain. The desire for a woman grew in a way I’ve never experienced.

I brushed it away as miserly attraction at first, but the switch never turned off.

Our coaches call the room to attention, and I lean over onto my elbows, stomach burning in disquiet. The loss is hitting harder now, like it’s finally settled our season is over, and I’m the one who brought the losing out. Even with the coaches reiterating there was nothing to be done, they’re honored to work with a team like us, blah, blah, blah, a big part of me wants to curl up and disappear into the floor.

I’m antsy in my own skin by the time the meeting ends.

“Hey, Griff,” Parker says, slipping a hoodie over his head. “Hang on.”

A muscle pulses in my jaw. I’ve been gone for over an hour and need to get back. But I turn around anyway, a tight smile on my face. “What’s up?”

Parker grips the top of my shoulder and leans in closer, so only he and I can hear. “You okay? I mean, you spent a lot of time at the hospital. All good?”

Great. Now I feel guilty for being even the slightest bit irritated he stopped my retreat. Parker knows my thing with hospitals.

“I’m good,” I tell him. “Sucked at first, but it was fine. Thanks, man.”

He gives my shoulder a jostle as Skye walks up and slips her arm around his waist. She pecks his cheek, then grins at me. “Hey, Griff. How are you doing? How is Wren?”

“She has a concussion.”

Skye’s face pales. “She does? It’s okay, though, right? Nothing the doctors are worried about?”

Parker caught a good one. It does something in my chest that my girl—she might be married to my friend but she’s still my girl—cares about Wren. But I hate to see her own worries about brain trauma rear to the front. “She’s all good, Skye. Thanks.”

“I’ll text her later.”

“She can’t look at blue screens for a while.”

“Right.” Skye rubs her forehead. She lifts her gaze and studies my face. “You doing okay with the loss?”

Skye can read minds. I’m pretty sold on the idea at this point. “Not really, but I’m not getting traded, and it’s all part of the job, right?”

For a moment, Skye scrutinizes me, but eventually smiles. “Right. Hey, tell Wren I’m coming to bug her soon to check in. I figured she might need a little breather first, but I’m coming whether she wants it or not.”

I chuckle. “I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

Skye rubs my arm, smiling. Parker smacks my back once more before they leave together. I offer Dax and Ryder a final wave, then hurry outside, but skid to a stop, nearly smashing into the back of the king of the Kings.

Dallas Anderson, Skye’s dad, owns the team. He’s a solid guy who loves the game. Some owners are pretentious billionaires, that’s not Dallas. He lives in a mansion, but knows the names of everyone working in this stadium.

He’s got his cell pressed to his ear, but at the sight of me, a grin breaks through his scowl. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”

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