Page 23 of Rival Summer

I realized that despite everything—the pep talks I gave myself, the confidence I thought I had, and my determined resolve to avoid him at all costs, Reese Carrington could still shake my world and set it back on its axis all at once. The force of his presence was like a tidal wave, overwhelming and impossible to resist. His words echoed in my mind, my heart racing from our interaction, making every ounce of my self-control want to crumble in an instant.

As he pulled open the door and walked back inside the bar, the set of his shoulders told a story of frustration. I’d always known about the storm brewing behind those vivid eyes—a storm that could either sweep me away or leave me shipwrecked. The cool exterior wall pressed against my back as I sank down, my knees weak from our intense exchange. I tangled my fingersin my hair, pulling at the strands like that would help me sort through my thoughts.

The rhythm of approaching heels cut through the haze of my thoughts. It was Caroline. I could tell because the shoes were bright pink. I tried to avoid eye contact and took a breath, bracing for whatever criticism she had come armed with.

"Chandler," her voice pierced the silence before I had even looked up, carrying a weight of disappointment.

Her heels clicked to a halt in front of me, and I forced myself to meet her eyes. She stood looking down at me, her expression etched with disapproval, another blow in my already exhausting, battered day. What more could she possibly have wanted from me?

"Caroline," I greeted warily, my voice reflecting my exhaustion.

She folded her arms, and sighed heavily. "You can't have them both, you know."

I swallowed hard, the knot in my stomach tightening. She was like a mirror reflecting the choices I’d been dodging back at me, the reality I wasn't ready to face: I was caught between two brothers, two hearts, and a choice I wasn’t ready to make.

Her eyes softened just a fraction, but her words held firm. "You're going to have to pick one. You can’t have both, and they won't be wrapped around your finger forever."

Those words, spoken with such finality, hung between us. It was then I saw it—the animosity flickering behind her stern stance. It wasn't just disappointment that colored her judgment, there was something else, a raw edge that seemed almost... personal.

"Neither of them deserve that," she added, her tone dipping into a rare display of empathy.

I remained crouched there, the chill from the wall seeping into my bones. Caroline towered above me with her harshtruths, waiting for my response. But what could I say when I knew deep down that she was right?

TEN

boston

I dugmy cleats into the dirt, the roar of the crowd rising like a beast behind me. Bases loaded, two outs, tied game—every single eye was on me, every ounce of hope targeted at me, at-bat.

Gripping the bat with white knuckles, I exhaled slowly, silencing all thoughts except for me and the pitcher. The world narrowed to this, to the stretch and pitch, to the spin of the ball hurling toward me. Time seemed to slow as I swung, feeling the crack of solid contact radiate through my entire body.

The ball soared. I didn't need to watch it land to know it was going far—the eruption from the stands told me everything. My teammates cheered as I glanced ahead to the runners ahead of me charging towards home plate, their paths clearing for me round the bases. Dust flew around me as I made the final sprint to home. I scrambled up, looked around, and was met with a moment I’d always dreamed of—the team was rushing out onto the field, surrounding me, shouting with excitement.

The guys piled on me, screaming and high-fiving. My first out-of-the-park home run—not just a home run, but a grand slam. An electric charge surged through my veins, a thrill that went beyond a personal goal. It was a childhood dream.

A lifelong dream of mine had come true and somehow Chandler still slipped through the adrenaline of the moment. I gazed at the sea of faces, searching for those bright hazel eyes, hoping to catch just a glimpse of her reaction and see her expression. Scanning the stands was a bust, though. There was too much excitement to find her, but I knew her well enough to know she was probably jumping up and down.

Parker slung his arm around my shoulders. "Knew it was going to happen this summer," he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a wry smile with clear satisfaction in his eyes. "There's no coming back from that, man. Every major league team is gonna know your name now."

I just nodded, still half-dazed, the echo of the crowd's roar still lingering in my ears like a dream. We headed toward the dugout, the rest of the team trailing behind us, talking and laughing. And then Reese stepped forward, blocking my path with a stance that was all too familiar—confrontational, yet with a glint of something else in his eyes. Then his face broke into a smile.

"It kills me to admit it," he said, his voice not carrying his usual edge, "but that was pretty badass." There was a trace of respect, maybe even admiration, that I hadn’t expected from him.

He reached out a fist, waiting for me to reach out, too, for the fist bump. But a memory from the other night resurfaced.

He had carried Chandler out of the bar, his arm secure around her waist. Watching them disappear was harsh, but I had no choice besides reluctant acceptance. It sucked—there was no better word for it—watching him take control, seeing how wellhe stepped into the role of protecting her at all costs. But deep down, beneath the discomfort, I knew his intentions were good. They shared a history that I wasn't a part of, one that I knew they probably hadn’t completely shut the door on. Chander alone would have to decide if she wanted to close that chapter.

Reese and I couldn’t have been more different, but we both harbored an urge to protect Chandler. Maybe it was in our blood, or maybe it was simply who we were in relation to her—two people hopelessly drawn to who she was, how silly she could be when she let her guard down, her loyalty.

I knew I needed to give them space, to step back and let them have their moment. As much as I wanted to intervene, I couldn’t. If she decided to be with me, I wanted her completely—without any lingering doubts or hesitation. So I stood there, watching from a distance, wanting to punch Ben in the face to keep my mind off whatever was happening between Chandler and Reese.

"Thanks, Reese,” I said, returning his fist bump, bringing me back to the moment.

The crowd started to leave, and the team shuffled into packing up gear.

"Hey, let's celebrate at my house tonight!" Reese yelled. “A grand slam. We have to celebrate that shit.”

Bailey, always over the top, started banging on the metal cage to get the team's attention. "Riley! Riley!" he chanted. The chant caught on, each team member joining in until my last name reverberated around the field.

---