Page 46 of The Problem with Players

13

NATHAN

Honey Creek had a runaway bride on their hands, and the whole town was in a tizzy about it.

Avery didn’t marry Wesley.

She didn’t get married.

On one hand, I felt a sense of pleasure about that fact because Wesley wasn’t good enough for her. I was happy she didn’t tie herself to him for the rest of her life.

On the other hand, he broke her heart.

I knew Avery was heartbroken, even if she didn’t show it. She had such a hard exterior, but I knew deep inside she was the most gentle, emotional person. I knew she felt things a lot deeper than others. So I hated that she was somewhere out there, pretending she was fine when she was far from okay.

Luckily for me, I knew Avery Kingsley.

I might’ve known her better than she knew herself.

So while the whole town searched to find where Avery had escaped, I knew exactly where I could find her.

As I strolled over to the batting cage, there she was, holding a wooden bat tightly in her grip. She wore a beautiful wedding dress along with a backward baseball cap. The trainof the dress was covered in dust and dirt from the baseball field.

As the ball flung from the machine, Avery swung and knocked it out of the damn park. I’d never seen a person swing with so much power, and I worked in the Major Leagues. I was almost shocked that the bat didn’t snap in half.

I leaned against the bleachers for a second, watching her as she knocked pitch after pitch toward outer space.

It wasn’t until the machine was out of balls that I spoke.

“You get it out of your system, Coach? Or do you want me to reload it for you?”

Avery turned to face me. Her chest rose and fell from her weighted breaths as she tilted her head toward me. At first, she seemed confused by my presence, but then her face hardened again. She turned away from me and nodded. “Reload.”

I flicked my thumb against my nose and did as she requested.

I reloaded the machine three times before I became concerned with how out of breath Avery had become.

“Reload,” she requested once more.

“I think that’s enough, Coach.”

“No, it’s not. Reload.”

“Avery—”

“Fine.” She dropped the bat. “I’ll do it myself. I didn’t need you to do it for me at all anyway. I don’t needanyoneto do anything for me.” She huffed and puffed as she stormed over to the machine. As she reloaded it, I walked over and placed my hand over hers.

“Ave…come on.”

“What?”

“You’re burned out. How about you get some water and?—”

“Stop it,” she ordered, pointing a stern finger my way. “Don’t you dare feel bad for me. I see it in your stupid brown eyes. I don’t need you to feel bad for me, Nathaniel Pierce. I don’t needyour pity. Lord knows I’m going to get it from everyone else in town. You’re the last person I need to look at me with those sad damn eyes.”

“I don’t feel bad for you,” I lied.

She rolled her eyes so far back I thought they’d get stuck. “Don’t lie to me. Have enough respect for me not to lie to me.”

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