Page 92 of Vegas Heat

“You gonna make out with it or are you gonna toss it?” Danny yells from first, and I brush off the feeling as I pull my arm into position and launch it toward first base.

It falls right into Danny’s glove.

Like riding a fucking bike, and goddamn does it feel good.

We play catch for maybe a half hour before we call it good, and I know my arm will be sore tomorrow, but my elbow feels fine—good, even, and I have plenty of recovery time to build the muscles back up to where they need to be.

It felt right being back out on the field, and I shower and spend a little time fucking around at the stadium before I leave with a renewed sense of hope.

I stop to pick up an early dinner, and I call my mom on the way home.

“Hey, it’s my favorite baseball player,” she answers, her voice filling my truck.

I chuckle. “Hello Mother.”

“What are you up to? Feeling any better?”

“It’s only been like a day, and no, I’m not. But I did go to the stadium twice now, and I worked out. I picked up a baseball, Mom.”

“You did? How’d it feel?”

“Like I had my purpose back,” I admit.

“I’m so happy for you, honey. The diamond always seemed to be the place where you felt most at home.”

“It always was, and I’m glad to be back on it. Have you looked anything up on the Heat?” I ask.

“Nope. I wanted to hear it all from the source,” she says.

“Rush Ross and Danny Brewer are the first two I’ve met. I guess Duke Owens is joining us, too. Danny and I tossed a ball around and he invited me to be part of their poker group.” I stop at a red light.

“That’s great! Building that team atmosphere already. I’m happy you’re finding people. I worry about you, you know.”

“I know you do. But you don’t have to. I’ve got this,” I lie. I don’tgot thisat all, and my heart starts to hammer loudly in my chest as I turn into Troy’s subdivision.

Her truck is in the circular drive. A Jeep is parked behind her truck, and it’s got one of those bumper stickers with Calvin peeing on the Ford logo.

Fuck this kid.

Is he purposely doing this shit just to piss me off?

I park as close as I can to his bumper so he’ll have a hell of a time getting out of his spot. A little dent in my bumper is worth it if it comes to that.

The house is quiet when I let myself in, but I know they’re around here somewhere.

I head to the kitchen, where I set my food on the table and start eating. I hear some loud laughter as it carries through the house, and my chest tightens a little at the sound. She’s having a good time with another guy.

Good. She should. She should move on from me and laugh and smile since those are things I can no longer give her.

But not with a douchebag like that kid.

I hear footsteps and voices approaching as I finish the meal that meets Nick’s calorie guidelines, and I think about running out of the room, but intimidation tactics might be more fun.

They’re laughing again when they turn the corner, and Gabby freezes when she spots me sitting at the table.

Her eyes connect with mine, and I swear I spot some guilt there before she glances away. “Oh, didn’t know you were here,” she mutters.

“Feeling better after that epic hangover?” I ask.

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