Page 47 of Endgame

I can also say with astounding confidence that my lack of sex in a year will be the trigger to my eruption on the spot. At the first sight of thick thighs next to a thick cock, I’ll be forced to make Cal sleep with me.

I’m such a classy woman, although there wouldn’t be much force, considering I’d do anything that man asked of me.

But me, on an island, withnakedprofessional baseball players—what could I possibly need to accommodate for?

My panties, that’s what—more specifically, the quantity of panties I have on hand.

I’m only going to need, well, twenty-six of them.

22

CALLAWAY

“You good, man?”Bodhi sidles up next to me, taking my attention from the sore elbow that’s been causing me problems lately.

“I’m good, man. Just sore. This rest week will do me good.”

The last two weeks have been back-to-back games with some of them being double headers, and my body is feeling it. Fortunately for all of us, we’re headed into a week off from playing. The league made the decision to give us some time to spend with family for the upcoming Easter holiday.

The things I’m looking to the most are sleep and seeing my parents. Also, the idea of possibly seeing Dakota outside of a work setting sounds pretty great, too. The familiarity of it feels so distant, considering outside of Makers Park is where we saw each other first before she began working for the Strikers.

Even with the off week upon us, theSports Illustratedshoot is distracting my thoughts from the rest to come.Seven days. I’ve got seven torturous days until the woman of my dreams gets to witness her future husband, naked andunashamed. It may be a little ambitious for me to assume a future with a woman I hardly know, but when you know, you know.

I’m confident this will be the moment she lets me in.

I’ll make sure of it.

Bodhi intercepts my thoughts, “I think I need to get out. I’m gonna hit up Delta tonight if you want to join.”

Bodhi never goes out alone and never invites anyone to join him. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s having a tough time with life right now, and a friend is what he needs. A hot shower and sixteen hours of dead sleep sound incredible, but I’ll entertain the club for him.

“I’m down. Let’s head out at eight.”

Delta is a ghost town tonight.In all the years I’ve lived in Atlanta, I can't remember this place being anything other than alive with people.

A handful of women resembling a bachelorette party take up the dance floor. The bride's sash on the short one gives it away. The tables and bars are scarce with guests for a Saturday night.

What is going on?

Bodhi cuts off my thoughts while I fight the urge to leave, “Let’s grab a drink. There’s a free table right over there.” He points in the direction of the bar across the room where a couple of months ago, Dakota was all but begging to take me right then and there. I would have given in to her had I not been a colossal idiot.

Since the buzz ofSports Illustratedfeaturing the Strikers made public news, I’ve felt a shift in Dakota’s presencearound me, one that I can’t ignore. She seems lighter. Like her pain feels smaller. I’m still hoping for the day she shows me more of who she is. I’ll be ready to give her my full attention and convince her to take a chance on us when that happens.

She needs someone who will choose her, and I hope I’ve done a good enough job of making my message clear:I’m not going anywhere.I wouldn’t say I’m opposed to begging, but I’m content with laying low in a corner while she mends the emotional obstacles holding her back.

I follow Bodhi as we grab our drinks and head to the farthest table. I settle on water for the night while Bodhi does as predicted and orders a beer to hold. He never drinks it; he stares and lets it turn warm.

Seated at the bar top table, I look towards Bodhi as he turns the heavy glass in his hands, “So what gives? You doing alright, man? It’s not like you to wantto go out.” His stormy eyes look everywhere but at me. I’m not sure why; I’ve given him every reason to believe I can see right through the facade he wears so well.

“I don’t know anymore, Cal. I feel numb. Numb to it all. Like, what’s the point of living if I have to wake up every day to this pain.”

I hate this for him.

There have been times when it seemed like he was handling the transition from prison better than expected. Bodhi has always been quiet and reserved, but I’ve seen exponential growth in how he can handle social environments. After his release two years ago, he was in a constant state of alert, and his movements were that of a mechanical shell of a man: always watching his back, never engaging unless necessary.

We’ve been in the game together since the beginning. Attwenty-six, Bodhi was arrested for drunk driving, causing serious bodily injury. He was sentenced with a third-degree felony and was fortunate enough only to spend two years behind bars. After his release, the uncertainty of him coming back to play for the Strikers was up in the air. Not only was the stress from being released hard to handle, but the fear of not knowing whether the one thing that matters most to you in this life will still be there—in his case, that’s baseball.

It took severe convincing and endless hearings with his probation officer for the league. Traveling out of the state as a convicted felon still on probation is a difficult hurdle to jump. Upon his release, after two years of serving, he was assigned an additional two years probation. However, luck seemed to be on his side because the league agreed to honor his eight-year contract with only a five-thousand-dollar fine.

---