Page 53 of The Third Baseman

Even in my fantasies, I’d had her following my career in some way.

When in reality, she’d made sure I’d no longer existed for her.

“I wanted to know what they said.” Her voice was so low she was almost talking to herself. “This date…”

“The day we met.” I raised my other arm slightly higher, pointing to an identical entry. “And this is the date of our first kiss.”

At some point the air had become static, silently crackling with electricity. It was so thick and heavy it was getting harder to breathe. She was standing so close to me that she needed to tip her head back to look up at me; so close I could see straight down her towel.

Her breath shallowed.

I took a chance, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. She didn’t flinch, she didn’t move away. She simply stood there staring up at me, her lips parted with the narrowest gap.

I didn’t notice myself getting nearer. My attention was only on her, and the blush spreading across her cheeks, down her neck, and onto her chest.

Just like it used to every time we had sex.

It was my favorite color.

She still hadn’t moved. I could feel her breath on my face. My lips werethisclose to hers. I could almost taste her.

Almost.

“Starlight, star bright,” I whispered.

I should have kept my mouth shut.

“No!” She shoved me so hard I actually had to step back. “What the hell?! You don’t get to break into my room, naked with your body all… that,” she angrily circled her palm at me, “and your tattoos all… and pretend like it hasn’t been half a lifetime since we saw each other and you didn’t rip my heart from my chest! I’m not that meek girl whose stars and moons once revolved around you. I’ve grown up. You can’t just snap your fingers and expect me to come running. No, Jupiter,” she repeated, though it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself.

“Star… please…” I reached out to her, but she was already standing by the door still hanging off its hinges. “Give me a chance to explain.”

“Go to bed, Jupiter,” she exhaled wearily, refusing to meet my eye. I didn’t push it.

I passed her, stopping briefly to make sure the door was safe and drop a kiss on her head. “Sleep tight, Marn.”

I didn’t turn around, just made my way to the bed and slipped between the sheets. I waited for the other door to click shut, and only when it didn’t come did I lift my head from my pillow to see a shard of dim light shining through from her room.

She’d left it ajar.

I smiled into the darkness. I was taking that as a win.

Hopefully she’d be less hostile to me tomorrow, especially as I’d saved the news about the fact we now had to work together.

Because the reason the guys no longer need to see her? Coach had appointed me club liaison. And for the foreseeable future, I would be the only team player working with Doctor Marnie Matthews.

8

MARNIE

Present Day

A vaguely familiar, burly looking man was waiting outside my office. I pulled my glasses back down to my nose.

Burly, and fit.

I’d always thought the astronauts program at N.A.S.A. demonstrated the pinnacle of physical fitness, with bodies that could withstand G-Force six, zero gravity, and months at a time in space. But astronauts and baseball players are not the same. For the past two weeks I’d been surrounded by guys who kept their bodies in check for a living, and if the guy standing here with the lethal set of biceps crossed over his chest like they’d be comfortable down at the shooting range was anything to go by, fitness wasn’t mutually exclusive to The Lions’ forty-man roster.

Fit seemed to be the requirement for working here.

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