Page 119 of Wild Pitch
I pocket my phone and hurry to my room. If it hadn’t been for the stalker, I would’ve come home to replace the stuff in my suitcase and duffel bag, dirty clothes for clean. We have a road trip this morning and a flight right after that, so I need to pack now. It’s why I had to get up so early.
My head spins with everything that’s happened in the past twenty four hours, but as I turn into a tornado in my room around the luggage I have splayed open on the floor, I choose tofocus on the best parts. All of them are about Hope and what this turning point means for us.
One thing is for sure, I’m not going back to being her dating coach or just another player in the roster.
The coast is still clear once I drive out of my house, but I wait to make sure the garage door is fully closed before taking off. My eyes bounce all around the neighborhood because right around this time is when the stalker started following me around while jogging. I know home ownership is public records in the state of Florida, but I can’t help wondering if maybe the stalker lives nearby. Otherwise it’d feel even more unhinged for someone to drive a long way just to stalk some random guy.
I’ve never been more relieved to merge into heavy Orlando morning traffic than I do after leaving my neighborhood. The clock is ticking a bit too close to rendezvous time at the ballpark, and I’d really like to not get written off by Beau just when I’m starting to make a place for myself on the team.
“Whew,” I say once I’m the very last one to the bus, finding a spot next to Lucky. “Made it right in the nick of time.”
His eyebrows rise as he runs his eyes up and down my frame. “Bro, why are you wearing the same clothes as last night?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Is it juicy?”
I cut a sharp look at him. “Now would be a great time for you to choose maturity.”
“Bo-o-ring.” His eyes deviate to the front. “Oh, incoming.”
“Incoming wha…” I’m unable to get the last letter out when Hope climbs aboard, carrying the bags full of snacks and drinks. I know it’s part of her job but I hate how none of her coworkers pick up some of the slack.
I guess the good news is that her lips aren’t swollen anymore.
“Dude, wipe that look from your face if you don’t want anyone to figure out you were with her last night,” Lucky whispers to me.
“What look?”
He points at my face. “That starving man look.”
I duck my face because I have no defense. That’s exactly how I’m feeling right now.
Clearing my throat, I reach around and tap Kim’s arm, since he’s sitting by himself right in front of me. He twists toward the aisle and takes off his Beats headphones. “What?”
“Got a piece of paper and pen I can borrow?” I ask.
His face twists, probably about to tear me a new one for bothering him, when he reasons that the quickest way to go back to listening to his tunes is to simply do me the solid. Grunting, he disappears for a moment until his hand pokes out, offering a small notepad and a pencil.
“Thanks,” I chirp with exaggerated joy. It earns me a few choice words.
I rip a blank sheet out and jot down a quick note before returning the implements to Kim. Lucky watches in silence as I fold over the paper, and even as Hope finally reaches us to offer our snacks.
I admire her professionalism for keep a perfectly straight face as she hands over a little snack and drink pouch to Lucky, and then one to me. That is, until I grab her wrist. That finally makes her look down and meet my eye, and her breath hitches as I slide the folded up note into her hand. For a wild second I debate whether to bend over and kiss her hand, but that would get us in trouble.
Instead, I let my grip slide and release her. Her throat works with a heavy swallow and she moves on without further ado, carrying the note that saysLet’s talk somewhere quiet when wecan, and leaving me to remember the taste of the skin at the base of her neck.
Settling with his snackies, Lucky says, “I expect a full report of whatever happened.”
I lean back and close my eyes, eager to pick where my dreams left off instead.
CHAPTER 39
HOPE
Somewhere quietends up being this random bar we escape to after dinner at the hotel. It’s lined up with pool tables, dartboards, and old school arcade machines that make a hell of a lot of noise. Rose, who was cleared to travel with us for the next stretch of games, found this place after a quick search of local spots for a night out.
The plan was simple: gather a group, come to this joint, and find some corner where Cade and I could finally have our talk.
