Page 69 of Wild Pitch
I sigh. “Lucky, I get what you’re trying to?—”
“Shut up.” That snaps my mouth shut. “Listen to me. You raised yourself better than most people are raised by their parents. I’m not gonna accept any Cade Starr slander, not even from yourself.”
Casting my eyes down at the asphalt, I say, “Can we pretend like I never said shit?”
“No. I’m actually glad you spewed all that bullshit so it doesn’t fester anymore. Look at me, gringo.” I glare at him and he returns it even harder. “If you want her, don’t let anyone take her from under your nose. And don’t you dare talk yourself out of what you deserve.”
“I don’tdeserveher,” I grouch, balling my fists. “She’s her own person and doesn’t owe me crap.”
“Argh! I really want to punch you in the nose right now.”
Dryly, I say, “Fine, do it.”
“No. Your hard head would probably break my hand.” Grunting, he makes as if to walk away but then returns right back. “You fight for her, you hear me? And if you need help getting Logan out of the picture now, I’m here for you.”
“Whatever.”
“Not whatever.” He claws at my shoulder and stops me. “I’m here for you, Cade. For better or for worse.”
“Are you trying to marry me?” I joke to deflect.
Lucky frowns harder. “Clench your jaw tight because I’m gonna punch you now.”
I shrug out of his hold and jam my hands in my pockets. “Keep yapping all you want, I’m going home.”
He waits until I’m far enough, and right as a group of people are coming out of the restaurant, to scream, “I love you, man!”
I cringe and try to hide my face from the now giggling strangers. It makes me rush to my truck but then once I’m inside, the fact that I’m not safe here either punches me in the nose. And that is because of the lingering smell of vanilla.
My eyes fall on the empty passenger seat where a certain athletic trainer sat for a good part of the afternoon, enough that the scent of her skin still permeates the air. Unbidden, my nostrils flare trying to absorb it all in one go.
A weird laugh bubbles up my throat, and it doesn’t stop. I’ve finally gone and lost my last marbles. Heat rushes up and settles on my face and I don’t know if it’s residual embarrassment, effort from the unhinged laugh, or what. I bury my face in my hands, waiting until the fit subsides, and rest my forehead on the steering wheel.
Muffled by my hands, I ask, “What the hell am I gonna do with myself?” But as I search for that answer, I have to make sure not to act weird around Garcia and Kim, no matter what it takes.
CHAPTER 23
HOPE
“Oh, yeah. That’s the spot.” Miller moans as I apply the right kind of pressure with the massage gun on the stiff spot of his trapezius. It made him throw weaker than a pee wee during a base steal an inning ago.
“Sit still, dude,” I demand and he braces himself against the railing.
Behind us, the dugout is a mess of activity. The New York Eagles is one of the best teams in the league, and one of the oldest in the entire North American league. Playing for it was probably the childhood dream of half of the guys in our team, and the fact that we’ve kept them to zero runs in this game, when their lineup includes superstars like Lewis Kim, frankly has all of us losing our collective minds. It explains things like how my massage gun has never been more active during any other Spring Training game, because the players are just so tense.
I guess it doesn’t help that we also haven’t scored a single run. Even one such celebration would put us in a different mood.
But then Beau clears his throat, and that stops all the voices at once. I watch from the corner of my eye how he motions at someone behind me, and then speaks.
“Starr. Come here, son.”
I confess that I pay a smidge less attention to Miller. I’m not too concerned about it though because he also sets his attention on whatever is about to unfold.
The air behind me stirs, leaving behind a scent I’m now very familiar with. It’s warm skin, sweat, and the remnants of a spicy aftershave that I never noticed until one day he spilled too much of it on his clothes. Now I can catch it even when he’s far from me.
Other players make way for Starr to reach Beau, who stands with one foot atop the stairs out of the dugout. Pitcher stops before manager and we all lean in. I turn off the massage gun so I can snoop.
“Are you ready?” Beau asks.
