Page 90 of Wild Pitch
She snaps her jaw shut and recovers. “Let me guess, Lucky Rivera.”
“Bingo.” I sigh and pull up the chair across the meeting table from hers. “Good morning, sugar. I heard you wanted to see me about thisSPORTYgig.”
“I—Yes. May I suggest you don’t wear the chicken socks for the photoshoot?”
“I will consider it out of the goodness of my heart.” I lace my fingers together and place my hands on the table. “Can I ask you something else before we start on the topic of the photoshoot?”
“Sure.” She tilts her head, shiny blonde hair falling over her shoulder.
“How’s Hope doing?”
“Oh, it’s been touch and go—Did you just call her Hope?”
I lean forward sharply. “Touch and go?”
“Well, she had to go to urgent care last night because?—”
I jerk to my chicken feet so fast that my chair topples over. We both stare at each other in equal shock at my reaction. Clearing my throat, I pick up the chair and mumble apologies. When I meet her eyes again, there’s a weird little glint to them.
Winters leans back. “I heard you’re on light duty today, which is why I was hoping to hash out the specifics about the photoshoot with you but…” She shrugs most elegantly, if I may say. “I wouldn’t mind if you had to step away from the facilities for a personal emergency.”
My eyes narrow slightly. “Am I understanding this right? You’re giving me an excuse to?—”
“I know her dad’s address, if you want to go see her.”
I stand there, my heart racing under my sweatshirt, doing my best not to show outwardly how eager I am for this information. So I can go see her. And make sure she’s okay. Return the favor, even. Although I don’t know how to cook. But I could wipe herforehead with some wet cloth like they do in the movies, or something.
“And would that be okay?” I ask carefully. “Giving me her address.”
“I think so,” she says, bobbing her head with every word. “I have yet to meet a guy who is as kind and well mannered as you. But just so we’re clear, I’ll gut you with this pen if you hurt her.” She lifts up a fancy pen, holding it like it’s a knife.
“I respect that,” I say, meaning it.
“Good. Now, write it down.”
CHAPTER 29
HOPE
Ablock from my childhood home, there’s a park where I used to come with my older brother to play ball together. In classic Florida fashion, it has a natural retention pond in the middle with occasional alligator sightings. Us Florida people don’t really care, though, and we’ll even put benches around the ponds like our main sport is waiting for a gator to show up to test our zigzag running skills.
Currently, I’m parked at one such benches, sitting cross legged and taking most of the span of it while I munch on some trail mix. Tomorrow will be my first day back at work and it’ll kick off with a flight, so I need to store as much energy as I can.
The problem is that it feels like that’s all I’ve done the past week, and I’m tired of looking at the same four walls all the time. So here I am, contemplating the immortality of a crab, as a weird saying in Spanish goes.
It’s going very well, if I can say so myself. The afternoon sun is warm but there’s a breeze, and a few birds nearby chirp in the cutest damn way. I almost feel like I’m in a Jane Austen movie.
Until someone abruptly shoves my leg and sits right next to me.
“What the—” The rest of the words die in my mouth—rather, it opens wide enough for a fly to come in. I freeze at the opposite end of the bench, shrank with my knees up and arms hugging my baggy of trail mix as if this was what the invader was here for.
Instead, none other than Cade stretches an arm over the backrest of the bench, manspreading obnoxiously as he watches me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I shriek, starting to recover from the initial shock.
Propping his opposite elbow on the armrest, he rests the side of his face on his fist—still looking at me. “I should ask you that. Why aren’t you at home if you’ve felt bad enough to go to urgent care? Moreover, why did I not know?”
I splutter for a moment, confusion reigning over my mind. “I—I was bored at—What urgent care?”
