Page 106 of Wild Catch
“Are you kidding?” I grab his hand holding the can and pull it back over his thigh. “Keep going.”
“But—”
“Logan Kim, I will douse that whole can on you myself if I must.”
He sighs but keeps going, and after a while he asks, “Are you okay?”
“Me?” I blink hard. “I’m not the one who got pelted by a ball going at a million miles per hour.”
“No, but you got Lewis Kim’ed and that’s way worse.”
I fully turn to stare at his profile and he pretends like his sole focus remains on the spray.
I think I know what that avoidance means now. Logan doesn’t want me to peek into his eyes or I might get a glimpse of what’s really going through his head. It must not be pleasant.
“I get you now.”
He tenses and lifts his face. “What?”
My lips curl into a sad little smile that captures his attention, and it’s what makes his finger stop pressing on the spray bottle nozzle. “I understand why you warned me off,” I whisper.
Logan turns his face away and I watch the powerful muscles of his neck as they bulge out. His throat works a heavy swallow. “I told you, I’m screwed up. You don’t need that drama in your life, especially not after your ex?—”
Leaning on my right hand, I twist to hold his jaw and turn his face just a bit. I press my lips on his cheek, right on the bare skin over the sharp line of his stubble. Goodness, he smells so good that I can’t help lingering. When I pull away, I put a little more pressure on his jaw so that he doesn’t turn away yet, and run my fingers over the soft stubble.
“You are so not like your relatives, you silly man.” I smile. “And thank goodness for that.”
Logan’s eyes widen. “I?—”
“Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds,” Hope says, poking her head out of the tunnel beside me. “There’s like thirty seconds to the next inning and Logan’s catching services are necessary.”
“Right!” I squeak, dropping my hand. “You better go.”
It almost seems like Logan wants to protest, but with a grunt, he grabs onto his pants and gets up. I watch from the floor as he bends forward to pull up the garment. He glances at me as he tucks his shirt into his pants, which strikes me as a scene that should be illegal, but leaves after Hope without saying another word.
I grab the Bengay can and shake it a bit. It seems like he didn’t empty it on himself. Pulling my team polo up, I free my chest to spray before the bruise starts forming on my chest.
CHAPTER36
LOGAN
Inever thought I’d say this but coming out on the other side of the Eagles series feels more monumental than winning the World Series, and yet it doesn’t solve anything. My brother is still a piece of shit who has now aired all my dirty laundry, my team knows it, and I can’t ever face Rosalina Mena again—and it’s not because she saw my embarrassing game boxers.
Oh, and my ex agent keeps calling me like some kind of ex girlfriend who still wants a piece of me.
I’m trying to jog on the treadmill at the Orlando Wild gym and Kaplan keeps blowing up my phone. For the nth time, I click the red button instead of picking up the call.
“Dude, why don’t you block him?” Rivera asks on my right, panting as he runs uphill.
On my left, Starr suggests, “Or turn off your phone, at least. The buzzing is so annoying.”
My upper lip trembles like a wolf about to start snarling. “It’s way more fun for him to know I’m expressly rejecting every call.”
“Oof.”
“Cold.”
From the treadmill on Starr’s left, Machado chimes in, “What are you gonna do now that you need a new agent? Because I can recommend mine, she’s awesome and really ambitious.”
