Page 20 of This Is Love
I grimace, eyes flicking to Logan. He’d be the other one who tells me exactly what he thinks… only I don’t usually have the patience to listen when he speaks. Anyone birthed by the woman he calls mother doesn’t deserve a fucking thing from me. My vision darkens at the edges for a second as I think back to Mom’s upset last night. Who the fuck in their right mind triesto orchestrate a family dinner to include her estranged stepson and the woman she stole her new husband from? It’s fucking weird. We arenotone big, happy family. Any angle I look at the situation from, it’s fucked. And to think Jamie probably okayed it with my dad, too. He fucking knows what he did, knows Mom would never in a million years want to breathe the same air as his new wife.
The pair of them wrecked our lives. What’s so hard to understand?
I heave out a breath, stepping back into place on the mound. There’s only a small portion of my mind that’s on Alexander, who’s still waiting on me. He lifts his glove, awaiting my pitch, watching me with eagle eyes. The last thing I should allow to happen right now is a loss of focus… but I can’t fucking help it today.
My gaze connects with Logan’s at the far side of the bullpen’s bench, where he’s observing me while awaiting his turn. He cocks his head to the side, studying me as if he can see right inside my head. My stepbrother has seen sides of me I didn’t even know existed. Knows things about me I didn’t have a fucking clue about until he dragged them to the surface.
And goddammit, I have no desire to be here right now. Lack of sleep and the heaviness of everything we dealt with last night and this morning is getting to me. I wind up and whip a fastball to Alexander. It’s a bad pitch, and any decent hitter would have taken advantage of it. I give a dejected sigh.Fuck.
“You going to stop throwing meatballs anytime soon, Ledger?” Coach’s sharp tone snatches my attention, and I pivot, grimacing at the irritated expression coating his features.
“Sorry, Coach,” I grind out, knowing he’s right but still struggling to keep my tone in check.
“No sorries. Just pitch like you know how.” He shifts, saying something to Logan. Who knows what, but probably tellinghim that as long as he doesn’t fuck up today, he’ll pitch at the upcoming game against Kingston University. That’s what I’d expect anyway based on who’s pitched the previous couple games. Coach wouldn’t put me in to pitch even if itwassupposed to be me. Goddammit.
I wet my lips, closing my eyes for a quick second to regroup. But it doesn’t fucking help because all I can see in my mind’s eye are Logan and Rya. Her crying, which is a punch to the gut, and him telling me I’m a good fucking boy. Fucked if we didn’t screw things all to hell. I don’t even know what the fuck I was thinking. Things are so twisted in my head, I can’t keep up.
To be clear, I still hate him. But I fucking love how that hate turns into something so animalistic and real.
Opening my eyes again, I attempt to concentrate on the pitch I’m about to send Alexander’s way. I physically see the signal he flashes me from his crouched position, but my brain isn’t absorbing it. Blinking hard, I shake my head at his suggestion, one after another, even though he knows my pitching strengths better than anyone. I’m too distracted by nothing more than my own thoughts and the rising dread that creeps from the pit of my stomach to think clearly.
Just beyond him, those crystal-clear blue eyes of Logan’s are on me, and they hold knowledge of things I don’t need other people being aware of. He’s silently judging me right now. For my shitty pitching? For not wanting to tell Rya about fucking around behind her back? For not saying more? Oh my fucking god, I can’t get my head straight. While I’m careening toward a massive cliff, my stepbrother’s gaining the upper hand. And I can’t fucking have that.
The bitch of it is Logan seemed to notice last night just how affected I was by what happened to Rya. He fuckin’ knows I feel something for her and that is seriously demented, considering how this all started.
Trying to explain what ticks around in my head leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I never would have predicted I’d begin to fall for Rya and her sassy smiles so damn easily. Never would have thought I’d find myself wanting more than anything to be the man she thought I was. She’s a sweet dream that I have no fucking right to claim for myself.
When she discovers the truth—and I do feel like there’s no stopping that from happening now—that’ll be it. She’ll be done with me.
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I blink hard, trying to make myself focus as Alexander does his best to communicate with me. I heave out a sigh, stepping back for a second to regroup.
I have an absurd urge to walk out of this bullpen and go find Rya so I can come clean about everything. But the problem with telling her what’s in my head is that I can’t be completely sure what would shoot from my mouth… especially since I have so much turmoil swirling within me. Humiliation streaks through me at the degree of jealousy Logan inspires in me. He has everything. I’ve had nothing. And now my actions threaten to tear Rya from me, too. I work my jaw to the side. There’s not a chance in hell she won’t hate me, not for howwebegan nor forwhy. If she finds out about that, the fact that she caught me with Logan’s dick down my throat will become insignificant. It’s all so fucking laughable I almost can’t contain my sick mirth.
“Ledger, get your ass over here. Owen, you’re up next.” Coach Kimball claps his meaty hands loudly, and I disguise the sigh of relief I let filter from my throat.
Back at the bench, I pull my hoodie over my head and stuff my hands into the front pocket. It’s bitterly cold today, which isn’t an oddity for mid-February, but I wish we could fast-forward to April. I should be watching Owen’s pitches, but I’m too distracted by Logan, who’s now standing not three feet fromme. Edging my way closer, I cast a look at him from the corner of my eye. “See you remembered your fucking fancy hand warmer today.”
Logan’s jaw works to the side as he turns to study my profile. “Yeah. Well, I couldn’t expect my dickhead stepbrother to bail me out a second time. He kinda has it out for me for some unknown fucking reason.” His lips purse.
“So, that’s the game we’re playing?” My brow raises.
“It’s only a game to him. It’s my life he’s fucking with.”
I crane my neck to the side, glowering at him. “I’m fucking withyourlife? You’ve been fucking with my life since the minute you and your—” I clench my teeth together, slamming to a stop. “Whatever.”
Eyes narrowing, Logan tilts his head to the side. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re the one who was using my best friend to get at me. I don’t claim to know what the fuck you’re thinking, but if you hadn’t started all this fucking bullshit, she wouldn’t be hurting the way she is.”
“Fucking bullshit?”
“Yeah. And I hate to fucking tell you, Jax. You’re like fucking spaghetti, you prick.”
My brain scrambles, and I slide my tongue along my lower lip, considering his words as I stare at him. “Spaghetti.” It’s not even a question because I can’t fathom what the fuck spaghetti has to do with jack shit.
He turns, eyes practically burning into mine. “Yeah, as in you’re straight like spaghetti until your dick’swet, then you aren’t straight at all.” His lips quirk. “No sense in denying it. Not since whatever this insanity is between us”—he whips his hand out of the warmer and smacks the back of it against my chest—“has now fuckedbothof us over.”
Before he can pull his arm back, heat rushes through my veins, and my hand darts out fast like a viper’s strike, graspinghis wrist. I yank him close to me, so close the warm puffs of his breath tickle my lips. “Listen to me, dickweed?—”
“Ledger.” Coach’s voice at my back has a strange quality to it, and I automatically release the hold I have on Logan and pivot on my heel. Kimball’s eyes are intent on me, his face a mask I can’t read.
