His eyes meet mine. “I haven’t been a good man, Francesca. I’ve done a lot of stupid things, I’ve almost died more than once. I’ve alienated my family at times, lost friends, ruined opportunities. I’ve wasted a lot of my life on booze, and sometimes drugs. You should know that about me. It’s my past, but it’s part of who I am. This job, what I’m doing here in Florida, it’s my chance at something good. And … I’m glad you’re here. For as big or little a part you want to play, I’m glad I get to spend time with you.”
Sinclair was pretty close-lipped last night after we’d screwed each other’s brains out. He avoided most of my questions, choosing to focus the pillow talk interrogation on me. But I suppose this is his way of showing me a piece of him. This is his way of helping me get to know him.
And clearly, it’s his way of saying he wants more than what we’ve been giving to each other. Do I want that too?
“I’m glad I get to spend some time with you, too. And just because you have a past, well, that doesn’t define you. How you choose to behave, who you choose to be every morning your feet hit the floor, that’s what matters. That is what my mom used to tell me, and I believe it.”
The sun glints off the ever-flowing sea, the day as beautiful as it can get here on Sanibel.
“So, you’re saying I’m worth the trouble, huh?” That devilish grin is back, his confessions seemingly over for now.
“I’m saying we’ll see.” I cock an eyebrow at him. “But whatever we’re doing, know that it doesn’t bleed into the workplace.”
“Are you worried about protecting your rep?” Sinclair jokes.
My expression grows serious. “Yes, I’m worried. This year is a huge opportunity for me. I want to prove myself to the Pistons organization, I want to move up to even bigger and better things. And I don’t need anyone at the ballpark gossiping about my personal life. I don’t need them staring at us whenever we talk, or whispering about what we’re doing.”
Sinclair reaches over, running a finger up and down my bare arm. It’s scary how fast I’ve become accustomed to his touch, how much I like it, crave it.
“I would never do anything to jeopardize that for you. Like I said, this is a fresh start for me, too. I don’t need anyone in my personal life. And I admire and respect how hard you work, I’d never want to ruin that. We’ll keep this out of the workplace. But, you’re saying there can be a this?”
He sounds so sweet, being so unsure of what my answer will be.
I roll my eyes, feeling very much like a swooning girl as I lean over to place a peck on his cheek. “I wouldn’t keep sleeping with you if I wasn’t interested. Let’s just keep it casual. Hang out. See what happens.”
“And definitely keep fucking.” His eyes dilate as he adds a bullet point to my definition of what we’re doing.
“Gosh, look at us having a serious discussion on a day that was all about beach and fun in the sun.”
“Well, get your perfect ass in the water then.” Sinclair kicks up sand as he pushes up and starts sprinting to the ocean’s edge.
I follow, loving the way the wind whips my hair as I arc and dive into an oncoming wave.
When I surface, Sinclair is there, pulling me to him. Our limbs wrap around each other as we move with the undulating waves.
We’re anchored together, this new layer of our relationship surrounding us.
11
Frankie
The clank of metal on metal fills my ears, with the background noise of DMX blaring in someone’s headphones.
Fans overhead whir in overdrive, trying to cool down a room that is naturally always going to be ten degrees hotter than anywhere else in the building. Not only because there are a bunch of sweaty men sucking up its oxygen, but because this is also Florida.
I focus on Walker Callahan’s form, how he’s squatting and pushing back up with the two hundred pounds of weight on his shoulders. Knees not too far over his toes, thighs not moving too quickly, holding the position, shoulders square, and head up. My brain ticks off the proper movements like they’re second nature, because they are.
This is my domain, my favorite place to spend time, and the soundtrack my mind plays on repeat all day.
“Good, Walker, really strong squat set. Now make this last one count, hold on the down for five seconds.” I watch as he preps and moves into his last rep.
“Show off,” Clark cracks, making a lewd gesture to his friend in the giant floor-to-ceiling mirror in front of the squat racks.
“Shut it, moron.” Walker grunts, coming up slowly and then dropping the bar off his back.
It lands with a thud on the ground, and I clap my hands twice. “Great set. You’re looking even better than you did at the beginning of the week.”
“You’re kicking my ass, Coach. But it’ll be worth it.” Walker picks up his water jug and chugs three long gulps.
I smile smugly to myself. “Yes, it will be. Make sure you tell your teammates that.”
“Hey, I appreciate how you kick my ass.” Clark’s southern accent is all smooth charm.
“We all know you’re a slacker in the gym.” I tsk at him.
Walker booms out a laugh. “Shit, you had his number from day one, Frankie. He hates conditioning.”
Clark eyes us both like we’re some kind of traitors. “I just enjoy being out on the field more. Or doing things other than baseball. Some of us have a life outside of this stadium.”
“Not me,” I answer cheerfully, though that’s not completely true.
Most of my time outside of here is spent with Sinclair. At the beach, in my bed, eating out, or hitting up a movie or something. The other night, we even watched a game here at the stadium from the nose bleeds, where no one could see us. It’s been a month and a half of us being us, and it was as serious as I’ve ever gotten with a guy.
Not that I’ve been to his apartment, which I think is odd. Maybe it’s just a rundown little rental that he is embarrassed to have me see since it’s temporary. Though now that I think about it, I have no clue where his permanent residence is. Or if he has one. Maybe he just likes coming over to my apartment because it’s homey. I can’t complain; I like not having to go anywhere or wake up without my stuff.
“Come on, you have to have a boyfriend, Frankie. Right?” Clark drawls, smirking at me.
Oh Lord, this man is too good-looking for his own good. No, he knows how hot he is. And he uses it.
“None of your business.” I roll my eyes. “But I don’t date players, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You’re too independent and intelligent for him, anyway.” Walker smacks his friend upside the head. “Stop hitting on the coach who is going to get us in the best shape of our life.”
“Just because you found your soul mate, doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t still looking.” Clark pouts.
“You are not looking for a soul mate. I waited six years for Hannah. You willing to wait six years for a woman?” Walker smiles knowingly at his friend.
“Well …” Clark hedges, chewing his lip nervously.