“He doesn’t want me in public though. He doesn’t want me after the games or in the stands, where everyone can see us. He doesn’t want me at the fundraisers or the awards dinners. He sure as shit doesn’t want to take me on a date since he’s never once asked. And to be kept in the shadows, it’s not enough for me. Not anymore.”
“You know he brings his dad to all those stupid baseball dinners,” she said.
It was true. Cole had brought his dad to every baseball banquet and fundraiser since he started on the team, but I expected that. His dad would, and should, be there with him.
“All the players bring their parents. But they bring their girlfriends too.”
Silence.
I knew exactly what Lauren was thinking but didn’t want to say out loud, so I said it for the both of us, “See? I’m not his girlfriend. If you like someone, you want to be with them. In public.” I added for emphasis, “Around other people.”
“He likes you. I don’t care what he says, Chris. Cole likes you. It’s obvious. And not only to me,” Lauren tried to reinforce her opinion, but it was too late.
Cole had inadvertently confessed his truth tonight, whether he had meant to or not, whether he even realized it or not. And I’d heard him loud and clear.
“He doesn’t like me, Laur. He just doesn’t want anyone else to have me. And that’s not the same thing.”
I was one hundred percent done with him. For good this time.
Play Hard, Practice Harder
Cole
I got to practice early, like I always did. Chance was already here, which was no surprise. So was Mac Davies, our first baseman. For as big of a Jack Carter-in-training as Mac was off the field, he was serious about the game, our team, and his performance on it. It was why I liked him. He worked hard. And if things weren’t going well, he worked even harder. Which was exactly why the three of us, give or take a pitcher or two, were in the locker room and on the field before anyone else on the team.
“You can’t let go of something you never had in the first place.” Christina’s words had been tormenting me since the moment she delivered them, playing in a loop in my head.
I’d watched her inhale a single breath before walking away, and I wondered if that would be the last breath I’d ever watch her take. I would deserve it. I considered the fact that maybe, this time, I’d actually pushed her too far. Everyone had a breaking point, and I was pretty sure I’d found Christina’s.
In August, I’d been especially cruel. I wasn’t proud of the things I’d said to her, but it was all done out of necessity. Hell, I hadn’t even meant any of it, but if I didn’t make her go away, I was afraid that I’d prioritize her over baseball, and that scared the hell out of me. How could I have both? It didn’t seem like a possibility, so she had to go. Baseball wasn’t expendable, but the girl was. How fucked up was that? And even after all this time, making her go away hadn’t made me stop thinking about her. I still wanted her. I still missed her. And I hated myself for it.
I’d thought I’d put her away … shoved her in some box in my mind where I compartmentalized the other parts of my life, but seeing her last night had ripped it all wide open. She had been locked away tight, and now, she was out, ruining my nights and distracting my days. The very thing I’d been so desperately trying to avoid, and it was all happening anyway.
Some would call that ironic.
Lacing up my cleats, I pushed to a stand as Mac laughed from around the corner, suddenly appearing in my line of sight.
“How’s your face feel?” he asked, his surfer-looking blond hair flopping in front of his eyes before he moved it back and put on his hat.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “My face?” I asked before remembering that Christina had slapped me in front of everyone at the party last night. “Oh, it’s fine. Barely even stung,” I lied, rubbing a hand down my cheek where she’d struck me.
“Surprised you even noticed, considering the fact that you were glued to”—I paused, searching for the name of the girl I’d never seen before in my life—“some chick’s face.”
Chance laughed at that. “Mac sees everything,” he added.
“It’s true.” Mac nodded. “I do. Even if I’m making out with Bambi.” He stopped and shot us each a look. “Real name. Swear. I still see everything that’s going on around us. And I hear everything too.”
Mac was hinting at something, but I wasn’t sure what.
“You have something to say?” I figured I’d get straight to the point instead of beating around the bush. We weren’t a bunch of chicks here, leaving hints for one another to decipher.
“I’m not sure,” Mac started, taking a single step closer to me and lowering his voice in case anyone else came in. “I just overheard Logan talking about the girl who hit you. Christina, right? And I heard your name.” He paused. “More than once. Just sounded like he was up to something, is all,” he warned, and my skin prickled.
Logan LeDeoux. Grade A douche bag and bad-attitude extraordinaire.
We were both seniors this year, beginning together on the team as freshmen. But when I had gotten to start in the outfield over him, our friendship had quickly disintegrated. He hated me and made sure I knew it every chance he got, reminding me that he should be the one playing center field and not me. He celebrated my failures with a golf clap and a wicked grin and pouted over my successes. It was one of the worst feelings to know that a teammate, someone who was supposed to have your back, was secretly—or not so secretly—hoping for your demise.
“Who was he talking to?” Chance asked, and I knew that he hated Logan just as much as I did.
Chance had zero tolerance for guys who tore teams apart. We both considered him a cancer, but Coach Jackson obviously didn’t see it the same way; otherwise, he would cut him from the team.
Mac grabbed his glove and motioned for us to head out toward the field. “I’m not sure. I don’t think it was anyone on our team. Maybe some frat guy? I really don’t know.”
The air around me buzzed, my anger simmering just below the surface. I hated that Logan had been talking about Christina, even breathing her name. I couldn’t have cared less about whatever he was saying about me, but him talking about her made me uneasy.
“What are you thinking?” Chance asked as we stepped upstairs and into the daylight.
“I don’t want him anywhere near her,” I growled. “But there’s no time for that now. We need to focus.”
Chance and Mac both nodded as we picked up our bats and made our way toward the outdoor batting cages. Chance’s dad and our pitching coach was already there, setting up the machines.
“Rough night last night?” he asked, and the three of us shot each other looks like we were somehow about to be in trouble.
“I didn’t say anything,” Chance said before we could blame him.
“Oh, please. Like we didn’t do the exact same shit when I was here. Sunday nights after a home series? Yeah, we partied. Don’t act like that’s changed.” Coach Carter gave me a pat on the back. “Just don’t”—he stopped short and looked directly at Mac—“get anyone pregnant.”