33. Super Boyfriend
33
SUPER BOYFRIEND
Maddox
Perched on the edge of my seat, praying silently to anyone, I watch, strung tight. And after thirty awful seconds, Zane rises slowly to his knees. The pitcher—Cohen from the Comets—offers him a hand. Zane waves him off, shaking his wrist instead, then cradling it.
My muscles tense even more. This is bad. He’s hurt in the All-Star Game, so they’re going to pull him any second.
I lean into Adriana, whispering as I pass, “I’ve got to go see him.”
Adriana shoos me away. “Go see your man,” she says quietly.
Zane’s Mister Durable. He’s Mister Steady. He’s not had an injury in more than three years. He’s terrified of getting hurt. He’ll be freaking out whether this is small or big. I have to go to him. Calm him. Comfort him.
The trainer trots from the dugout to Zane.
The Los Angeles trainers—as the host team—will check his wrist. See if anything’s broken or sprained. My sweet, worried man will think the worst.
Pulse rocketing, I bolt, race up the steps two by two, then nearly smack into Vance and Jesse at the top.
Vance’s eyes are wide, his jaw open. He flaps his arm to the field. “Holy smokes. Did you see that?”
“I did,” I bite out. No time for small talk.
“You gonna check on our guy?”
Our guy? No, he’s my guy. He’s my boyfriend. He’s the big love of my life.
Fuck the email. Fuck the process. Fuck everything else in the world but living and loving without fear.
“Yes, I’m going to see him. But not because he’s our client. I’m going to see him because I fell in love with him. You’ll get an email from me tomorrow morning. But I’ll sum it up now—I’m quitting. I can’t represent him anymore or work at CTM because of this. And I need to go.”
Vance blinks. Sputters. Spits out a, “What?”
“Thanks for everything,” I call out as I run, since I’m not waiting to chat more. I bound down the concourse, weaving through crowds, passing the concessions, cutting to the VIP entrance and flashing my access pass to security. I head down the elevator to take me to the clubhouse level.
Once I’m down there, I spot the Dragons PR guy making his way to the training room too. “Owen,” I call out.
The friendly guy with glasses stops, tilts his head. “Hey, Maddox.”
I catch up to him in seconds. “I need to see Zane. He’s my boyfriend,” I blurt out.
Owen’s eyes flicker with surprise. “Oh. Okay. Cool. I’m going too,” he says, then I clap his shoulder and run ahead of him, catching a glimpse of a purple jersey, a pair of strong shoulders, dark hair in the corridor in front of me.
Zane’s turning into the room.
My heart pounds with the fierce knowledge that I want and I need to be the one to comfort him. I jog down the concrete hallway, my footsteps echoing. I pull up in the doorway just as Zane’s scooting up onto a table next to the trainer. He raises his face. Meets my eyes. He’s…mystified. Like I’ve stepped out of a mirage in the opening sequence of a movie or something.
“You’re here,” he whispers across the room.
With quick strides, I close the distance, curl a gentle hand on his shoulder. He sighs into my touch. “I had to see you. Are you okay?”
He frowns. “It hurts, Mad. I hope it’s not broken,” he chokes out.
My throat tightens. I turn to the trainer. “You’ll do an X-ray right away?”
“Of course,” the young man with the mustache says, inspecting Zane’s wrist.
The first baseman leans against me, resting his head against my side. I wrap an arm around him and kiss the top of his soft hair, sweaty and messy from the game.
“Let me get the doctor,” the trainer says, then steps out as Owen walks in. But Owen quickly takes the temperature of the room and says, “Be right back.”
Once he’s gone, Zane looks up at me. “The trainer’s getting the doctor,” he repeats, his eyes wide, his voice wavering.
I run my hand through his hair. “It’s protocol, sweetheart,” I tell him.
He swallows, maybe embarrassed he’s so worried. He turns to me, resting his face against my chest. “Stay with me,” he whispers.
“I’m not leaving you,” I reassure him.
He takes a big breath. When he lifts his face again, he knits his brow. “Hey. What the hell are you doing here?” The question is full of wonder. “How did you pull this off?” It’s just hit him that I’m here with him in public, comforting him. “You’re not Super Agent right now. You’re…Super Boyfriend.”
I can’t resist smiling. “I had to see you. I told Vance I quit. As in, tonight .”
His green eyes sparkle. “You did?”
“Sometimes you just have to go after what you want fearlessly. With everything you have. I wanted to be with you and make sure you were okay,” I say with confidence and certainty.
“Have I told you how much I love you?”
“Feel free to say it again.”
“I love you,” he says softly, then pulls me down next to him, exactly where I want to be.
“Nothing’s wrong.” The young doctor with the soprano voice gestures to the X-ray a little later. She also did an MRI. “All clear. Not even a fracture, a sprain, or a muscle tear. But take a couple days off,” she says to the patient.
Zane laughs ironically. “I have the next few days off.”
“Good,” she says drily. “Then you’ll probably continue your Mister Durable streak. Since that was quite a lucky fall.”
When Zane looks my way, a smile tips his lips, then lights his entire handsome face. “Yeah, it sure was a lucky fall,” he says to me, a little woozy, a little slap-happy.
He’s not taken any drugs besides ibuprofen, but I think he’s high on the good news. The lack of an injury can do that to a man.
“Walk me out, hottie,” he says to me with a wink as he rises.
As we head through the corridor so he can rejoin the team in the dugout, he says, “You know, there was an empty seat next to my brother earlier.”
“That so?”
“That is very so,” he says, then gives me the row number and the section. “If you want to watch with my other special guests.”
I arch a playful brow. “I’m your special guest now?”
He stops in the corridor, gives me the fiercest look. “You threw down for me last night. You threw down for me again tonight. You’re my special guest. The most special.”
He plants a possessive kiss on my lips before he turns into the tunnel. Once he’s gone, I run a finger over my bottom lip. I can still feel his kiss. It’s in my bones. It’s under my skin.
I make my way back up to the concourse, then through the crowds at the Bandits ballpark. Along the way, I text Adriana.
Maddox: Zane’s going to be fine. I’ll be joining the Archers. Let’s catch up soon.
Adriana: We better. Vance was sputtering when he returned. He was all… Maddox is with Zane and he quit, and, and, and…
Maddox: Sorry to leave you with that.
Adriana: Please! I can handle him no problem. I mean, I saw it coming last night. But you still owe me details, friend.
Gossip isn’t my thing, so I won’t share all. But she deserves something.
Maddox: I fell in love with him. I’m happy .
Adriana: Stahp, stahp. I won’t cry next to my boss.
With a smile, I send her a Thank you for everything , then put the phone away.
As I head down the steps to the third-base line seats, I squeeze past a few fans, then grab the free seat next to Gage. I introduce myself to him right away. “I’m Maddox. I’m seeing your brother,” I say, loving the sound of all those words. And these too. “He’s going to be just fine.”
Gage smiles, bright and genuine. “He texted me and told me. And he told me you were with him too. But, honestly, I figured that out on my own. I saw you take off when he got hit. Recognized you because I looked you up when he told me last night he fell for you,” he says, and my whole soul lights up.
Then Eliza pipes up. “My uncle is really tough.”
“He sure is,” I say proudly, and we watch the rest of the game together. When it ends, with Zane’s league losing, the players come out on the field one more time to wave to the crowd, then fan out to talk to reporters, to head to the dugout, to goof off.
But not all of them. The first baseman for the Dragons points my way. Then he trots over to our seats. He’s sporting a cocky grin. The same one he had the night I met him. “Get over here,” he commands.
I don’t deny his orders often. With a giddy heart, I make my way to the edge of the stands, a smile matching his.
“You want something from me?” I ask playfully.
He leans in, offering me his lips. “I got hurt in the game, and I need you to give me a kiss to make it better,” Zane says.
“You are such a ham,” I deadpan, but I cup his cheeks and kiss him before the entire baseball stadium.
Because he’s my ham.