The Winner Takes All (Complete Collection)

38. Surprise Me

38

SURPRISE ME

Gunnar

A Week Later

On a warm late-September night in San Francisco, the Dragons destroy the San Diego Devils, putting us one win away from a playoff spot. I trot off the field with my teammates, high on possibility as I strut into the clubhouse, high-fiving Zane at his stall.

“Tomorrow,” I say to my buddy. “We’re going to bring it.”

He fist-bumps back. “Let’s do it.”

I strip out of my dirt-streaked uniform, toss it into the laundry bin, then make my way to the showers, washing off the game.

As I’m getting dressed Zane wanders over to my stall, buttoning his shirt. “You want to grab a bite to eat? Holden and Declan are in too,” he says as he finishes the last button.

I do love hanging out with my teammates, but it’s eleven o’clock. I have my first photo shoot for Rafe Rodman tomorrow before the game. We’ll be taking shots that will be in the pre-production materials. Teasers for the big campaign.

“Nah, I need my beauty sleep,” I tell him. “I’ve got the shoot tomorrow.”

Zane’s eyes flicker with curiosity. “You think he’s going to be there?”

“You never know.” I wish I could strip the hope out of my voice, but I can’t because I’m dying for him to show up tomorrow. “I shouldn’t want to see him,” I confess.

Zane knows all the details. When I walked away from Rafe at the San Francisco Ferry Building two weeks ago, I grabbed lunch with my friend and told him what went down. I asked him to be my accountability partner. To help me stay strong. He said yes, but that it would be damn hard for him because, in his words, he’s a love supporter, not a break-up supporter.

But he’s been nothing but helpful, especially when I was tempted to text Rafe. Instead, I’d turn to Zane, and he’d say something funny or amuse me with a stat about baseball I didn’t even realize existed, or he’d find a fun new restaurant for us to try on the road, courtesy of Maddox’s foodie knowledge.

But I’m not sure what to do about tomorrow, and I need his help. As I pull on my polo shirt, I ask, “I don’t want him there, right? I definitely don’t want to see him, right?”

Zane sighs then claps me on the shoulder. “But you do.”

I roll my eyes. “Dude! Aren’t you supposed to tell me to be strong?”

He laughs. “Be strong, man. But I want him to be there so you two can figure this shit out. Hell, I figured it out with Maddox, and he was my damn agent.”

Fair point. A player-and-agent romance is the definition of off-limits, but Zane and Maddox found a way to navigate that speed bump. Now they are goals.

Maybe Rafe and I just have too many obstacles.

“I don’t think there’s anything to figure out. I should be totally good with this.” I’m going to pep talk myself if he won’t.

“Well, you’ve been playing baseball like a god. You should be good with that .” Zane thumps his chest. “How’s that for an amazing accountability partner?”

That’s true. I have been on a hell of a tear. My stats, RBIs, and on-base percentage are through the roof. I’ve put everything into this postseason run, and it’s paying off, knock on wood.

“Thanks for reminding me—no, thanks for everything , Zane. I couldn’t get through this without you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I say goodnight and head home. Because... what if Rafe is there in the morning? I need my beauty sleep and a little time to manscape.

I shave before bed so I’ll have the perfect morning scruff, then I pick just the right outfit to wear when I walk in the door. If he’s there, I both want him to miss me and pounce on me. I’m selfish like that and greedy too.

I’m antsy as I leave my place the next morning and drive to the Dog Patch District, where I expend some of that nervous energy bounding up the steps to the studio warehouse. I considered texting Rafe to see if he’s here, or will be here, but I’ve resisted contact so far, and he has too. I want the man to succeed in his business plans as much as I succeed on the diamond.

Still, it’d be a classic Rafe move for him to show up. My heart skitters in anticipation. I bet he’s in the studio waiting for me, sitting like a king in a black leather chair, all smooth and casual, licking his lips when he sees me, his eyes traveling up and down my body.

Powered by adrenaline and hope, I head inside and give my name to the receptionist, who waves me in. I turn down the hall, yank open the door to studio five, cranked up and ready.

But as I scan the white room outfitted with changing rooms, a few chaise lounges, and many bright lights, only disappointment waits for me.

Well, no. There’s also a statuesque woman with a friendly, warm smile. She was at Edge with Rafe the night I met him. She approaches me and sticks out her hand. “Hi, Gunnar. I’m Theresa, the Executive VP at Rafe Rodman. I’ll introduce you to the photographer when she arrives in a minute, and we have all the designs for you, as well as a changing room.”

My heart sinks. But then, the shoot hasn’t even started. Rafe would come at the end.

That’s his style—to surprise me and devastate me, then leave me wanting more.