Chapter 2
AND WE’LL PROVE IT TO YOU
After the fifth sprint drill in a row, Sawyer tugged his shirt off and tossed it toward the sidelines. Hands on his hips, his tattooed chest heaved as he tipped his head back. Drops of sweat rolled down his tight stomach and his shoulders rippled with a broad strength.
It was deeply unprofessional for me to notice the flock of birds inked along his rib cage. But dragging my eyes away felt as impossible a feat as climbing Mt. Everest. Sawyer was overwhelming power kept on an extremely tight leash.
An utter marvel.
Even now I could tell he was holding back. That every dash across the field was 70% of his skill, at most. And that 70% was astonishing: his giant thighs flexing as he moved, his back straight, eyes zeroed in on the goal.
He guzzled from his water bottle and splashed water on the back of his neck. When he turned around, I was just close enough to see the droplets shimmer between his shoulder blades.
“You tryin’ to kill me, Coach?” He panted toward the older man on the field. “Pretty sure I got my first game tomorrow night and you probably want me rested up a bit.”
The man snorted and gave a signal with his finger that must have meant again. Sawyer’s jaw tightened for just a second but he did as told, dropping into a runner’s lunge.
Unbeknownst to him, I could see Cash sneaking up from wherever he’d been, which looked like getting his shoulder taped and prodded. He dropped into position next to Sawyer just as the coach told them to go.
From my vantage point, I could see Sawyer’s surprised delight, Cash’s slight smile.
Then their bodies up and moving with a speed that shocked me.
Near the end, Cash slowed and broke into a laugh, leaving Sawyer to finish first. He looped an arm around Cash’s neck, both of them laughing now, and Sawyer mouthed something into the other man’s ear.
Whatever he said made Cash blush.
A harried-looking PR assistant appeared on the field. “Knight! Barlow! You’re needed over here.”
They paused mid-scuffle to straighten up and jog our way. Neither had noticed me, hunkered down in the dugout like I was. I stood up slowly now, shifting my curls over one shoulder. My fingers trembled where I gripped my recorder and I hoped to god these two elite athletes didn’t notice.
But it was my first time covering the majors. My first time with such a high-profile story. My first real feature spot. I’d begged Sam for this opportunity and now that I was here, about to begin, my only thought was you’re going to fuck this all the way up.
A knot formed in my stomach. I knew the source of that thought but couldn’t ruminate on it now.
As Cash and Sawyer grew closer, the assistant said, “The head office needs the two of you to work with a reporter from the Philadelphia Sentinel for the next month. A series of interviews about your rookie season, your backstory, real folksy stuff. They think it’ll boost ticket sales, get the team some extra visibility. ”
From where I stood, Cash’s immediate reluctance was obvious in his slight frown. Sawyer cut a hesitant look toward his friend.
“Is, uh…this the kind of thing we can say no to?” Sawyer asked.
The assistant responded with a curt, “It’s not a request. And the journalist’s already here.”
I hadn’t stopped to consider that Cash and Sawyer might not want the exposure or visibility. They were rookies, just 23-years old, and already under extreme amounts of pressure.
At the very least, I’d expected the head office to do more preparation than just yanking them early from practice.
The assistant scurried away, back into the air-conditioned building, which I took as my cue to re-introduce myself. Stepping forward into the sun, I raised a hand, assuming they wouldn’t remember me.
Except the second our eyes locked together, an instant recognition had their body language turning loose and carefree.
“Well, what do ya know?” Sawyer said, relaxing into a grin. “If it isn’t Darcy Hale, our ace reporter.”
Cash’s face brightened. “As if we could say no to the woman who predicted we’d end up here.”
I shrugged, my cheeks warming with the compliment. “I told you I’d get the story when it happened. And I only report the truth.”
“And can apparently predict the future,” Cash said. “Which makes you our new good luck charm.”
Sawyer tossed his shirt back on and cocked his head toward the locker room. “Let’s head in here. We’ll have more privacy to talk about whatever it is the big bosses want us to be doing.”
When I stood — gathering my overflowing bag, my notebooks, a large iced coffee — I was keenly aware of their intense body heat as I slid past them. They smelled like the dog days of summer, of sweat and dirt, grass and sunscreen.
Inside the humid locker room, I perched on a bench and faced Sawyer, who straddled it with a lazy confidence. Cash propped his back against one of the lockers with his hands clasped in front of him.
Seated this close, I was forced to acknowledge how unbelievably handsome they were.
Cash’s wholesome good looks, his polite deference.
The hometown boy promising to get you back long before curfew.
This was in stark contrast to Sawyer’s flirty arrogance and tattooed fingers.
Not the rule-following hometown boy at all.
He broke all the rules and tempted you to do the same.
I gulped past a lump in my throat. We were completely alone here and they were so very big. Long-limbed and strong, their muscles finely honed, their bodies humming with energy even when still. And they were staring back at me with genuine, friendly curiosity.
I was the sole focus of their combined attention.
“You okay there, Darcy?” Sawyer asked.
I gulped again and hoped it wasn’t too obvious that I’d been staring. “I’m a little nervous actually. They pulled me from the minors to cover this story, to cover you, and it comes with a fair amount of pressure.”
Sawyer leaned back. “You don’t have anything to worry about. If your articles about me and Cash are half as good as your reporting in the minors, the story’s gonna shine.”
“You read my other articles?” I asked, stunned.
“Of course we did. Went home and looked ‘em up after we met you,” he said. “You saw something in us that we didn’t. I’m not ashamed to admit I was starting to worry this was never gonna happen for us.”
I scoffed. “I didn’t do a damn thing. The two of you got called up because you deserve it. Because you’re the most talented rookies out there.”
“There she goes again, speaking the truth,” Sawyer said with a chuckle. “If you keep stroking my ego like this, my head’s not gonna fit through the locker room door.”
Cash’s smile was part affection, part exasperation. “That’s already a problem. As are the numerous marriage proposals he’s been getting from fans. You might want to toss an insult in every few minutes to keep that ego of his in check.”
I twisted my hair up into a bun and fished my recorder out from my bag. “Journalistic integrity demands I only print facts. Not conjecture. If you want me to say you’re the best, you’ll have to prove it.”
Sawyer’s dark gaze pinned me to the spot. “That won’t be a problem for us, ace.”
The gravel in his tone had butterflies fluttering low in my belly.
“I, uh…I’m not sure what you’ve been told, but I’ll be embedded with the team for the next month, reporting on the season. But mostly —” at this, I swallowed, “I’ll be covering the two of you.”
“We haven’t been told a thing so we’re as nervous as you are,” Cash said. “People really want to read about us?”
“Sure they do. They want to read about your friendship, your journey to the majors, how you play together. As long as you’re willing, I’ll make you a household name in weeks.”
They shared a look but didn’t respond.
“After we set up a few parameters, of course,” I said quickly.
“The goal with this story is…well, intimacy. I’ll be spending a lot of time with you over the next month and the last thing I want is to print something that makes you uncomfortable.
So why don’t you start by telling me what I’m leaving out of the interviews. ”
Cash gripped the back of his neck. “We didn’t realize you were aiming to make us that famous. There are some things we need to consider.”
“Like what?” I asked.
Sawyer’s right knee was shaking slightly. “Look, we came here to be the best, to leave everything we’ve got on that goddamn field. We assumed press would be a part of it but not this fast. And not this big.”
I reared back slightly. “Do you really not want to do this? Because I can talk to my editor —”
Cash shook his head, cutting me off. “We’ll do it.”
Sawyer coughed into his fist. Cash ignored the interruption.
“It’s just startling to consider us ever being a household name. You have to understand…we grew up in a town of 500 people. Hart’s Island, South Carolina isn’t exactly known for its celebrities.”
“And we left because of that,” Sawyer said. “That place is nothing but a bunch of busybodies. They’ve got too much time on their hands and they used it to talk shit about the two of us.”
“Because you were baseball players?” I asked, slightly confused.
There was a loaded beat of silence. Then Sawyer continued, “Yeah. Because of that. And other things. My dad. Cash’s family. The usual stuff.”
I noted the distinct change in their body language again. Whatever this tension was had Cash’s lips pressed into a thin line and Sawyer’s jaw clenching.
Leaning forward, I said, “I know a bit about what it’s like to be the subject of gossip and rumors.
It fucking sucks. But these articles about you wouldn’t be that.
They’d be about your friendship, how you play, what the game means to you.
Stuff about your family and your hometown we can keep vague or leave out entirely. ”
The pair shared another long look. Whatever they decided seemed to calm them both.
“That we can do,” Sawyer drawled. “Though it’s not like anyone we’re related to would ever care enough to read whatever you write about us. So I don’t know why we’re so damn worried.”
“Sawyer,” Cash warned.
“What?” He shot back with a grin. “You think anyone from back home actually cares?”
“I think Darcy doesn’t need to be privy to our hometown squabbles.” Cash sent me a polite smile. “Sorry about that, ma’am.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “I’m no stranger to squabbles. My family’s from Philly, remember? Grudges and loyalties are tested by the day. I’ve had uncles get into fistfights at family barbecues. I’m guessing a town with less than 500 people is just as intense.”
Cash’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Intense is one way to describe it.”
I flipped a page in my notebook and jotted down what we’d decided. “Readers will speculate about who you’re dating too. You should be prepared to have an answer, even if that answer is ‘no comment’.”
“Uh.” Sawyer laughed, almost nervously. “Let’s definitely keep that in the ‘no comment’ territory. I wanna keep these marriage proposals comin’ in.”
My gaze flew back up and Cash must have read the question on my face.
“Both of us are off the market,” he said.
“Oh. Right.” The slight pinch of — what, jealousy? — was a surprise. “I’ll keep the focus away from romance in my article.”
Sawyer’s expression grew thoughtful. “You mentioned intimacy, tagging along with us for a month, making us a household name. If the fans can’t know about our families or who we’re dating, will they even want to read it?”
I set my notebook down and peered up at them both.
“Intimacy is more than who you take to dinner and the town you grew up in. It’s your greatest hopes and fears, your vulnerabilities, your passions.
The way standing on that field makes you feel.
What happens to your heart when you slide that glove onto your hand.
Are you scared? Are you elated? Can you tell the difference? ”
I paused, feeling myself getting flushed again. “More importantly, it’s how you work together. The way you read each other during a game, how deeply you appear to know one another and work off that knowledge. I’ve seen you convey volumes with a single glance, even here in this locker room.”
Cash’s brow furrowed. “Do you really see all of that when you look at us?”
I see a thing of extraordinary beauty I wanted to say, but held my tongue.
Instead, I said, “Your every hope and ambition as baseball players is bound up together. You share every win and loss. You feel the impact of every injury or fumbled catch. That is intimacy to me. And that’s why readers will flock to your story. ”
I sat awkwardly in the silence afterward and busied myself with shoving my things into my bag. When Cash finally spoke, the awe in his voice dragged my gaze back to his.
“If you write as beautifully as you speak,” he said, “I’m worried you’ll have readers seeing us as better than we are.”
“Absolutely not. I only write the truth, remember?”
“The truth is that mediocrity’s never been our thing.” Sawyer’s lips quirked into a sly grin. “We came here to be the greatest ball players of all time.”
I snorted. “And you’re always that good, huh?”
Two sets of eyes landed on mine, pinning me to the spot.
“Cash and I are good at everything we do, ace,” Sawyer said. “And we’ll prove it to you.”