Chapter 32
Tenny
The animated character on the screen shakes its head at me as I answer the question wrong.
Again. Part of me wants to explain that I have a really good reason for losing focus, but talking to a language-learning app—beyond repeating pronunciation—feels borderline crazy.
Besides, the moody teenage avatar on the screen isn’t interested in the mind-melting quality of Alex’s sighs or how the sensation of her lips on my jaw makes me feel simultaneously cherished and like I could vault over the outfield.
And her words? How Alex accepts me as I am?
I’m still pinching myself.
DJ drops in the empty aisle seat beside me on the team’s private plane. “I don’t know why you mess around with that. I told you I’d teach you Spanish.”
“I know,” I say, setting the phone onto the small table between us. “But I wanted to be able to say more than ‘?Dónde está el bano?’ before bugging you.”
Like thirty percent of MLB players, DJ grew up speaking Spanish.
Though my teammate is also fluent in English, not every player is.
I want to be able to chat with everyone who comes through first base.
Kai also offered to teach me Japanese once I’ve mastered Spanish, but at this rate, I’ll be retired from baseball before I ever get the hang of it.
DJ mutters to himself before calling to Ricky—our designated hitter—in Spanish. They’re obviously talking about me, but I just let the melodic words wash over me. It’s such a beautiful language. If only I could speak it without sounding like an animatronic robot.
“That app won’t teach you any baseball terms either,” he tells me, like I could understand whatever he and Ricky were just chatting about.
“You’re right. Plus, you won’t roll a purple-shadowed eye at me when I can’t roll my Rs.”
A barking laugh leaves DJ’s mouth. “Nah. I’ll just talk trash about you to Ricky.”
“What else is new?” I shake my head, my lip kicking up.
After fifteen minutes of stumbling through sentences, Colton stops beside us. “Have you guys noticed that Shane has been acting weird lately?”
“You mean other than grunting like a caveman?”
DJ makes a noise in his throat. “I’d be monosyllabic after what happened to him.”
I turn in my chair as Colton leans in. “What happened? He won’t tell us anything in the group chat.”
“I heard about that,” DJ says, crossing his thick arms. “It’s short-sighted to exclude the married players when you’re asking for relationship advice. But I guess that’s why you’re all still single.”
A zip of energy races along my spine, because at long last, I’m not.
Though Alex and I can’t have a public relationship without jeopardizing her job, that doesn’t mean it isn’t real.
It won’t be like Trevor and Kenzie’s—where she never misses a home game, cheering in his jersey—but I’ll still get to see Alex before and after every game.
“A major oversight,” I tell DJ, pulling my brain back to the conversation. “I’ll fix it.”
My teammate nods toward my phone, waiting until I’ve added everyone from the starting lineup to our Waves group chat.
DJ rubs at his dark beard. “I don’t know if you two jokers deserve to know.”
“Come on, man.” Colton slaps the top of DJ’s seat. “You know I live for team gossip.”
He chuckles, lowering his voice. “You didn’t hear this from me, but Shane wasn’t happy about his trade to the Waves, not because he had anything against our franchise—”
“You sure?” Colton jokes. “I’m pretty sure he’s allergic to blue after years of wearing Stallions’ red and gold.”
DJ shakes his head. “It’s because his ex-fiancée accepted a job here before the trade. She does front-office analytics.”
My eyebrows lift. “That stinks, but they probably never see each other.”
The chances of running into a front-office staffer during our daily routine is slim to none.
“Except, the man she cheated on Shane with—and got pregnant by while they were still engaged—is someone we talk to all the time.”
“Who?” Colton and I ask in unison.
DJ pauses, glancing toward the back of the plane where Shane sits alone in the last row. Instead of wearing Waves gear, he’s dressed in black sweats and a hoodie, with noise-canceling headphones over his copper hair. His head bobs along to a song we can’t hear as he scowls out the window.
“Mike Ellison, our new game planning coach—also from the Stallions.”
Colton releases a low whistle while I sit back in my seat, blinking. My mind shifts through various memories of Shane storming out of team meetings, refusing to cooperate with Mike.
“That’s…” My heart aches for my teammate. “That’s awful. No wonder he’s always so grumpy.”
DJ hums in agreement. “Shane’s gone on record that he’s not going to date anyone until his career is over.”
“That feels a bit extreme.”
“I agree. This job is a lot easier when you have someone at home.”
His fingers riffle past the diamond and sapphire tennis necklaces around his neck to pull his gold chains out of his collar. The first is a gold crucifix. The second pendant is of his wife, Dulce, her smiling face tilted back in laughter. He kisses the tiny replica before patting it over his heart.
Gratitude flows through my veins that I now have someone supporting me too.
Colton pulls his gaze from the back of the plane, his brow wrinkled. “If Shane said he was staying single, why is he wearing a wedding band?”
The three of us crane our necks in Shane’s direction, as subtle as a group of chattering parrots. A flight attendant hands him a steaming coffee mug, and Shane lowers his headphones as he accepts it with a quiet thank you. The action gives us a clear view of both of his ring-free hands.
“Quit making stuff up,” I tell Colton.
“I swear.” He ducks down, lowering his voice when Shane shifts his icy glare in our direction. “I saw a ring on his left hand while we were climbing the boarding stairs.”
With a muttered Spanish word, DJ shoves Colton, almost knocking him into Trevor and Kai across the aisle.
“Can you guys calm down?” Trevor asks, resting a team tablet on his knee.
“Or better yet, sit down?” Kai adds, staring pointedly at Colton’s rear-end right in his face. “The grownups would appreciate some peace and quiet.”
DJ just laughs while Colton and I open our mouths to go on the offensive. We’re interrupted by a burst of static when our manager picks up the receiver for the plane’s PA system.
“Alright, fellas, take your seats,” he says, crossing one ankle over the other while leaning his shoulder against the wall. “Let’s talk through the Rattlers series—pitching matchups and approach.”
Kai gives Colton a smug smile as he walks away.
I sneak one more glance at Shane before shaking my head. There’s no way he’s married after what DJ just told us. It makes sense for Shane to lick his wounds for a while. Poor guy. I’ll ease up on him about social events now that I know why he’s been so distant.
After this morning’s conversation with Alex, I’ll also be busy after games for the foreseeable future. A grin lifts my lips as I settle into my seat, listening to Patrick.
For the first time, I have something other than baseball to look forward to.