Chapter 29
Jase
By the time I made it back to my room, I was running on fumes and irritation.
I’d showered at the stadium, pulled on a Red Sox tee and jeans, and somehow made it through the bus ride without snapping at anyone, which felt like an accomplishment after I went oh-for-four and overthrew to first, which let the Blue Jays score the run that beat us.
After changing into sleep pants, I grabbed the remote and flipped through channels until I landed on a highlights show, because apparently I hated myself enough to see whether they were going to replay my fuck-up.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I grabbed it.
VIDEO SURFACES OF FAYE DONNELLEY IN INTIMATE MOMENT WITH CRUSHERS INFIELDER! IS SHE CHEATING ON JASE MATTHEWSON WITH HIS STEPbrOTHER?
My stomach dropped so hard I felt sick.
“What the fuck?”
I was furious.
Not at Faye. Not at Dylan. But at whoever had filmed them. At whoever had posted it. At whoever had written that trashy headline.
At everyone who thought they could take something private and turn it into a show.
My phone kept vibrating, again, then again, then again, and I watched the notifications stack up as if they were trying to bury me.
Cruz: You awake?
Mom: Call me when you can
Lila: Call me ASAP
I stared at the last one from the Red Sox PR chick until my vision blurred. Then I dragged a hand over my face and tried to breathe like I wasn’t about to punch the wall.
I called Faye first, and she answered on the second ring. “Hey.”
“You all right?” I asked, already knowing the answer because her quiet voice made my chest ache.
“I’m fine,” she replied. The words came out clipped, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as me.
“Don’t do that. You don’t have to be fine with me.”
There was a beat of silence, then she let out a slow breath. “I’m not fine.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“But I’m with Morgan,” she added quickly. “I’m not alone.”
“Good.” I swallowed. “Did Dylan see it yet?”
“I haven’t talked to him. I was going to, but then my phone started exploding, and I just … froze.”
“Okay.” I began pacing. “I’m calling him now, then I’m calling my PR team, and then we’re getting on the same page, all three of us.”
“You don’t have to handle everything.”
“I know, but I’m not letting them turn this into you cheating on me, with Dylan dragged in as the homewrecker and me cast as the poor dumb boyfriend.”
“I hate that you even have to say that,” she whispered.
“I hate it too, but let me call D really quick.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
The second the call ended, I clicked Dylan’s contact to call him.
He picked up quickly. “Tell me you’re calling to say this is a joke.”
“It’s not.” My jaw tightened. “You all right?”
“No. I’m pissed off. And I’m worried about Faye. I’m worried about you too. And I’m worried my team thinks I’m some asshole creeping on my stepbrother’s girl.”
“You’re not,” I snapped, running a hand through my hair.
“I know,” he pushed back. “But the internet doesn’t care.”
“Yeah, well, the internet can kiss my ass.” I blew out a breath. “I just talked to Faye. I’m putting her on, and we’re figuring out what we’re doing because I’m not letting this spiral without us deciding on the next move.”
“Do it.”
I tapped her back in.
Faye spoke first. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” Dylan answered immediately. “Stop.”
I jumped in before she could argue. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“It feels wrong,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “It’s my life, and I still feel dragged around by people who’ve never even met me.”
“Welcome to being famous,” Dylan replied. Almost immediately, it became clear he had heard the bitterness in his comment, and he tried to pull it back. “Sorry. That came out shitty.”
“It came out honest,” she replied. “I’m used to media attention, but not like this.”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “All right. My team’s PR wants me on the phone, and I’m guessing Dylan’s people are calling him too. We need to decide what we’re giving them.”
Dylan exhaled sharply. “My manager already texted me. Just the words ‘Call me.’ That’s always fun.”
Faye let out a small sound, halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I can’t believe they’re framing it as cheating.”
“It’s clickbait,” I corrected. “They don’t care about the truth.”
“I don’t want this to ruin your season,” Faye whispered.
“It won’t,” I promised, and I meant it, even if I didn’t yet know how.
Dylan made a noise of disbelief. “Jase, you’re sweet, but it might get messy.”
“I can handle messy,” I claimed, hoping I could handle any consequence. “What I’m not doing is letting them write our story for us.”
Faye went quiet, then asked, “Are you mad?”
“At them?” I inquired. “Yeah.”
“At me?” she pressed. Her words came out small, which pissed me off in a different way because she should never have to ask that.
I softened my voice. “Princess, I’m not mad at you.”
Dylan’s breath hit the mic. “She’s not going to believe it until you say it five more times.”
“Then I’ll say it five more times,” I replied. “Faye, I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad at Dylan. I’m mad that they’re acting like you’re trash just because you hugged someone.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“What’s the plan, then?” Dylan cut in. “Ignore it and hope it dies, or get ahead of it?”
I didn’t hesitate. “We don’t make a statement today.”
Faye’s voice sharpened. “Why?”
“If we react immediately, it becomes a bigger story,” I explained. “My PR lady will want a clean quote. The White House will want something different. Your security team will want you off the grid. Someone’s going to try to control you, and I’m not letting that happen while it’s still fresh.”
“Also, if we make it about cheating,” Dylan added, “then it stays about cheating, and that’s not what it’s about.”
Faye swallowed. “So we ignore it?”
“For now,” I agreed. “We let the initial wave pass, keep our people calm, and stick to what we’ve been doing: neither confirming nor denying anything.”
“Then what?” Faye asked.
“Once we’re all together during the All-Star break, we can decide whether it’s time for us to go public. If it is, we do it on our terms.”
“I hate waiting.” Dylan blew out a breath.
“I do too,” I admitted.
Faye fell quiet again, then asked, “What if it doesn’t die down?”
“Then we’re honest,” Dylan replied, and it sounded as if he’d made peace with it, even if he didn’t love it.
Faye’s voice grew thick. “I hate that people see you as my boyfriend and Dylan as a side thing.”
“Me too,” I replied.
Dylan let out a short laugh. “You’re so calm for a guy who probably wants to break his phone in half.”
“I’m not calm,” I corrected, still pacing the small hotel room. “I’m focused. Because if I lose my shit, it doesn’t help either of you.” I was also exhausted from playing nine innings and having the worst game of my career, but I wasn’t thinking about it.
“I love you,” Faye whispered.
“I love you.” Dylan didn’t hesitate. “Both of you.”
My breath caught for a moment. Dylan and I had joked about loving each other over the years, we had probably even said it to each other in a friend or sibling way, but things were different now and there was so much more behind those words.
“And I love you too.” I let out a long exhale to compose myself because the three of us needed to be on the same page with what was going on. “Okay. Here’s the immediate move. Faye, stay with Morgan tonight. Don’t read the comments.”
“I already did,” she admitted, and the defeat in her voice made my fists clench.
“Okay,” I replied, forcing myself not to spiral. “Then you stop now. Dylan, call your manager back and tell him what’s actually going on. I’m calling PR and telling them we’re not issuing a statement tonight. If anyone tries to force an answer, we say ‘no comment’ and stick to it.”
They both agreed, and after we said our goodbyes, I called Lila.
She picked up immediately. “Jase.”
“Yeah,” I answered. “I saw it.”
“Of course you did,” she responded, already in work mode. “I need to know if there’s anything we should be concerned about.”
“The only thing I’m concerned about is you guys panicking and making it worse. I’m not making a statement today.”
There was a pause. “Your instinct is to protect her, and I respect that,” she said. “But you also have a brand now, and the team has a brand, and you need to understand …”
“I understand, but I’m not going to lie or throw anyone under the bus. If you need a quote, it’s ‘No comment.’”
“Okay. ‘No comment’ is acceptable.”
“Good.”
“And Jase,” she added. “Whatever this is in your personal life, be smart about it.”
“I am being smart,” I stated.
“All right. Keep your head down tomorrow. We’ll talk again after batting practice.”
“Got it,” I responded, then ended the call.
I tossed the phone onto the bed and stood there for a second, breathing through my nose, trying to convince my body that this was survivable.
It was.
But it was also going to be a problem until we faced it together.
And that meant Vegas.
A rush of happiness washed over me the second I saw Dylan, his baseball cap pulled low, leaning against a column outside baggage claim at the Las Vegas airport.
He pushed off the post when he spotted me, a massive grin on his face.
I didn’t bother with words. I walked straight into him and wrapped him up in a giant hug. He pressed his face against my shoulder for half a second as if he needed it, as if he was trying not to kiss me like I wanted to kiss him.
“Jesus,” he breathed, pulling back. “I forgot what you look like in person.”
“I’m prettier with filters,” I teased.
He snorted. “Debatable.”
I smirked, then my eyes automatically scanned the crowd. “Any sign of her?”
He lifted his phone. “She texted the group chat about ten minutes ago.”
I pulled mine out. Not sure how I missed it, but there it was:
Landed. Meet you two in baggage claim at carousel seven