Chapter Eighteen
“Another sourdough?” Declan calls abruptly from his open office door as we all get changed in the locker room.
The game starts in twenty minutes, and my nerves have never been this out of control before. I tell myself it’s just another game—another Wednesday night. Baseball. A stadium full of people. The conflicting scents of dirt, sweat, and popcorn.
But I’m lying.
Tonight the love of my life’s going to watch me play.
“I’m so confused as to why he gets so worked up over bread,” Jensen mutters beside me, changing into his uniform.
“No idea,” Austin says from the bench behind us while he tugs on a cleat. “But honestly? It’s funny as hell.”
Declan marches up to us, sourdough in hand. “Is someone playing a prank on me?”
“I’d bet money that one of the guys’ girlfriends or wives has been baking them and they’re just sharing.” I close my locker, then lean against it with my arms crossed.
“Why’s it such a big deal, anyway?” Austin asks, quirking a brow.
“It’s not,” Declan emphasizes. “I just want to know where they’re coming from. Why wouldn’t whoever’s leaving them just leave a note or something?” He scoffs, then walks away, taking the sourdough with him.
I laugh, but it sounds hollow, my mind a thousand miles away.
“You good, man?” Austin asks, brows knitting together. “You seem a little off.”
I nod, my gaze cutting to Jensen for a second before landing back on Austin. Jensen knows why I’m nervous as hell, but Austin doesn’t. There hasn’t been an opportunity to tell him everything, but I sense I’m about to. “Yeah, just have some pre-game nerves.”
“Pre-game nerves?” He scoffs. “What, is this your first time on the big boy field? Why the hell would you be nervous? The Cannons aren’t even that good.”
“My girl’s coming for the first time.”
“How unfortunate for her. You really should learn to put her needs before your own, dude,” he retorts immediately, not missing a beat. Then he realizes what I said. “Wait, your girl?”
“Kind of. She will be. I love her.” The words come out fast and jumbled, like I’m confessing them to her all over again rather than telling my friend. Flustered, I drag my hand down my face and shake my head, puffing out a short breath. “Do you remember my best friend Dylan?”
“Yes,” he drawls slowly, eyebrows lifting as he waits to be clued in.
I plop down onto the bench next to him, resting my elbows on my thighs, and stare at the white-tiled floor.
“Indy is Dylan’s sister—practically his twin.
And I’ve been in love with her since I was a kid, but Dylan forbade us from ever getting together back when we were teenagers.
” My jaw tightens. “He said he’d never forgive either of us. That we’d be dead to him.”
“Mind you, this was high school,” Jensen mutters, echoing the same thing he said to me at the bar last weekend.
“But I’m—” I stop, correcting myself. “We’re done tiptoeing around his feelings.”
Austin’s gaze flicks past me to Jensen. “You knew about this?”
He nods once. “I was filled in over the weekend.”
Austin turns his head toward me, studying my face as though he’s waiting for more.
There’s not, and he seems to come to that realization after a long pause of silence stretches between us all.
Finally, his head bobs. “Alright. Cool.” His mouth tugs into a grin.
“So she’s coming to the game tonight, and probably on your dick later. I like it. Good for you, man.”
He stands abruptly, clapping my shoulder. “Let’s go. It’s time to show Indy what she’s been missing by skipping out on your games.”
Jensen barks a laugh, reaching for his batting gloves. “That’s the spirit. You ready, Fox?”
“Yeah.” My voice shakes, my confidence wavering as I rise from the bench.
“Why are you hesitating?” Austin asks as he holds open the door that leads to the field.
The roar of the crowd is floating in from the excitement of seeing some of the Bears already heading to the dugout. Highlights of each of us are still booming through the speakers, announcing each of us on the Jumbotron.
It’s time.
“There’s a chance she won’t be in the VIP box. I told her if she was ready to be with me—to give us a real shot—to come to the game. I sent her flowers and a jersey earlier, but it’s been radio silent all day. She might not show.”
“Relax. She’ll show,” Jensen reassures me, and pushes me forward.
I stumble, but only a couple of steps before I straighten to my full height.
She has to show. She loves me just as much as I love her.
“Yeah. She will,” I say more to myself than either of them, and a rush of confidence settles back through me.
I nod, solidifying my words into a decision and shake off the feelings of inadequacy.
As we walk out of the locker room onto the field, my pulse spikes, eyes instinctively lifting to the VIP box. The knot in my chest loosens, relief flooding me when I spot her pink hair in the breeze, and for the first time all day, I finally feel like I can breathe.
The crowd erupts when Jensen, Austin, and I come into view, but I can’t take my eyes off Indy. She stands, hand coming to rest on the rail while she looks around the stadium for the source of the excitement.
Then it’s like she can feel me watching her, and she looks over, her eyes immediately meeting mine. All the noise of the stadium falls away when she looks at me, and I struggle not to stop completely in my tracks to take in this moment.
It’s like everything I’ve worked so hard for is finally happening.
Indy smiles her real, genuine smile she gives only to me, and it threatens to steal my breath.
“Damn, is that her?” Austin jogs back in my direction, eyes trained on Indy as well.
“That’s her.” My chest blooms with pride.
That’s her. My girl.
Mine.
“She’s hot.” He nudges me in the side with his elbow, then runs off to join the rest of the team.
Indy sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. I can’t stop staring—completely caught in her spell. The moment stretches, her eyes flicking back up to mine, making my heart stumble from the heated look she’s giving me.
That’s when I realize what she’s wearing and my mouth goes dry.
My jersey. The one I sent her.
“Fox!” Coach yells from the edge of the dugout. “What the hell are you doing? Get in here!”
With just seconds before the game starts, I toss a wink in Indy’s direction and jog to the dugout, apologizing to Declan on my way in.
He says nothing, but when I head back out to the field, he nods in my direction.
Rolling my shoulders, I hover on the outskirts of third base, waiting for the batter to swing. I flex my fingers inside the glove and let my mind focus. The stadium is loud, but I’ve learned to let the noise wash over me, fading it into a dull hum.
From the pitcher's mound, Austin winds his arm back and lets the ball shoot from his grasp, a perfect pitch down the center so fast the batter barely has time to react. The metal slides through the air, a sharp whooshing as the bat misses the ball.
Anger washes over the batter’s face, and with more determination, he clenches his teeth so hard I can see the muscle in his jaw contract.
Dropping my stance lower, I prepare for the ball to fly with the next pitch. With Austin, I’ve learned not to blink or you’ll miss the moment the ball leaves his hand. The crack of the bat is sharp when the baseball connects, and my instincts take over.
The ball smacks the leather of my glove, muscle memory kicking into high gear as I twist my foot, positioning my knee toward first while I transfer the ball to my dominant hand and send it sailing.
The move is as easy as breathing, and when it lands perfectly in our first baseman’s glove, I take a deep, steadying breath and look up at the VIP box.
Indy’s grinning down at me, and her smile spurs me on.
Three innings later I’m on deck taking practice swings, getting myself in the mindset to hit a home run.
Being the star hitter on the team is a heavy pressure—an unspoken expectation put in place by everyone that I need to make the team proud.
But it’s hard to focus when my gaze keeps wandering back to where Indy sits, my mind telling me she’s not really there.
My heart skips beats when I feel her eyes on me. I’ve never wished for a game to end early before, but the only thing I can think about is scaling the wall to get up to the VIP box, taking her in my arms, and kissing her.
Stepping up to home plate, I breathe in through my nose.
The pitcher winds his arm back and releases a fastball. With a steady twist, I send it out toward left-center, abandoning the bat as I run.
Each thump of my cleats in the dirt pushes me further, and I drive into first, hitting the base hard as I turn, pushing on to second. I barely make it before the ball hits the second baseman’s glove with a heavy thud.
What an arm on that outfielder. He’s almost as quick as Jensen.
I glance up at Indy again without meaning to, a bad habit quickly forming. But I can’t help it. She’s here.
My chest tightens when she catches me looking and smiles at me. Lifting her hand, she gives a small, subtle wave. All I can think about is how badly I want this game to end so I can take her to my family’s ranch and finally have some time with her.
She has no idea I’m surprising her by going out there tonight, and I can’t wait to see the look on her face. I should have told her to pack a bag, but I don’t plan on either of us needing extra clothes for the next couple of days.
When we finally reach the ninth inning, I’m wound tighter than Austin’s pitching arm. I look up one more time before it starts, and she’s watching me, smiling like she’s seeing me for the first time.
And in a sense she is—she’s never seen me like this before, at least not up close. Playing a major league game, completely in my element.
I hope I’m making her proud.
I play this last inning like my life depends on it, and even though we end up losing, I feel like I’ve won.
“Hey,” Indy greets me when I step outside of the locker room wearing gray sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt, stopping when I see her leaning up against the wall under the sign that clearly says ‘Authorized Personnel Only’.
I laugh, tipping my chin at the words. “Since when are you authorized personnel, Trouble?”
Tilting her head back, she looks at the sign above her and shrugs. “Did no one tell you?”
“Tell me what?” I ask, taking a step closer to her. I’ve showered, washing away the evidence of the game I just played.
She takes a step toward me, erasing the distance between us. Winding her arms around my neck, her fingers play with the ends of my hair. “I never play by the rules.”
Indy doesn’t give me a second to think before she tightens her grip on my hair, pulls me down to her, and presses her lips against mine like she’s been waiting all night to do it.
Her kiss isn’t tentative or shy, it’s demanding as she takes what she wants from me, her body pressed against mine, letting me feel every inch of her.
Splaying my hand against her lower back, I move her backward until she’s against the wall.
My knee comes to rest between her legs, perfectly aligned to press against her heat.
With a whimper, she melts against me, and my hands find her waist, keeping her firmly pressed against the concrete—against me.
My nails dig into her soft skin, and all too soon, she pulls back just enough to break the kiss, letting our foreheads rest together.
I don’t need to see her face to know she’s smiling. I can feel it mirroring my own.
Knowing I need to rein it in, I reluctantly take a step back, sliding my hand into hers so our contact isn’t completely broken.
The night’s still young, and the sooner I get her out to the lake house, the sooner we can really, truly be alone.
“C’mon,” I say, giving her a light tug. I start to walk, bending quickly to pick up the duffle bag I left abandoned by the locker room door and toss it over my shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where are we going?” she asks, her voice curious and full of desire. Her eyes are slightly hooded as she looks up at me, matching my pace as we weave through lingering fans.
“You’ll see,” I tease.
She bites her lip like she wants to argue with me, but instead gives my hand a squeeze.
Opening the passenger door of my truck for her, I smirk as she slides inside, still watching me with a look that’s driving me wild. I’m excited to see her reaction when she realizes where we’re going, my heart pounding harder with each passing second I let my truck warm up.
Indy has no idea where I’m taking her tonight, but she’s about to see exactly what it looks like to be mine.