Chapter 29 #2
I reach the video room and walk in casually, not wanting to draw attention to myself. And why should I draw attention? I’m only wearing six chunky bead necklaces and an electric-blue bandana under my baseball cap.
Nothing to see here, folks.
I knock on the door—auto lock, and all—and a moment later, Scottie opens it. “About time, Fischer. You were supposed to be here four minutes ago,” she says in her bossiest voice.
“Sorry, got waylaid at lunch, Quinn—” I start, but Scottie’s mouth has found mine before the door’s even clicked shut.
Her lips are so warm and demanding that for a minute my thoughts scatter completely, and the only thing I can think of is how she got the mango smoothie, and I’m going to want to kiss her anytime I smell mangoes for the rest of my life.
She pulls back, her lips red, face flushed in a way it never is when she’s embarrassed. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, kissing her lips, wanting to taste her again.
“Are you sure? You feel off. Like you’re not all the way here.”
I exhale a big huff. She wraps her arms beneath mine, and I lean against the table and pull her close. With her head against my chest, I inhale deeply.
“Coop is going ring shopping with Liesel when they get back. Apparently he’s been talking about it since we got here, and I’ve been so preoccupied with other things that I’ve missed the whole thing.
Logan probably thinks I’m the world’s biggest narcissist because I left right in the middle of talking about it.
And, you know, because they’ve been talking about it for weeks and I’ve missed it. ”
“I’m sorry,” she says, sighing into me. I breathe in her lavender shampoo like it’s oxygen. “You could have texted me and stayed to talk to them. I’d have understood.”
“I know. But I get more time with them than I do with you, and I just … I want more, Quinn. It’s never enough.” My arms tighten, like I’m afraid she’s going to drift away if I don’t pin her to me. “I was worried you’d think you weren’t worth coming for.”
She’s quiet for a moment. Then, into my chest: “That’s … observant.”
I chuckle.
“I’m not sure I know how to be someone people worry about.”
I pull her a little closer and say, “I know. I’m working on it.”
She huffs a small laugh. “You’re working on worrying about me?”
“Around the clock. It’s a very demanding job,” I tease. “No, I’m working on teaching you you’re worth worrying about.”
She’s quiet again, but it’s a different kind of quiet than before. Lighter, somehow. “I’m sorry too,” she says finally. “About Logan. About all of it.”
“Thanks. We’ll be fine,” I say. “How’s your family?”
She rolls her face so she’s speaking right into the center of my chest. “I’m so tired of every text starting with ‘How’s Jake?
’ I feel like I’m not even part of my own family.
I’m the person they hired to take care of their child, except I’m not getting paid.
And his agent got my number and texted me today. ”
“No.”
“Yup. He said ‘There’s still time to do the right thing.’”
I jerk back to look at her. “What does that mean?”
“To sign on with Tide, maybe? I didn’t respond.”
“But Jake’s still on board, right? He knows the plan.”
“He was solid when we talked this morning. Today during the press conference, we expect they’ll ask him how he feels about his girlfriend not wearing his jersey or watching the other split squad instead of him, or something, and he’s going to say that’s not the kind of relationship we have, and he’s happy to see me doing so well in my career.
Then he’s going to say ‘no matter what happens with us, our friendship was built on rooting for each other, and that will never change.’”
“That’s solid. If they ask him about you.”
“They always do,” she says, sounding tired.
I shift my arms around her and press my cheek into the top of her head, letting the weight of her settle against me.
For a second, everything else goes quiet.
“People are losing their minds that the photo he posted with me yesterday didn’t have like ten heart emojis. ”
“His fans are going to hate me when they find out we’re dating.”
“Nah. Jake’s going to spin it right. He’ll come through for us.”
I give her a cynical look.
“Oh, I don’t mean for you and me,” she clarifies. “He would never risk upsetting my parents.”
I believe that she believes it, but I’m not so sure.
I’ve watched Jake’s agent work a room, and I’ve watched Jake promise things and then not quite deliver them, and I’ve watched Scottie smooth every crack before anyone else sees it for a year.
She’s so good at managing the situation that she can’t always see when the situation has started managing her.
I don’t say any of that.
“Okay,” I say instead.
She settles back against me, and I kiss the top of her head. Her soft blonde hair tickles my nose. “Your family is going to hate me.”
“My brothers might,” she says, her voice soft. “But my parents will love you. Eventually.”
I give a dark chuckle that she echoes. “Well, Bruce will love you. In fact, I guarantee he already likes you better than he likes me, and you haven’t even met. He’s going to kick me out of the family and keep you.”
“I’m not triplet material,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
“You don’t need to be anyone but you,” I say.
She leans back far enough to kiss my cheek near my ear.
Then she kisses a trail across my face until I close my eyes and catch her lips with mine.
This one is slower than before. The hunger for each other is gone, replaced by a certainty that this is what we want.
My thumb traces the line of her jaw, and when she sighs into my mouth, it’s hard to care about everything working against us.
Scottie’s phone buzzes, pulling us out of the moment.
“Time to head to the bus,” she says, smoothing my jersey flat and swiping her lip gloss off my lips. I tug her quarter-zip back into place, my fingers skimming her waist in a way that gives her goosebumps. She grabs my shoulders like she’s having to brace herself. My hands grip her hips.
“This has to get easier eventually, right?”
“For sure,” I say, kissing her cheek. “In about ten or twelve years.”
She sniffs a laugh and has to gather herself in a way that makes me feel pretty good about how irresistible she finds me.
“Okay, let’s go over the reminders. I assume you watched video this morning like I told you to?” she asks, because she might be okay with making out with me in the video room, but only if I do my homework on my time.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She grins. “Good man. In that case, remember: water. Sunscreen. Lip balm. And don’t hold back. You’re applying for a job with the team. Every inning builds your résumé. And make the clubhouse love you. Doug’s coming to your game.”
Don’t hold back.
I nod, trying not to think about Logan. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I could get used to you saying that,” she says, her eyes falling to my lips for half a second. She’s turning away when I snag her arm, spin her toward me, and put my hands on her lower back.
“You’d better get used to it,” I say, pressing my lips to hers. I kiss her softly this time, slowly, like I’m memorizing her instead of stealing her. When I pull back, our lips hover only a fraction of an inch apart, our breath hot and shaky between us.
“Yes, sir,” she says, biting back a smile. She gives herself a shake, breathes in and out, and then grabs her bag. “Okay, you ready?”
“Ready.”
She opens the door, and the two of us exit like it’s any other routine film session.
Scottie’s just closing the door when I hear a voice that sounds just like mine.
“How’s the shoulder?” Logan asks. “I thought the trainers were checking you out?”
I turn as casually as I can, pretending my stomach hasn’t dropped out of my body.
“I sent him the wrong itinerary,” Scottie lies. Blinks twice before continuing with confidence: “Doug wanted us to go over pitch usage.”
The mention of Doug makes the hairs on my neck stand up. Talking about him at all feels dangerous—almost stupidly so, not that I’d tell Scottie that.
Logan nods slowly. Players are streaming past us toward the players’ lot, duffel bags thumping against their hips, cleats dangling from one guy’s fingers. The hallway smells like sunscreen and pine tar, and someone’s blasting country music from a phone speaker at an obnoxious volume.
“Cool. Good luck in your game today.”
“You too,” I say. “But wait up. I’ll walk with you. See you later, Quinn,” I say, waving at Scottie like I don’t hate myself for pretending she’s nothing more to me than a work associate.
I fall into step with Logan, but he doesn’t say anything.
Neither do I.
Every time I lie to Logan, it takes a chunk of my soul with it.
I feel like I’m riddled with holes, and walking with my twin makes each one of them ache.
I hate keeping a secret this big from the person who knows everything about me.
It hurts living a lie when I want to live the dream. As stupid as that sounds.
“Joe’s with you guys today, right?” I ask when we’re halfway to the parking lot. The laughter of our teammates echoes too loudly through the tunnel.
“Yup. And you have Mel, right?”
“And Doug,” I add.
“I’m glad he’s watching you and not me,” Logan says.
“I’m not. You’ve been on fire all month. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re wearing Firebirds red on opening day.”
“Don’t jinx me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
We’re almost to the busses when Logan stops. Looks at me. “I know something’s going on, and I really resent you for freezing me out.”
“Logan, no—”
“Don’t, man. Don’t give me another story.
” He looks up as Jake passes us with a nod.
“Your story checks out. It always does. But this wasn’t just our dream.
It was Mom’s. Us getting called up together, playing big leagues together.
She would be here all month long, if she were alive—watching her boys.
Team Fischer. But we haven’t been Team Fischer all month. ”
“We’re sharing a room—”
“Save it, Lucas. You didn’t even stay to watch my interview with the media—”
“Because Scottie was chewing me a new one for talking about Jake!”
“It’s always something,” Logan says, shaking his head. “We’ve been around each other, but you haven’t been here.”
His eyes move off of me to the bus behind me … where Scottie’s boarding.
“You’ve been there.”
“It’s not what you think.” The words stumble out of me.
“I don’t care what it is, but you should. Because if you have to keep it a secret from the people who love you, it’s not right.”
Joe and Mel come right behind us, each of them grabbing a Fischer.
“Hustle, boys. You wait for the big leaguers. They don’t wait for you,” Joe says, directing Logan to his bus, leaving me to follow Mel to mine.
When I climb onto the bus, I see Scottie talking to Gabriela in the second row. I’m almost relieved she’s already sitting with someone else, so I don’t have to keep up this tightrope walk of shame.
Coop’s sitting a few rows from the back, and he waves me over.
When I drop beside him, I instantly hunch over, feeling like I’m going to be sick. Coop squeezes my shoulders a touch too hard to be supportive. “Is it worth it?”
“It had better be.”
The bus engine rumbles to life beneath us, vibrating through the floor.
I sit up in time to see Logan’s bus pulling out in front of us.
Coop studies my face. “That’s a terrible answer, man.”
I lean my head back against the seat and stare at the ceiling vents. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”
He nods once.
I’ve been so self-absorbed all month, and as tempting as it is to shut myself off and wallow in my own pain, I can’t do this to Coop anymore. My future brother.
“Hey, I’m really sorry I haven’t been paying attention to what’s going on with you and Lee. I’m really happy for you guys.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he says.
“Yeah, it is,” I argue.
“You’re right. It’s a huge deal,” he says with an easy grin, so much more generous than he could be, given the circumstances.
“How are you going to ask her?”
He chuckles and says in a low voice, “I’ll tell you, but you don’t get to judge me for how corny this is, because I have it on good authority you’re a sucker for love.”
The bus lurches forward, and through the tinted windows, I watch Logan’s bus turn the opposite direction out of the lot.
“Guilty as charged,” I say.