32. Monroe
THIRTY-TWO
MONROE
“DON’T BE A LITTLE BITCH, MONROE.”—ALL OF US.
The interview that morning had gone fine.
Better than fine, actually. Other than Graciella bolting on me.
I’d been halfway through pulling off my mic pack when I’d spotted her sliding out the side door. She’d vanished before I could talk to her.
And I needed to talk to her.
Which made standing on the mound at SAP Park in front of forty thousand people feel like a giant cock block.
“Coach Monroe of the San Jose Stars, everybody!” the announcer boomed through the stadium, dampening the rumble of the crowd.
SAP Park stretched around me in a sea of red and gold, the smell of garlic heavy in the evening air. The Miners mascot was beside me, hyping up the crowd more, but my attention drifted to the dugout.
Itzel and Graciella stood at the edge of the field. Their phones were raised, one filming me with an obnoxiously proud grin. Graciella looked beautiful in her skin-tight shorts and the Miners jersey that hung off one shoulder.
I adjusted my cap and stepped onto the mound, attempting to focus. The roar of thousands of people pressed against my chest. It’d been a long time since that noise had been for me. Heard it multiple times a week during the season, but it was for my guys.
Not me.
I caught Graciella’s eye, a smile spreading across her face as she sent a wink my way.
She’d cheer for me.
The crowd faded. Nothing existed but her, and I wanted her to always be there, on the sidelines, cheering me on. Same way I’d do for her.
I threw the pitch, nearly taking out my shoulder with how much effort I’d put into it. The thud of the ball hitting the leather catcher’s mitt had the stadium erupting. The catcher tossed me a thumbs-up as I jogged off the field.
Noise chased me as security led me back down the tunnel to our seats behind the dugout. My heart sank a little at the sight of Itzel sitting there—alone.
She had her hands folded in her lap, head turning toward me as I made my way to her.
“You did great out there,” she said, a shy smile splayed across her face.
“Thanks.” I dropped into the seat beside her and exhaled hard.
Wrong woman waiting for me…
An awkward silence settled over us, nothing but the announcers filling the space with the sponsor announcements and the vendors calling out what goods they were carrying.
I grabbed the water they’d handed me after the pitch, needing to do something with my hands. Condensation cooled my palms, and I wanted to press them against the back of my neck, but that’d really give away how uncomfortable I was.
I’d turned over how to start this conversation with Itzel for days, and I still hadn’t landed on a clean way in.
The PA system crackled overhead, disrupting my thoughts.
“Let’s hear it for the starting pitcher for the San Jose Miners, José Gil.”
Itzel went rigid beside me, chin lifting a fraction of an inch as her hands tightened in her lap. She glared at the mound.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” she said, too fast for the statement to be true.
I followed her line of sight to the pitcher. He was finishing his warm-up tosses, crossing his tanned arms over his chest to stretch. His baseball hat was pulled nearly as low as I wore mine, but from the bottom of his spilled dark curls.
“You know him?” I asked, all too happy to procrastinate on the talk she and I needed to have about Graciella.
“No.” Itzel took a careful sip of her drink, eyes flicking back to the pitcher every few seconds. “I don’t know him.”
I let out a low hum. “You went stiff the second they said his name.”
“I didn’t.”
I shot her a pointed look. “Itzel.”
She exhaled through her nose, setting the cup back into the holder with a thud. “I don’t like him.”
There was enough venom in her tone that I believed her.
“Didn’t say you did.”
“He’s—” She pressed her lips together. “He’s not a good person.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Did he hurt you or something?” I was halfway out of my seat when she gripped my arm, pulling me back down.
“No, god, no. I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant… It’s just…” Another gulp. “He’s arrogant, and he’s careless, and he treats his brother like—I just don’t like him.”
“And you know this how? If you don’t know him,” I asked pointedly.
She was quiet for a second too long.
“Itzel.”
“Okay. So I know who he is. Or at least I know of him,” she said, carefully. “Through his brother.”
Something about the way her voice dropped on the last word had me leaning in to pry for more information. Happy to look into someone else’s issues for a moment.
“And who’s his brother to you?”
She kept her eyes on the field, watching José’s jog to the mound.
“Miguel,” she said with a palpable wistfulness, the tops of her cheeks staining pink.
The crush.
That must be who Miguel was to her.
“Hey,” I said, cutting through the silence that had settled between us. “I need to talk to you about something.”
I couldn’t put it off any longer.
Itzel glanced over at me, just a flick of her eyes, and whatever she saw on my face had her straightening slightly in her seat. “Okay, go ahead.”
“This arrangement between us...” I kept my eyes on the field. Easier that way. “I think it needs to end.”
The pounding in my ears dulled the crack of the bat.
“Okay,” she said again, with a little chuckle, not seeming concerned in the least. Meanwhile, my stomach tossed and turned as if I were on a rocking ship.
No, a sinking ship.
“I’ll make sure you get paid what you’re owed. I know we said through the offseason, and I know that’s not—”
“Josh.” Her voice was firm enough to make me look at her. “It’s okay. Really.”
“I’m not trying to leave you in a bad spot.”
“You’re not.” She shook her head. “You’re really not.”
I held her gaze for a second. She meant it.
“It’s because I want Graciella,” I blurted, throat closing as the words spilled.
She snorted a laugh. “I know.”
My phone buzzed, a text flashing on the screen.
It was like she heard us talking about her.
Trouble:
You did amazing out there. Should have put you in baseball pants…bet your butt would look good in them.
I smiled.
Me:
Were you checking out my ass Graciella?
A response came back almost instantly.
Trouble:
Always checking out your ass
Before I could shoot off a reply, a photo came in.
She stood somewhere in the concourse, grinning at the camera with her chin tipped up. I saved it without hesitation.
Itzel leaned over and looked at the screen. “She’s going to be so good for you.”
The Miners got a hit, and the crowd surged around us, and I sat there in the middle of all of it, processing the comment.
“We should do it sooner rather than later,” she said, after a moment. “The longer we drag it out, the messier it gets. For everyone.”
“Yeah.” I swiped my hand along my chin, stomach tightening at the idea of it getting messier than it already was. “I know.”
“I’m happy for you. Both of you.” She watched the field and nodded. Something almost wistful settled back into the line of her mouth. “I hope one day it happens to me.”
Down on the mound, José threw a strike and pumped his fist. Her jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“What about Miguel?” I asked.
Her head whipped to the side, pink back on her cheeks, deeper this time. “That’s not…I didn’t say—”
I shrugged, biting back my smirk. “You didn’t have to.”
“It’s complicated.”
My brow shot up. Her excuse rivaled my own pathetic ones. “Fake dating someone while wanting to be with her best friend, who is also your PR manager, and you might lose your career over it—complicated?”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, so maybe complicated isn’t the right word for it.”
I smiled at her, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. “So, what is the word for it?”
“Scary?” She pulled at a thread on the hem of her shorts.
“Mostly because I don’t…I don’t know how to…
I’m not sure he thinks of me that way.” She tossed a hand in the air.
“And I was supposed to use this whole thing as a way of getting better at dating since I’ve never been in a relationship.
I mean, you were my first date, and that wasn’t even—”
“Wait.” I blinked a few times. “I was your first date? We never should have done that.”
She winced.
“I just mean, I was a shitty first date. Talked about Graciella the whole time.” I blew out a puff of air. “Don’t count that one. As far as anyone’s concerned, you’ve never been on a date.” I took a drink to stop myself from blurting out more.
Itzel groaned and dropped her head into her hands.
“No. That sounds worse. What twenty-six-year-old has never been on a date?” She pointed a finger at me, eyes narrowing.
“No, I’m telling people I went on a date with a Stanley Cup-winning coach.
They don’t need to know it kind of sucked, and you’re not my type.
” Her hands shot to her mouth, eyes wide as saucers. “I’m so sorry. That was not kind.”
The words came out muffled.
“It’s fine, Itzel.” I smiled. “Have you said anything to him? Let him know you exist?”
It was meant to be a joke, but the way she gnawed on her lip…
“Itzel.”
“I’m shy,” she said, a little defensively, glaring.
“Well, if you don’t want to be twenty-seven and never have been on a real date with anyone, then maybe you should tell him you like him.”
She exhaled through her nose, facing me full on.
“Maybe you should take your own advice.”
The crack of a bat punctuated her statement, a double play causing the crowd to jump around us. Like they were cheering in agreement. Like they all knew I’d been a bitch about locking Graciella down. Letting excuses get between me and telling her she was mine.
I reached for my phone and pulled up our messages, thumbs hovering for half a second. I typed before I could talk myself out of it.
Me:
Fireworks show tonight. Meet me in the stairwell at the end of the third base concourse. Section 114. Nine o’clock.