10. Evan #2
By the time he parked at the hotel, the sun was beginning to set, painting the courtyard in soft gold and orange.
He killed the engine, grabbed his bag, and started toward his room, slowing when he spotted a familiar figure sitting at one of the tables near the walkway.
CJ was slouched in a chair, sun-bronzed legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, head tipped back, sunglasses covering his eyes, throat bare and ridiculously tempting.
Evan swallowed hard and looked away quickly.
Not that it helped anything. He could see the collision course they were on, and maybe it would be better to rip the Band-aid off.
They were staying in rooms next door to each other.
They were teammates again. They were expected to be best friends, reunited.
Or at least be able to fake it convincingly.
So when CJ lifted his head and looked at him, Evan didn’t flinch. He didn’t speed-walk to his room and pretend he hadn’t seen him. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he was stupid. Maybe he was both. Either way, he walked toward him.
CJ sat up straighter. “Hey.” His voice was soft and a little tentative, like he wasn’t sure what version of Evan he’d get.
“Hey.” Evan stayed standing, not ready to sit that close to CJ again. He looked around, relieved to see the courtyard empty except for them.
CJ cleared his throat. “Look, we should talk—”
Evan’s jaw ticked. “About what exactly?”
CJ stared at him for a moment, then ran a hand through his hair, and Evan tried not to remember that it was a classic CJ tell for nervous as hell. Something twitched in his chest anyway. CJ took a breath. “I owe you an apology.”
Evan went very still.
CJ kept going, words tumbling out of his mouth like he was afraid Evan would cut him off. “The breakup…in college. I wasn’t fair to you. I handled it shitty, and I should have apologized a long time ago.”
Evan knew exactly where CJ was headed, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to go there. “CJ,” he warned, his voice low.
CJ pushed on anyway. “You didn’t deserve the way I pulled back. Or how I acted after Matt saw us. I freaked out. I shut down. And I made you feel like you were the mistake.”
Evan’s stomach twisted. There were a dozen ways he could respond: polite dismissal, shrug it off, a sarcastic quip. But none of them seemed to fit, so he said nothing. CJ kept talking like Evan’s silence was a green light instead of a warning sign.
“I should’ve talked to you sooner. I should’ve explained. I shouldn’t have let you think that—”
“Don’t do that,” Evan snapped.
It wasn’t loud, but it was sharp enough to make CJ’s mouth finally stop moving.
CJ blinked. “Do what?”
“Don’t rewrite it into something clean. It wasn’t clean.” Evan folded his arms across his chest. “And it sure as hell wasn’t just you ‘handling it shitty.’”
CJ’s expression flickered with something that might have been remorse. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“Yes, you did.”
CJ’s eyes widened. “What? No— Evan, I—”
“You didn’t mean to do it that much. But you knew what you were doing.
You knew what pulling away would do.” Evan met his gaze head-on, refusing to soften his glare or his words.
“You avoided me for days. You made me think that maybe we could fix it if I just stayed quiet long enough. You left me waiting for you to look at me and decide I wasn’t worth the risk. ”
CJ’s face crumpled. “I was scared.”
“So was I,” Evan said, his voice flat. “Difference is, I didn’t punish you for it.”
CJ flinched like Evan had actually hit him. Good. Maybe honesty could bruise. He kept going because the dam had cracked and he couldn’t hold back the flood any longer.
“You want to apologize? Fine. But don’t make it tidy. Don’t make it sound like you just slipped up. You chose your fear of being seen over us. And you chose baseball over me. That’s the part that hurt.”
CJ swallowed, and the tendons in his throat strained with the effort. “Evan,” he said quietly. He sounded wrecked. “I know.”
“Do you?” Evan asked, stepping closer. “Or do you just feel guilty now that we’re stuck on the same roster and forced to play nice?”
“That’s not fair.”
“No,” Evan agreed. “But neither was what you did.”
Their eyes locked. A charged, heated, unspeakable history lived between them, and it hurt like an unhealed wound.
CJ opened his mouth. Closed it. Then tried again. “I don’t expect forgiveness.”
“Good,” Evan said. “Because I don’t have it.”
Silence settled between them, and they stared at each other until CJ looked away.
“So where does that leave us?” CJ finally asked.
“We’re teammates. That’s all we need to be.” The words came out sharper than he intended, and for a moment, he wished he could rewind and make them softer. But CJ accepted the hit like it was deserved.
“Got it.” He glanced down at his hands, and Evan wondered if the smell of leather and rosin still lived on them.
“This is my team,” Evan said, not sure why he felt the need to explain.
“I know.” CJ nodded slowly.
“And my life.”
CJ didn’t flinch as he met Evan’s gaze. “I know.”
Evan sighed. “I can’t… I can’t be the guy who gets knocked sideways because you walk into a room.”
CJ stared at him for a long beat before he spoke. “Me either.”
“So, teammates.”
CJ nodded once. “I guess I’ll have to live with that.
” He pressed his lips together like he was trying to decide whether to continue speaking, then he nodded again, more to himself than to Evan, and stood.
“I won’t—” He swallowed, and Evan didn’t watch the bob of his Adam’s apple. “I’ll stay out of your way.”
Evan shook his head and ignored his brain begging him to let CJ’s words be the end of their conversation. “You don’t have to.”
CJ blinked at him. “Evan.”
“We’re on the same team,” Evan said, and it was a version of the truth that would hold up if anyone wanted to look into what he really meant. “We don’t do that here.”
“Okay,” CJ said softly.
When Evan didn’t speak again, CJ left and crossed the courtyard to his room, pausing with his hand on the knob before he disappeared inside.
The quiet that followed felt heavier than their conversation had.
Evan stayed where he was for a moment, staring at CJ’s closed door and trying to convince himself that the tight pinch in his chest was leftover adrenaline and not…
whatever else it wanted to be. He scrubbed his hands over his face, grabbed his bag, and finally forced himself to move down the short path to his room.
The pressure under his ribs hadn’t eased at all by the time he let himself in.
He stood there for a moment, eyes closed as he leaned his back against the door before sliding down until he was sitting on the floor with his knees up and his hands in his hair.