Bonus Epilogue
June
“Y’all go ahead, I’ll catch a ride home with Austin.” I know he’s going to be beating himself up over the lost game, and it’s my duty as his friend to cheer him up.
Kelsey holds one clenched fist above her head and moves it around like she’s about to throw a lasso.
I squeeze her side, and she squeals. “Okay, I think you had one too many bags of cotton candy.”
“Don’t tell Frankenstein.” Kelsey giggles. The nicknames she has for her doctor-boyfriend are nauseatingly adorable. “He thinks cotton candy is bad for me.”
“That’s because it is bad for you. It’s pure sugar.”
She shakes her head. “As I’ve told him, it’s good for the soul, and that’s all that matters to me.”
I sigh. “I wish I had your metabolism.”
She smacks my butt. “And I wish I had your booty. Seriously, how much Pilates does a girl need to do to have that perfectly sculpted—”
Shayna steps forward and loops her arm through Kelsey’s. “Okay, girl, time to go.”
“Watch out for her,” I call after them and Mallory as they walk toward the ballpark’s exit. “She’s on a sugar high.”
“We’ve got her.” Mallory turns and waves. “Have fun with your man.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.
I offer a half-hearted wave back before heading to the waiting area for the players’ loved ones.
I flash the bodyguard-slash-bouncer—I’m not sure what his exact title is—a smile and the VIP key card Austin gives me every season.
“Hi, Henry.” He’s truly the largest man I’ve seen in my life.
I’m five-foot-eight, but he towers over me and has the shoulders of a professional linebacker.
I’ve always called him Hank the Tank in my mind.
I’m not sure he’d appreciate me saying it aloud.
Henry remains stoic as he scans my key card. “Ms. Cartwright.” He opens the door for me.
I step into the tunnel. “Have a wonderful day, Henry,” I call over my shoulder in my cheeriest voice.
He grunts in response before shutting the door. One of these days I’ll get a smile out of him.
I walk through the tunnel, saying quick hellos to a few of the family members and wives of players I know.
Instead of waiting with them for Austin to find me after he leaves the locker room, I head out the exit leading to the private parking lot.
Whenever they lose a game, Austin does press, showers, and heads right to his car so he can go home and work out his frustration through baking or binge-watching one of his favorite shows.
Since today’s loss ended with him striking out, I’m guessing it will be a baking and binge-watching kind of night.
The second I step into the covered outdoor lot, the summer humidity hits me full force.
I quickly spot Austin’s white Ford Escape in his assigned parking spot and walk over to it.
I’ve only been waiting for a few minutes when Austin walks outside.
His head is down, and water drips from his hair like he just finished showering and couldn’t be bothered to even run a towel through it. He must be in really bad shape.
“Hey,” I say, not wanting to startle him. It would be extremely difficult for a crazed fan to get into this area, but I wouldn’t put it past someone who wanted to see a professional MLB player bad enough to sneak their way back here.
Austin tilts his chin up at my voice. “Hey, Lyssa.”
I offer him a sympathetic smile. “You’ll get ’em next time, Slugger.”
He sighs. “I lost it for the team. Dawson was on third. All I needed was a solid hit to send him home and tie up the game.”
I place my hands on my hips. “Do you blame Fletcher for not catching the ball that was hit right at him?” Austin shakes his head.
“Because if he had caught that ball rather than ducking, that would’ve been the third out y’all needed in the top of the eighth.
Then the Mallards wouldn’t have scored those last two runs that let them win the game.
” I reach out and give his arm a reassuring squeeze.
“You can’t pin the whole game on yourself just because you were the last up to bat. ”
Austin pulls me to him. With my face just under his neck, I’m hit with a whiff of his cologne. The spicy hints of amber fill my senses, then mellow into a sweet vanilla. It’s perfect. It’s him. I inhale the smell before I realize what I’m doing.
He’s my friend. That’s all he can be. I can’t have him catching me sniffing his cologne.
“Thank you,” he whispers as he squeezes me.
“Anytime.” I pull back, needing some fresh air to cool me down, but I’m just met with the stifling humidity of summer in Louisville. Not helpful. “Could you drop me off at home?”
“I have a better idea.” His lips tilt up into a half grin, like my efforts to cheer him up partially worked but he’s still not fully over the loss. “Want to try out the new raspberry–white chocolate chip cookie recipe I found and watch New Girl?”
I really should say no. Spending so much time with an insanely attractive man who stuck me firmly in the friendzone isn’t good for my heart. But I’m a glutton for punishment.
I nod. “Always.”
You won’t want to miss Alyssa's book, I Wish He Would—a friends to lovers, baseball romcom.