Chapter 33
Tenny
“Ground to glove!” the infield coach barks at me when I miss yet another short hop.
We’ve been doing fielding drills for the last ten minutes, but I keep missing every third ball because I’m looking for Alex.
She’s supposed to conduct her pregame interviews on the field today—that’s what Patrick told us on the bus ride over.
I should be focusing, but I want to catch the exact second the Arizona sun makes her blonde hair glow.
It’s surprising how much I already miss Alex. So much so that I passed on going out with the guys last night, hoping to video chat with her. In the end, Alex wasn’t available, so the hotel’s pillow-stacked headboard paired with my latest audiobook was my evening entertainment.
Rhett gave me a hard time about it this morning, but there were too many people around to tell him that Alex and I are back together.
Then, after breakfast, he tucked away in a corner with his phone, like he’s been doing for the last few weeks.
I couldn’t get him alone before I went to lunch with Coach Randy, like I always do when we play in Phoenix.
Glancing at the plate where Rhett is doing batting practice, I make a mental note to ask him about his cagey behavior later.
When Alex finally climbs the dugout stairs onto the field, an audible sigh leaves my mouth, followed immediately by a hard grunt when the baseball I failed to catch hits me in the gut. Alex quirks an eyebrow at me, and I’m helpless to do anything but smile back.
Calling to my coach for a break, I drop my glove and jog over. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Alex tucks a wavy strand behind her ear and ducks her chin almost as if she’s…nervous? The corner of my mouth kicks up as a warmth weaves between my ribs. Alex is always so breathtakingly confident that it’s kind of adorable seeing her this way.
I reach out and straighten her flipped press badge just to give my antsy fingers something to do. “Where’s Daphne?”
Alex’s gaze is caught somewhere between my collarbones and my Adam’s apple.
“Um.” She gives her head a little shake. “Her sister’s wedding. We have a fill-in cameraman today—Steve.”
I lower my voice, moving a half-step closer. “How long do we have until Steve shows up?”
Alex finally meets my gaze, a challenge in her beautiful brown eyes. “We’re surrounded by the rest of your team and the coaching staff.”
“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t trip and fall into my arms.” My smile shifts into something devious. “Maybe when that happens, my lips accidentally brush your temple…or your neck.”
Her bottom lip tucks between her teeth before Alex makes a show of rolling her eyes.
“I’m not clumsy.”
“You could be,” I challenge, my gaze roaming today’s outfit: a snug top, a pencil skirt, and of course, her Vans.
Her sleeveless blouse has tiny ruffles at the shoulder. They’re wholly distracting as they flutter in the desert breeze. I want to trace them with my fingertips and then run my palm down Alex’s arm until I intertwine our fingers.
My hand flexes as I force myself to hold still.
“I need to ask you something first.” Alex frowns as she straightens her spine.
“You ask, I answer. That’s basically our thing.”
My jokey attempt to lighten the mood fails miserably as Alex grimaces, blinking away. A few seconds pass, her lips opening and then closing.
“Who’s Rory?” she finally whispers.
My neck warms as I rub at my eyebrow. “Zona said something, didn’t she?”
“Answer the question, Tenny.” Alex’s gaze snaps to me, a flicker of determination etching her brow.
“She’s you,” I admit, shoulders sagging. “I didn’t know your name after our kiss in college, but I thought about you all the time. I wanted to have something to call you, so I picked Rory.”
“She’s me?”
My fingers curl when Alex’s eyes mist.
“Yeah. I used that name when I spoke about you to my family because Zona has a habit of putting my entire life on display. I didn’t want our relationship to jeopardize your career.” I take a step back even though every cell in my body is screaming to wrap Alex in my arms. “I still don’t.”
Alex’s lower lip wobbles before she bites it. “I’m sorry, Tenny.”
“For what?” My ribs feel like they’re caving in, seeing her this upset.
“I— I didn’t understand. I thought you were dating someone else while also kissing me. I thought—” Alex runs frustrated fingers through her hair before fisting her hands at the base of her neck. “I told Cecil to run that interview because I was hurt by what you’d done.”
My mind replays all those terrible moments through this lens, making Alex’s actions as easy to understand as a post-game recap.
“I should have talked to you instead of assuming the worst. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, because it is.
As uncomfortable as that was, it got us here.
It’s what drove me into the surf with Alex trailing behind.
It’s what encouraged her to suggest we work on our mental hangups—together.
It’s what led me to realize I love Alex right before her kiss and her words settled all the itchy, insecure parts of my soul.
She stares at the ground as she shakes her head. “It’s not. I’m going to be better. I’m going to do better by you.”
I’m about to do something reckless—like grip her chin to draw her attention back to me—when something fast flies in my peripheral vision.
I only have half a second to react, but that’s more than I need.
Roughly shifting Alex into the crook of my left arm, I reach out my right hand to catch Rhett’s foul ball before it hits her in the back of her head.
Alex gasps as it smacks against my bare palm with a sharp slap.
I hiss, dropping the ball to shake out my throbbing hand.
“Are you okay?” I ask, dipping my chin until soothing eucalyptus fills my nose.
Alex tilts her chin up, her lips parted with a shaky breath. It would only take a slight shift for me to capture her mouth with mine. Electricity collects at the base of my spine as all my muscles tense.
“Alex?” My tone is rougher than a brick wall, my restraint a hair’s breadth.
“That was great!” a boisterous voice brings me back to the field. “I got it all.”
Alex and I look toward the bearded cameraman watching us through a viewfinder as reality crashes in like an uncoordinated percussionist knocking over cymbals. Alex is still in my arms—albeit for a very good reason—but now would be a good time to let her go.
Reluctantly, I release my grip, allowing my palm to trace an affectionate sweep over her lower back before I fully step away. The way Alex sways into my touch makes my chest burn.
I clear my throat. “Are you okay, Ms. Stevens?”
“Yes.” She nods, her fingertips shaky as she accepts a microphone from Steve. “Thank you…for your quick reflexes.”
An almost-cocky smile settles over my mouth—the one I usually use for interviews. “I’m well known for my reaction times.”
I see the exact second Alex restrains her snarky response, and I cheer internally, watching her fire return. Alex resets, pulling her mouth into her reporter’s grin, the microphone poised beneath her chin.
“Still rolling,” Steve prompts.
Alex waits a few beats before asking, “How are you feeling about today’s game against the Phoenix Rattlers?”
I answer the question, but I’m already looking forward to after the game, when we can drop all the on-camera posturing and just be us.
Though we won against the Rattlers several times during spring training, they’re putting up a good fight tonight. We’re well into the sixth inning before I even get on base. The corner of my mouth kicks up, even though I’m one-for-three, because Alex will tease me about it later.
Removing my elbow and shin guards, I make small talk with their first baseman. “Hey, Matty.”
“Jackson.”
I almost snort while handing the batboy my batting gloves. Matt Walker is almost as personable as Shane, except he has players coming through his position. At least Shane is all by himself in right field, so he can grumble to his heart’s delight without his bad mood affecting anyone else.
“Nice day.”
Matt grunts.
I step several feet away from the base, leading off toward second while Colton hits a foul ball down the third baseline. As I stride back to touch the base, Matt smiles at me—or at least I think it’s a smile? His teeth are showing too much, the grin wet and freakishly wide.
Whatever it is, it’s wholly unnatural.
“I saw you catch that reporter earlier.”
“Yeah.” I chuckle, keeping my face neutral. No need for everyone to know it was the highlight of my day. “I was just at the right place at the right time. That ball would have knocked her out cold.”
“I would have liked to see that,” he says as I lead off again.
Colton sends the next pitch into the net behind the plate.
“What did you say?” I ask, my pulse thick in my neck.
Surely, I must have misheard him. The stadium is really loud tonight.
“I would have liked to see her pretty face hit the dirt. Women like that always get whatever they want, do whatever they want. They need to get knocked down a bit.”
“Excuse me?” My stomach pitches like he just force-fed me wet garbage.
“I’ve seen her reporting,” Matt continues, watching the batter, though my attention is trained on the side of his pockmarked face. “She’s too confident.”
“Alex has every right to be confident. She’s an incredible reporter.”
Matt makes a dismissive noise. “She probably only got that job from being a little—”
I shove his chest when the derogatory word drops from his ugly lips. “You don’t talk about her like that.”
Matt stumbles off base, eyes wide. “I can say whatever I want.”
“Not about her, you can’t.” My hands fist at my sides, but it’s Matt who takes the first swing.
I rear back, his fist barely missing my jaw. Matt’s face reddens as I raise my balled hands, ready to take him down a notch. Gasps and murmurs erupt throughout the stadium as we square off. Before I can hit Matt in his foul mouth, Rhett and Shane flank me, yanking me backward.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I struggle against their strong holds, the irony not lost on me. Last season, Rhett and I had to hold Trevor back from pummeling our jerk teammate, Aaron, when he’d been bad-mouthing Kenzie.
“As it stands, you’re going to get ejected,” Shane tells me, breathing hard as I fight his firm grip. “But since you didn’t swing, the suspension is likely to be minor. If you hit him, you’ll be out multiple games with fines and lost pay. Is that what you want?”
“Yes.” My answer is a visceral growl.
I want Matt to pay for his horrendous comment. I want him to have a nice dark bruise, reminding him to watch his mouth when talking about Alex. I want his stupid, ugly brain to ring in his thick skull from the power of my punch.
Trevor steps in front of me, already wearing his catcher’s gear in preparation for the next inning. “Let it go, Tenny.”
“But—” I glance at Matt, my teeth grinding together. “He was trash-talking the woman I love. He deserves it.”
Shane scoffs. “Of course this is over some woman.”
“Alex isn’t just ‘some woman,’” I say, my jaw tightening.
“She’s the only one who fully accepts me for who I am.
It doesn’t matter if I’m zero-for-four or hit another grand slam, Alex cares about me.
Not to mention that she makes me laugh when I feel like I’m spiraling but is also strong enough to call me out when I need it. ”
“She’s—” I huff a frustrated breath that I can’t quite encapsulate everything that Alex means to me. Though I’m usually verbose, I’m almost at a loss for words now. “She’s my person.”
Since Rhett and Shane have gone eerily quiet, I focus on our catcher. “Trevor, you get it. Tell these two to let me go.”
Trevor shakes his head with a controlled exhale. “It will work itself out. Things like this usually do.”
He’s referencing when his wife Kenzie had been the one to finally punch Aaron in his smug face in our clubhouse last season.
Though, I can’t imagine a scenario in which Alex would get the same opportunity.
A shudder racks through me at the thought.
I never want Alex to know about the terrible things Matt said.
My chin dips as I stop struggling against my teammate’s hold.
“Tenny, I have to ask you to leave,” Manuel, the first base umpire, tells me as he breaks into our circle.
A sigh escapes me. “I understand.”
Manuel pats me on the shoulder when he should be giving me the ejection signal. “You’re not one to lose your cool.”
I nod as Rhett and Shane release my arms. What I really want is to explain myself and then call Matt every expletive known to man. That would be a tiny consolation prize since I didn’t get to displace a tooth. But with the fog of shocked anger clearing, I’m able to hold my tongue.
Keeping my head up, I march toward the dugout. I made my choices, and now I have to pay for them. The only good thing about this altercation is that it will in no way affect Alex.