Chapter 18
Trevor
“Come on, old man! Get up and dance,” Tenny goads me, his sapphire tennis necklace flashing in the club lights beside our VIP table.
Normally, I’m down for a little post-game team bonding, especially since we annihilated the Mustangs tonight, but right now, I’d rather be on the couch with Kenzie and our cats, especially since we’re only four days into this nine-game homestand.
Instead, I’m at some overcrowded club for a Cinco de Mayo-themed EDM dance party.
I check the time and groan when only ten minutes have passed before setting my phone face down on the table.
I don’t even know why we’re out. Most of us aren’t drinking because we have two more games against the Cincinnati-based team followed by three games against the Miami Sharks.
Two pitchers of virgin margaritas crowd the sticky tabletop next to the bottle of tequila Aaron is using to spike his drinks.
Since he doesn’t have to pitch again until Thursday’s game, he’s pouring with a liberal hand and getting sloppier by the minute.
The more he drinks, the more he talks, making it harder not to slap him upside the head. Yet another reason why I wish I’d refused the invitation like Kai, DJ, and Ricky did. But since I’m technically single, I got roped into coming.
“You’re not getting any younger, grandpa,” Rhett Wells, our shortstop, joins in. “You’ve got to move while those hips still work.”
Internally, I roll my eyes. Since I’m almost a decade older than most of the single players, I get these kinds of comments a lot.
Tenny and Rhett are twenty-five. Aaron is a year younger, like most of the pitching roster.
Our other outfielders, Colton Ashford and Jace Sawyer, are both twenty-six.
The married players—who got to go home to their families instead of being subjected to the electronically mutilated Selena song blasting through the speakers—are in their late twenties and early thirties, but still several years younger than me.
“I’m good here. Thanks.” I lean back against the booth seat, casually dangling my alcohol-free beer over the top as if my shoulders don’t ache.
My teammates don’t even look tired with the way they’re bouncing around like untrained puppies.
The chorus of boos at my response quickly fades when a group of women in barely there dresses join us.
I avert my gaze when one of them stands directly in front of me.
I don’t want to be witness to her eventual wardrobe malfunction since her dress looks like it’s held together with dental floss.
“Hey, there,” she coos. “Mind if I join you?”
I cough hard into my fist before meeting her gaze. “I’m a little under the weather. I’d keep your distance so you don’t catch my cold.”
Though I’m not fond of lying, I really don’t want this kind of attention tonight.
Actually, I never want this kind of attention anymore.
When I’d been young, stupid, and lonely in a new city with only my teammates to talk to, I often said yes.
That was before I understood that these kinds of women only care about my money and status.
After a few heartbreaks, I decided it was easier to be single.
“You can sit on me, sweetheart,” Aaron slurs, flopping onto the other side of the wrap-around booth and patting his knee.
I shoot to my feet. If I’m within striking distance of Aaron when he slobbers over another woman like he didn’t just break Kenzie’s heart, I’m not going to be able to restrain myself. And then I’m going to end up with a suspension and potential assault charges.
“Where are you going?” Tenny chases after me as I stalk toward the main club area.
“Home.” I growl the word.
Tenny’s brows bunch together at my moody response, reminding me that I’m never like this with my teammates. I’m always the one keeping everyone together, the uplifter, the friendly guy. We don’t have team captains in baseball, but in any other sport, that’d be my role.
Before I can correct myself, he punches me playfully in the shoulder. “I get it. Gotta rest up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I reach the bouncers before realizing my phone is face-down on the table. With an annoyed huff, I turn around, politely pushing my way through the crowd to the roped-off VIP section. Most of the guys are dancing with the women, oblivious to my return.
Good. I just need to grab my phone and get out of here.
Aaron’s back is to me, but just as I move to slip past him, his words make me pause.
“See, I’m kind of in a bind,” he tells the woman on his lap while playing with her thin dress strap. “My stupid grandma won’t give me my money, which is so unfair because it’s my money. Grandpa said so before he died.”
I bristle at his whiny tone. Aaron is a prototypical rich boy.
I should know because I was surrounded by them growing up.
Private-school types with trust funds and no sense of empathy.
Most baseball players come from middle-class families, but every once in a while, you get a guy like Aaron who thinks he’s entitled to everything.
“Grandma put in a ridiculous condition that I need to be married by my twenty-fifth birthday for my trust to be released. Otherwise, I have to wait until forty. And the thing is, I had a girl—hook, line, and sinker.” His cruel laugh makes every muscle in my body tighten.
“She was so gullible. A simple, small-town hick. I knew there’d be no problem getting her to sign a prenup, boxing her out of my inheritance, but then that all went down in flames. ”
My vision grays at the edges as blinding-white fury surges through my bloodstream.
“That’s why I’m offering you a deal. I need a wife on paper, and with the time crunch, I’m not above paying you.
I just can’t have you as part of my public life or my career.
If you can be a very good girl and follow the rules”—Aaron’s hand smoothes over her shoulder and up her neck—“we could come to a financially lucrative agreement. But whatever I say goes, at all times.”
Bile crawls up my throat at his lecherous tone, and I almost dry heave.
“In the end, it’s a trade up for me.” He chuckles. “You’re much sexier than that boring, mousey—”
“Miss, stand up,” I command, stepping in front of them and pocketing my phone.
The woman jumps up, catching the outstretched hands of her friend.
A higher-functioning part of my brain is grateful that the women have shuffled to a safe distance because my baser instincts are dead set on making sure Aaron leaves this club with something broken, preferably multiple things.
I grab Aaron by the collar of his designer shirt and shove him against the wall, drawing gasps from everyone around us.
“What the—” Aaron’s startled question breaks off in a curse when I slam him into the wall again.
“You don’t talk about Kenzie that way.” I spit the words in his tequila-scented face. “Do you hear me? The lies you told to the press were bad enough without you—”
“Bro, chill.” Aaron rolls his pretentious eyes at me. “This isn’t a big deal.”
“Isn’t a big deal?” My question is borderline hysterical.
“Trevor, take a breath.” Tenny’s words enter my subconscious, but I’m not done with Aaron.
“If I ever hear you speaking that way about Kenzie again, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Aaron sneers. “Give me a motivational speech about how to be a better person? I’m not scared of someone who doesn’t have the backbone to follow through. Face it, Chapman. You’re not the threat-making type.”
Lighter fluid careens through my veins because Aaron just unknowingly struck a match. I’m not usually the threatening type, but I have no problem protecting those I love. It’s just a side of my personality my teammates have never seen.
My fist rears back just as Tenny and Rhett flank me, grabbing my arms and pulling me away.
“No.” I struggle against my teammates’ firm grip. “He deserves it.”
Aaron’s smug smile feels like salt in a very deep wound, but then I see a flicker in his eyes as he straightens—fear. He covers it by tugging at his collar, gesturing to his ripped shirt.
“You’ll need to pay for that,” he tuts.
“Have your grandma pay for it,” I tell him, still fighting against Tenny and Rhett’s hold.
Indignation stains his cheeks. “Not everyone has a nice fat contract, Chapman. But don’t worry, once I’m done showing the owner that it’s time to shake things up, that donating to geriatric players is a waste of money, this organization will be much more streamlined.”
Tenny and Rhett barely contain me as I surge forward again. Aaron ducks to the side, snaking his arm around another woman’s waist.
“Let’s get out of here,” he says.
“That’s not even the woman you were talking to.”
“Does it matter? They’re all interchangeable.” Aaron’s arrogant face is so punchable it’s a shame my teammates spend as long in the weight room as I do.
“Now I want to punch him,” Tenny tells Rhett.
“Me too,” Rhett says through gritted teeth. “But it’s not worth our careers.”
Logic finally worms its way through my anger. Aaron isn’t worth losing something we’ve worked our whole lives for. As the adrenaline dissipates, I’m left with a twisted sensation in my gut. I need to tell Kenzie about this. She should know how Aaron manipulated her.
My phone vibrates in my pocket just as Tenny and Rhett finally let me go.
“You okay?” Tenny slaps my chest.
He’s always been a physical guy—big on hugs, high fives, and back pats. More often than not, he jokes with whatever runner is on first base in between plays.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“Don’t worry about Lawson,” Rhett says. “He’s talking nonsense. None of the higher-ups want to get rid of you.”
That’s always the niggling fear in the back of a baseball player’s mind.
There are literally hundreds of guys vying for a chance at “The Show,” for the opportunity to get on a team and make their mark on baseball history.
You have to be at the top of your game at all times because you’re so easily replaceable.
Though, right now, that isn’t even crossing my mind. All I can think about is Kenzie’s face when she finds out how Aaron deceived her. She’ll be devastated, and there will probably be crying. There’s little I hate more than Kenzie crying.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” I tell them before pushing toward the exit.
After I get into my truck, the text message I missed pops up on the center console screen.
Kenzie
Hey! I’m still up. I know, shocker. Anyway, I have a surprise for you when you get home. Great game tonight!
The ache in my chest intensifies as I shift into gear.
Trevor
Can’t wait to see you.
At least that part isn’t a lie.
Because, unfortunately, I have a surprise for Kenzie too—just not the good kind.