Chapter two
Grady
Scottie takes a large drink of her vodka cranberry, keeping her eyes locked on the bar in front of her.
“Easy there, tiger.”
“Trust me. This conversation will go a lot faster with a little liquid courage.”
I huff out a laugh and take a sip of my drink, still reeling from how quickly the evening turned around.
Being back in Scottie’s presence is like taking a breath after being underwater for hours.
I know it’s impossible to hold your breath that long, but now that she’s sitting in front of me, I feel alive again, like a weight was just lifted from my chest.
And fuck. She’s even more gorgeous than I remember.
“Start talking, Scottie,” I say, trying to remain patient, but my mind is spinning.
I need something from her so the pieces of the puzzle that comprised our friendship can start to make fucking sense.
Losing contact with her fucking stung, but I don’t think I realized just how much it affected me until now.
I’m simultaneously elated and angry seeing her tonight, and the last thing I want is for our reunion to go sour.
But damn it, I have questions and she’s the one with all the answers.
She pats my thigh. “Let’s talk about you first.”
“If you start this, we’re just going to keep going back and forth all night.”
She reaches over and covers my hand with her palm, the heat of her touch sending a bolt of electricity straight down my spine to my groin.
Jesus. She practically just electrocuted me.
“I’m sorry about your arm,” she continues with a sad tilt of her lips.
A grunt escapes me, the same reaction I give anyone who offers me their condolences about my career. “It is what it is.”
“Still. You were at the top of your game. It sucks to go out like that.”
“Believe me. I lived it. I know.” I drain the rest of my glass and motion to the bartender for another.
“Torn rotator cuff?”
Blowing out a breath, I wipe my palms on my jeans and nod. “I knew something was wrong the game before.”
“Grady…” Her brows draw together, but I continue before she can say anything else.
“But I didn’t want to believe it. I kept telling myself I was just sore.
We were on a three-day game series, and my age was catching up to me.
Years of beating up my body was finally taking its toll, so I didn’t tell anyone and kept playing through the pain. ”
“And then it was beyond repair when you tore the tendons.”
I nod, intercepting my fresh whiskey, taking down a large gulp. “Yeah.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
I cast my gaze in her direction before taking another sip. “No one to blame but myself.”
Scottie reaches for my hand again, squeezing it, but then a twinkle in her eye appears. “Can I ask you one more thing about baseball and then we can leave the topic alone for tonight?”
I arch a brow at her. “Okay…”
Leaning closer, she flashes me that smile I didn’t realize I missed so fucking much and says, “Did you throw up before your first MLB game?”
My head falls back as laughter pours out of me, a deep-rooted laugh that I feel all the way down to my toes. Fuck, I needed that. When I gain my composure, watching her sip her drink around the straw tucked between her teeth, her mouth spread with pleasure, I reply, “I did.”
She shakes her head at me. “It was only a matter of time.”
“What about you? Any more keg stands gone bad while you were in college?”
She chuckles. “A few, but like you, my focus was on the game. I didn’t party nearly as much as my teammates, but I did enough damage the few times I went out.” Her smile falls and just like that, the light in her eyes starts to fade as well.
My heart hammers as I repeat my question from earlier. “What happened, Scottie?”
“You made it to the big leagues, Reynolds,” she says quietly. “And I didn’t.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I know. Right after I got drafted you were telling me about the national women’s team, and then you weren’t on the roster the next season at Georgia.
What went wrong?” I remember trying to find as much information as I could about her, but there was nothing to find.
It was as if her entire softball career vanished overnight.
She blows out a breath, tilts her head at me, and says something I wasn’t expecting. “I got pregnant, Grady.”
My eyebrows climb up my forehead. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah.” She takes another sip from her drink as she stares off to the side of the bar.
“He just turned fourteen. His name is Chase and…” A soft smile spreads across her lips.
“He changed my life in the best way.” Our eyes meet again.
“I thought I had my future planned out, but God showed me that I was meant for more. I was meant to be Chase’s mom, and I don’t regret having him for a second. ”
My heart hammers again as I think about how that must have felt for her. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you text me back?”
“It’s complicated,” she mutters, draining her glass and then motioning for another from the bartender.
“So uncomplicate it.”
She stirs the ice cubes around in her empty glass, avoiding my eyes. “Chase’s dad…” My hackles instantly rise. “I thought I knew him, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that people can surprise you. He was controlling and I didn’t realize it until it was too late.”
“Did he hurt you?” Murder wasn’t something I thought I was ever capable of until this moment, but if I find out her ex put his hands on her, I might just accept my fate to make sure he never does it again.
“No, he didn’t hurt me, not physically,” she interjects quickly. She blows out a breath and forces a smile. “But thankfully, that’s not something I have to deal with anymore. I’m proudly divorced and have no regrets about leaving him.”
“I’m sorry.” Reaching between us, I grab her hand, our fingers threading together.
It feels so natural touching her like this, hearing her voice again, waiting anxiously for what’s going to come out of her mouth next.
I swear, I’m seventeen all over again, sitting in math class, wishing our time together wouldn’t end.
“No need to apologize. Things worked out the way they should have.” Her words sound rehearsed, like she’s said them so many times now they come out with ease.
Guess I’m not the only one who’s gotten good at giving people the response they want rather than the freaking truth.
“So please tell me your girlfriend knows you’re out drinking alone tonight,” she says next, her assumption catching me off guard.
“Is that your way of asking if I’m single?”
She smirks around the rim of her glass. “Maybe.”
“No girlfriend, Scottie. No wife either.”
“You never married?”
“Didn’t really have time to focus on that aspect of my life.”
“I always wondered. There wasn’t much about your personal life in the news articles and stuff.”
“You were keeping tabs on me?” I pinch her knee, making her squeal.
“Hey! I told you I would be rooting for you. I just did it…quietly.”
“What are you up to now?” Our hands remain linked between us as I wait for her reply.
“I work in education now. My degree was in early childhood development, so I decided to become a teacher. Now I’m in administration.”
“Good for you. I bet the kids love you.”
“Not as much as I love them.” She clears her throat and directs the conversation back to me. “I heard you turned into a grease monkey.”
I lift my glass to my lips. “You heard right. I bought the Carrington Cove Garage from Mr. Rogers shortly after I moved home.”
She studies me for a moment. “I don’t see it.”
“See what?”
“You. Working on cars.” She pauses, a pinch in her brow.
“Wait. No shirt on.” She draws a check mark in the air.
“Overalls with one strap undone.” She shakes her head.
“No. Just a pair of jeans with grease stains and a rag sticking out of your back pocket.” She nods, drawing another check mark in the air.
“Sweat trailing down your temple.” Another check mark.
“Grease covering your forearms, and the band of your briefs sticking out of the top of your jeans.” She licks her lips.
“Yeah, okay. I can definitely see it now.”
The temperature in this bar just rose twenty degrees—because while Scottie was describing her little fantasy right there, I was imagining spreading her out over the hood of my Nova and eating her pussy until she screamed.
Yeah, I can definitely see it too.
Clearing my throat, I swirl my glass in my hand. “I can’t believe you’re here, Scottie.” And then I ask the question that instantly pops into my mind. “Are you staying?”
She shakes her head twice. “Just here for the holidays.”
“When will you be back?”
She shrugs. “I have no idea. I don’t come home very often. In fact, it’s been years, but something told me it was time to face the past.”
Her words hit me square in the chest. The past—our past—is sitting like a ghost right between us, haunting me with everything I never said, everything I never did—and the girl I never chased because I was too busy chasing something else.
“It felt hard coming back home after everything…and Chase.” She swallows hard. “His life is down in Winterville.”
“Where is that?”
“It’s a suburb of Athens. I stayed close to UGA so I could finish school, and then I got hired at the elementary school down the street just after Chase turned four. It’s home now, and I…”
“Don’t leave tonight,” I interrupt, almost commanding her to stay.
She licks her lips, bites her bottom one, and then says in a sultry voice that travels straight to my dick, “I’m not going anywhere just yet.”
***
Scottie slaps the bar beside her. “God, that last game was a nail-biter!”
“You don’t have to tell me. I’ve never felt pressure like that in my entire life, but damn, what a rush.”