The Hotshot (The Dugout #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Leighton

I tiptoe up the stairs, skipping the third from the bottom, craving distance from all the guests huddled in hushed conversations as they balance small plates of finger foods and repeat words like tragic and unfair.

Between Julianna’s incessant nitpicking about what needs to be done and the guests exchanging glances and whispers at me, I need some air. My hand tightens on the banister, pretending I don’t hear their judgmental comments.

“She’s the one.”

“Single.”

“Not even a boyfriend.”

“A labor and delivery nurse.”

“You know the hours they work.”

“How will she raise three kids with that schedule?”

I slip into the master bedroom and shut the door with the quietest of clicks. I should stay out of here—the doors to their room have been shut this past week as though it’s a Smithsonian exhibit—but I’m desperate to feel Skylar, with hopes she somehow guides me from the grave.

My back hits the door, and I close my eyes, finally releasing the unsteady breath I’ve been holding since I watched a set of double caskets lowered into the ground this afternoon.

But when I open my eyes, the nightmare remains, and the peace I was hoping to find isn’t here.

To an outside observer, there’s nothing terrifying about this scene.

The perfectly made bed. The picture frame of a happy couple on one nightstand, a stack of books on the other.

A half full laundry hamper with clothes waiting to be washed.

But the space is empty, somehow devoid of life.

And worse, the entire room smells like her.

Skylar’s perfume would cling to my clothes from her tight hugs, and I’d smell it my entire ride home.

I push off the door and walk over to the dresser.

Five smiling faces encased in picture frames grin up at me, posed for the professional photographer she’d book for every major holiday from Easter to Halloween to Christmas.

The only candid photo is the two of us from when we were younger—me missing my two front teeth, looking at her as if she was the coolest person to ever exist.

The framed photo of us trembles in my hand, and I run my finger over our faces, her laugh ringing like an echo in my head. This wasn’t our dream. Her dying at thirty-four, along with her husband, leaving behind three kids, wasn’t part of the fairytale.

A soft knock lands on the door, and before I can say come in, Callie sticks her head in the room. “Sorry, but your mom is on the hunt.”

I wave her in, and she shuts the door, flicking the lock. I put the picture down and blow out a breath, looking at my best friend.

“How am I supposed—” I ask for the millionth time between in my head and out loud to her.

“Have you eaten anything?” She doesn’t entertain my question since we both know there is no answer.

I shake my head and walk across the room to the stack of historical non-fiction books on the nightstand. A smile curves my lips, remembering Skylar taunting Patrick before their trip that he was wasting good packing space and should invest in an e-reader like hers.

“Come down and eat.”

“And listen to everyone question my ability to do this? No thanks.” I walk around the bed, peeking into the bathroom.

Skylar always meticulously organizes—organized—everything, each item having a designated spot. I don’t even put my clothes away from the laundry basket into the dresser. How am I supposed to replace her?

“They’re assholes.” I side-eye Callie, and she shrugs. “I’m not lying.”

She’s not. I lean my shoulder against the wall, and we stare at one another for what feels like an eternity. Everyone’s questions about how I’ll manage are unspoken between us. Her eyes are saying fuck them as mine say I can’t deny there’s truth there.

Her shoulders sink, and she steps closer.

“Listen, this is a lot. Like, holy shit, a pivotal moment, a fork in the road, nothing will ever be the same.” I quirk an eyebrow.

“So English wasn’t my best subject. What I’m trying to say is there are a lot of decisions to be made, but they’ll still be there tomorrow.

You need to allow yourself time to mourn them too. ”

“I think I’m still in shock.”

I not only have to grieve my cousin, who was practically a sister to me, and her husband, but my mind won’t stop replaying the lawyer’s words, “They want you to be the children’s guardian.”

What was Sky thinking?

“Who wouldn’t be? Which is why you have me. Come on.” She holds out her hand. “Let’s sneak into the kitchen and devour Sky’s candy drawer.”

Just another example of how opposite Skylar and I are. She’d never have a candy drawer.

“There’s no way she has one.”

“Everyone has one,” Callie insists, continuing to hold out her hand toward me. “Hers just might be extra hard to find, but lucky for you, I’m like a bloodhound.”

I accept her hand and take one more look around their space. It feels like a torture chamber. “You’re going to come up empty.”

She tucks my arm through hers and unlocks and opens the door. “I guess we’ll have to see. And don’t worry about everyone down there. The perfect distraction is on the way.”

“Callie, I don’t think a clown is appropriate for a day like today.”

She laughs as we step into the hallway, but it dies a quick death when we see Monroe standing outside of her bedroom with her doll clutched in her arms. How careless of us to try to find any kind of levity today when there are three confused children grieving their parents.

“Cookie is hungry,” she says.

I hold out my hand. “We’re headed to raid the kitchen. Want to join?”

Monroe walks to us, her small hand slipping into mine.

The three of us walk down the stairs, and right when we get to the fourth step from the bottom, Monroe jumps and lands on the third stair, spurring a loud creak. My stomach drops as all eyes in the vicinity turn toward us.

My mom rushes over. “Monroe, honey, we were looking for you.” She gives me a look—one that suggests I told you this is going to be harder than you think.

Nothing new about her underestimating me.

“Cookie is hungry.” Monroe buries herself into my side.

I place my hand on Monroe’s back. “I’ve got her.”

My mom sighs and purses her lips. I know she’s worried, and it’s in her nature to step in, take control. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. But I told myself I wouldn’t fret over all the logistics today. However, it’s easier said than done.

“We’re going in search of food,” Callie interjects—as she has many times between my mother and me—turning to walk toward the back of the house.

“There’s food right here.” My mom points toward the buffet table under the giant television anchored to the wall.

“Yeah, different food.” Callie places her hand on my mom’s arm. “We’ll be right back, Lil.”

My mom nods, and I feel her gaze on our backs.

As the three of us walk toward the kitchen, I give everyone polite smiles and nods to assure them that we’re all going to be okay, including the six-year-old clinging to me and her doll, even if I’m as doubtful as they are.

Freedom from the prying eyes is just steps away when the front door opens. Something has me turning to see who’s coming through the door. Light floods into what feels like darkness, even though the drapes are wide open, and a figure stands haloed by the glow outside.

“Finally! It only took him forever,” Callie grumbles.

My head snaps toward her. She didn’t. Even only being able to make out that it’s a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed in a suit, I know who it is.

“Hayes Carlisle?” Lincoln ditches the yo-yo that Patrick’s father brought him and bolts off the couch, running over to him.

My heart plummets to my stomach. “You called your brother?”

Conversations pause mid-sentence, all of the attention transferred to the Chicago Colts’ newest catcher.

Callie smiles and nods. “Like I said—a distraction.” She puts her arm around my shoulders, guiding me into the kitchen. She looks so proud of herself, but it’s only because she doesn’t know.

Suddenly, my mind isn’t wrapped up in the unexpected deaths. My pulse races for an entirely different reason—the one secret I’ve kept from her during our friendship. It was so long ago that half the time, I don’t even believe it happened myself.

I’m gonna need more than a candy drawer. I’m not sure a fully stocked vending machine would help me get through today.