Chapter 27
Tessa
"Tess, did you hear me?"
My gaze gets caught on the way Liam's bicep bulges with his glove wedged beneath it. "Hmm?" I answer as he lifts his hat and runs his hand through his hair.
"I said, I'm gonna take the kids to the bathroom before the game starts. Do you want to come?" Alex asks.
Liam chuckles at something Jace Holloway says, and I follow the curve of his smile. "Oh, I'm good, thanks. I'm not really hungry."
She laughs then responds under her breath. "Not for food apparently."
It takes me a minute to realize what she's saying before I snap to attention.
"Wait… what?" I ask, shaking all previous thoughts of how Liam's voice sounds when he's all worked up.
"You've been all spacey since we sat down. Who are you staring at?"
My eyes snap back to Liam like I've been caught—because I have been.
Alex follows my gaze to the field, pausing when it lands on her brother-in-law. "Oh?" she says curiously. I watch as she connects the dots. Her eyes grow wide. "Ohh…"
I stare at the sleeve of my new flannel as if I'm still astounded that the checkers are the perfect Gators green and the stripes the perfect yellow.
"Okay, hold on." Alex holds her hands out in front of her as she scoots toward the edge of the seat next to me. Suddenly her idea to swap with Ruthie so that the kids could hang out and we could catch up sounds less genius than it did before.
She tilts her chin down and peers up at me. "Did you and Liam—"
"Shh," I say, leaning in close. I glance behind her to find Ruthie completely engrossed in the bar down goal Cooper keeps replaying on his phone. Thank God.
"No, we didn't," I finish.
Alex scoffs teasingly. "You don't even know what I was going to say."
My cheeks turn pink, but unless she was going to ask if we got off to each other on opposite sides of a bedroom wall last night, the answer is still probably the same.
Or kissed—she might ask that. Then, that would also be true. But anything else is a definite no.
"We did not sleep together," I whisper before she can guess—just to be safe.
She nods slowly and grins, a twinkle of mischief in her eye. "But you kissed."
Shit.
My lips are already parted to lie when I realize it wasn't a question.
I exhale heavily, rolling my eyes back to the guy—my boss—that I can't stop thinking about.
"What are you doing, Tessa?"
"Lock your door."
"Were you thinking of me?"
Damn, I knew Liam was sexy—he's good looking and successful, and he has a heart of freaking gold. But for whatever reason, I didn't know he was capable of that.
To say I was surprised to see his number pop up on my phone in the middle of…
well—in the middle of what I was doing, is an understatement.
I probably shouldn't have been so reckless, but I was home alone.
And it had been too long since I was by myself long enough to scratch an itch Trevor could never reach.
The last thing I expected, though, was for Liam to catch me in the act. And more than that—for me to reward him for it.
"Okay, fine," I admit, my voice hushed.
Alex smothers a squeal. "Ah, I knew it! So, I guess you're over the break-up already?"
"Oh, God, yeah. But that doesn't mean—"
"Ooh, what does this mean? Are you guys like a thing? Do you want to be? Does Ruthie know?"
I shush her again, nudging her in the shoulder admittedly harder than necessary. "No, of course she doesn't know. And it's going absolutely nowhere. He's my boss, remember?"
As if he heard me, Liam lobs a ball to the pitcher then locks eyes with me. My skin instantly buzzes, my face doing its best to maintain composure. I offer a smile. He sends one back, but only after his tongue finds his cheek, and he inhales so deeply I watch his chest move.
"Just your boss?"
I turn to see her sucking her teeth, making no attempt to hide the grin growing on her face.
I look again at Liam, whose eyes are still locked on me, then back at Alex.
Had she asked me that question after just our kiss, I would have been quick to answer.
But did what happened on either side of the wall change anything?
Liam made it clear—he thought we shouldn't have crossed any lines in the first place, and I agreed.
So… why did he pick up the phone last night?
And why did I answer?
"I have no idea what's happening," I admit quickly.
Alex shakes her head, laughing, but I don't find it very funny.
Instead, I start sweating, my new flannel suddenly more like a parka.
I slide it off, letting the sleeves fall past my wrists, and giving myself a much-needed cool down.
My Gators shirt is left exposed—the only other one I own besides the one I wore yesterday—as I turn around to drape the button-up over the back of my seat.
A baby behind us smiles at me, bouncing on his mother's lap. There's drool leaking from the corner of his lips as I wave at him, and it makes me wonder if that's how I just looked to Alex while watching Liam.
With that in mind, I twist back around to find Alex still smiling to herself. "What now?" I whine.
"Oh, nothing," Alex says coyly. "But I think I'll make that bathroom trip now." She taps Cooper on the shoulder, and the two of them and Ruthie rise from their seats. "We'll be back," she sings, exiting the row.
I watch them leave, confusion etched on my brow as they head toward the concourse.
What the hell was that?
The stadium music fades as the players jog off the field. The announcer runs through the Bobcats' lineup, and I spot Liam in the middle of the pack. His jaw's set, his eyes locked on the dugout straight ahead as he clenches his fists tightly at his sides.
Someone's in the zone.
When the last Bobcat is called, our lineup video flashes onto the Jumbotron. I keep my eyes glued to the screen, replaying the end of mine and Alex's conversation while simultaneously waiting for Liam to pop up larger than life.
I stare at the screen, my heart rate kicking up as Jace Holloway's name rings out around me. He holds his hands out toward the camera, his blue sleeves covering his arms. He opens and closes them like an actual gator, winking at the spectators undoubtedly drawn to him.
Jace is hot right now—in the baseball sense. But… he's definitely not bad looking either. He's young and talented, and his name is written across half of the backs in this stadium—including mine. He's just not the guy I'm excited to see again.
As I wait impatiently for another excuse to stare at my boss, who I've only recently heard turned on, a wad of heavy cotton seems to fall from the sky and rips my attention away from the lineup video.
I glance around to find the source of the balled-up sweatshirt now in my lap, but everyone around me seems just as clueless as I am.
I spin behind me to find the only one looking at me is the same baby from before.
Twisting back, I lean over the rail in front of me to check the last place I haven't looked—the field.
And to my surprise, just as the next snippet of the lineup is about to show on the Jumbotron, the video clip of Liam that I know is coming is replaced with the stone-cold face of the real one—locked on me.
"Put the sweatshirt on, Tessa," Liam calls up to the stands, his low voice hitting me in the chest even over the buzz of the stadium.
I whip my head side-to-side, then peer down at the sweatshirt in my hands. "Wha—uh…"
He arches a brow, nodding toward the hoodie.
I lift it, the smell of him hitting me like an almost pleasant slap in the face. Unfortunately, the scent only adds to my confusion. "No, I'm—I'm fine. I'm not—it isn't cold."
Liam adjusts his stance impatiently, dropping his hands onto his hips. "I didn't ask."
The stern, rough edge of those three words draws the attention of a few people around me. I flash them a weak grin, freeing one hand to wave at an older woman craning her neck to see what number twenty-three is doing.
The lineup video fades out, and the Gators jog from the dugout toward the third baseline for the anthem, but Liam doesn't budge. He stands there frozen, ignoring the catcher who taps him on the shoulder.
"What are you doing?" I grind out, too quiet for him to actually hear.
The fans rise for the anthem, and I do too, the hoodie still draped over my arm. Liam points at it, his eyes narrowed, as two other players try—and fail—to grab his attention from the baseline.
It's clear he's not moving until I cooperate, and spectators around me start whispering about the shortstop facing the wrong direction. I hold out my hands, questioning him once more, but his only response is crossing his arms across his chest.
Is he challenging me?
With a huff, I flip the sweatshirt, slide my arms into the sleeves and tug it over my head.
I'm swallowed instantly by warmth—his warmth—and try to ignore the fact that I feel unnecessarily safe drowning in his clothes.
I pull my braid out from under the collar, attempting to not look as confused as I am to those around me.
But I am—confused.
Liam says put on the sweatshirt, and on it goes. But why?
Why does he want this? Why am I listening?
And why do I still have no idea what's happening?
"Maybe he didn't like the flannel," Alex whispers as we stand to leave.
I dodged her smirks and subtle head shakes for nine innings, but she never outright asked about the hoodie. I definitely didn't offer any information considering I don't actually have any. Instead, I prayed that at least Ruthie wouldn't notice.
"It's a great flannel," I argue, my lips tight.
"Mhmm… and the sweatshirt?"
I glance down at the gator staring back, mouth opened like it's mocking me. "It's fine," I shrug.
She smothers a laugh as we finally step into the aisle. I glance back at Ruthie, who is still laughing with Cooper, while I let the woman with the now-sleeping baby out first.
"So is its owner," Alex says in my ear from behind me
The lady smiles at me, and I force myself to grin back before twisting my head over my shoulder. "I'm ignoring you," I sing back.
I walk the length of the aisle, waving at the usher as I push through the crowd of people lingering in the tunnel. When we make it into the concourse, I turn around, waiting for Ruthie and Coop to catch up to us. "You hush," I demand, wagging my finger in Alex's direction.
She drags her thumb and forefinger across her lips, her eyes glued to my hand still up by her face. "Oh, my lips are sealed, but I don't think that's gonna help with—"
"Is that Dad's sweatshirt?" Ruthie asks the second she steps up to us.
My cheeks definitely answer for me, but being that she's only twelve, I hope she doesn't notice. I move to answer, but no words come out as I argue with myself about whether lying would be considered harmful in this case.
"Yeah, it is," she says, grabbing my wrist. Only now do I realize my finger's still frozen in the air. "Only the players' clubhouse hoodies have their numbers sewn onto the sleeve."
My eyes slowly drop to the number twenty-three embroidered onto the thick cotton in a bright dark yellow that clearly went unnoticed. By me.
"Oh," I answer with the huff of a laugh. "Yeah, I—"
"He left it at our house the other day," Alex cuts in casually. "I gave it to Tess to give back to your dad since we're headed right to the rink."
"So, why is she wearing it?" Cooper asks. His voice isn't accusatory, but I still want to throw myself into the vat of nacho cheese bubbling at the concession stand beside us.
"I got cold," I say quickly.
Three sets of eyes dart to the flannel now wrapped around my waist.
"I told her it didn't work," Alex says with a playful eye roll.
The tweens' faces drop with a relief I'm slightly offended by.
"It was the right idea," Ruthie blurts. "For any other day. Just not like at an actual game, ya know?"
I smile at Ruthie as my eyes slide to Cooper, who shrugs, mostly uninterested.
I continue the passing glance to Alex, who I tell with just one look that she's lucky she saved me before making that comment.
This flannel is great, and if I were to reconsider some of my most recent decisions, this purchase would definitely not be at the top of the list.
Looking back at the stitched numbers that do hint at one of my more questionable choices, I pray for anything to happen besides this moment continuing.
"Can we still get snow cones tonight?" Ruthie asks Alex. I thank God for the question—and for Ruthie's short attention span—and my chest finally deflates.
"Duh," she says, nudging her shoulder.
Ruthie grins. "You sure you don't want to come, Tess?"
I smile at the offer—the idea that she's now asked three times warming me more than this oversized sweatshirt. "No, that's okay. I have to move some more of my stuff into your house, actually. But thank you for asking."
She brings her shoulders to her ears, her eyes bright. "Okay."
We all start making our way toward the back exit where we parked, Ruthie and Cooper already discussing what color ice they're getting at the arena.
"You gonna have any help with those big, heavy boxes?" Alex asks as the two of us naturally fall a few steps back from the kids.
I sigh heavily, which tells her all she needs to know.
"I love this," she mutters under her breath.
"He's just helping me move."
"Yeah, into his house."
I roll my eyes. "Because I work there."
"Uh huh," she says sarcastically.
"Al…" I pause briefly, just long enough to get her attention. "Nothing's gonna happen."
Nothing can happen.
Not again, at least.
Alex inhales deeply. "Yeah…" she says as we fall back into step. "That's exactly what I said."