19. Killian
KILLIAN
I’m not sure when it happened—when Isla Fallon became the axis my world spins around—but somehow everyone else seems to have noticed before me.
It starts with Harper Meers coming to town and cornering me after practice. She’s got that look, the one that says she’s about to deliver news I’m not sure I want to hear but should probably listen to anyway.
“You’re doing good work, Haynes,” she says, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. “Real good.”
I take a long sip of water, eyeing her over my bottle. “Thanks, I guess?”
She laughs, a sharp bark that echoes in the empty corridor. “Don’t play dumb with me. The girlfriend thing? It’s working. People are talking.”
“Talking about what?” I ask, though I already know.
“About how you’ve got a new spring in your step.
How you’re not obsessing over your pitches between innings as often as you were.
How you actually smile now. Like with a real smile, not that PR bullshit you usually flash for cameras.
” She pushes off the wall, standing to her full height.
“Whatever you two have going on, keep it up. The team’s responding to it. ”
My stomach tightens at her words. “Right. Sure. Okay.”
“Why don’t you look thrilled?” she asks me, a skeptical expression on her face. “Is there something going on I should know about?”
I take another gulp from my water bottle. “Nope.”
She studies me for a moment; her head tilted to the side and her eyes narrowed. “It’s all fake, isn’t it?”
My head snaps to hers. “What?”
“Chill out. I’m not going to say anything.” Harper shrugs. “I had a feeling.”
“But how did you—”
“It was awfully convenient that soon after I told you your place in Portland was in jeopardy, you found a woman to spend time with.” She nods slowly. “Nice play. But I hope you’ve thought about what happens when whatever you’ve cooked up ends.”
“If it ends, it ends.”
God, just saying those words has me sick to my stomach because that’s the last thing I want.
She just looks at me.
“What?”
“You just said ‘if.’”
I open my mouth then close it because I don’t know what I should say here. It’s bad enough Harper figured out so quickly that Isla and I have an arrangement, but in the past several weeks with Isla I really have changed.
I feel calmer, more relaxed.
I’ve enjoyed myself more around my teammates.
And she’s right…I’ve smiled more. I’m happy and I know it’s because of Isla.
I like her.
I really fucking like her.
I like having her in my bed at night. And not just for the incredible sex.
Having her in my life really has changed me in ways I never expected.
Holding her at night helps me sleep. She makes me laugh when we’re together.
She doesn’t judge me for my anxiety. Instead, she holds my hand and helps me through it.
The security and comfort Isla has brought to my life since I met her isn’t something I would ever find in a one-night stand.
“You like her,” Harper says.
I look down at the water bottle in my hands.
The thing is, I know exactly what Harper’s getting at, and I know she’s not wrong.
This whole ordeal may have started out as an arrangement.
A fake relationship of sorts. But now I’m not totally sure I can still call it fake anymore, and I don’t know what to do with that.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I say, rolling the water bottle between my palms. “It’s complicated.”
Any relationship we could possibly have after the season would be long-distance and what’s the point in that? She’ll take another flight assignment and I’ll see her…what? Once a week if I’m lucky? She’d fly home for a quick fuck only to be back in the air the next day?
Nah.
That’s not for me.
I mean, I guess it would’ve been for the old me, but now…where Isla is concerned, I want more than that.
I want more of her.
More of us.
Harper nods slowly, a knowing look on her face. “It always is when real feelings get involved. Just be careful, Haynes. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
She leaves me standing there, her words hanging in the air like a warning I can’t ignore. I crush the water bottle in my hand and toss it into the recycling bin with more force than necessary.
Sunday dinner at Shepherd’s place has become a little bit of a tradition, especially since Sutton has become a part of our family.
Every week, my brothers and I gather with the Adams siblings for food, drinks, and the kind of easy camaraderie that comes from growing up together.
We created some pretty tight bonds in college with Brock and Kyler and it’s nice to still have that solid friendship after all these years.
Tonight, Sutton’s here too, moving around Shepherd’s kitchen like she’s been doing it forever.
Isla sits at the kitchen island, chatting animatedly with Mackenzie and Sutton about something I can’t quite hear from the corner of the living room.
Sutton having grown closer to Mack as well over the last several months, it’s nice to see them all getting along so easily.
Isla’s laugh carries across the room, bright and genuine, and I feel that familiar tug in my chest, the one that’s been getting stronger every day.
Conversation flows around me, but I find myself withdrawing, lost in my own thoughts. Harper’s words keep echoing in my head.
“You just said ‘if’.”
If.
Such a small word, but it’s been haunting me all week.
If this ends.
If she leaves me.
If I’m not enough for her.
I watch Isla across the room. God, she’s so fucking pretty.
She’s wearing one of my old team shirts, the one with the faded logo that she “borrowed” and never returned, not that I care one bit.
I love seeing her in my clothes. It’s fucking hot.
The shirt’s too big on her, hanging off one shoulder, revealing a constellation of freckles I’ve mapped with my lips more times than I can count.
And all I want to do is walk over there and map them out all over again—one freckle at a time for as long as it takes.
“Earth to Killian.” Sutton slides onto the couch beside me, her voice low enough that only I can hear. “You’ve been staring at us in the kitchen for about ten minutes. It’s borderline creepy.”
“Just thinking,” I mutter, taking a swig of my beer.
“About Isla I presume?”
My head snaps toward her. “What?”
Sutton smiles, the kind that says she knows something I don’t. “Don’t look so surprised. You’ve been watching her all night like you’re afraid she might disappear.”
I shrug, trying to play it cool even though my pulse has picked up. “Just making sure she’s having a good time.”
“Right.” She chuckles, stretching her legs out and crossing them at the ankles. “You’re so in love with her.”
I almost choke on my beer. “What? No, I’m not.”
She doesn’t say anything, just gives me that look. The one that says she sees right through my bullshit.
Fuck, I hate that look.
“It’s not like that,” I insist, keeping my voice low.
She laughs now. “Oh, okay, so you’re just going to tell me that whatever the hell is going on between you two is all fake?” She rolls her eyes but when I don’t say anything, her smile falls, and her expression changes. “Oh, my God, Kill. It’s all fake?”
The look on Sutton’s face is like a dagger to the chest.
I glance over at Isla again, who’s now demonstrating something with her hands, making Mackenzie laugh so hard she’s wiping tears away. The sound hits me deep in my soul.
“Look,” I say, turning back to Sutton. “I’m going to tell you something but only because you and I have been close ever since you met Shep and I trust you. But I haven’t even told my brothers yet.”
Her brows furrow. “Oookay…”
I take a deep breath and release it as a heavy sigh. “It started out as a favor. Harper told me I needed to clean up my image and calm myself down on the mound or there was a high possibility I would be traded.”
“What the fuck?”
“Yeah. I know. And I couldn’t let that happen. So, Isla’s been…helping me out.”
“Wait…” she cocks her head. “You’re seriously telling me none of this was…it’s not real? Any of it?”
I shake my head. “That’s not what I’m…I mean…it wasn’t supposed to be…” I rub my hand across the back of my neck. “Fuck, I don’t even know anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means none of it was supposed to be real but I think I fucking suck at faking anything, and now I fucking like her and I have no idea if she feels the same way but I think she does, but I also know she doesn’t plan on sticking around at the end of the season.
” I take a deep breath after vomiting all those words at once.
“She’s going to leave and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it. ”
Sutton watches me for a few quiet seconds as she puts the pieces together. “You don’t just like her, Kill. You’re in love with her.”
I scoff. “I don’t know if I would go that far.”
“The whiffle ball game…” she starts. “You practically carried her off the field after she got hit.”
“That was different,” I mutter. “I’m the one that hit her. I hurt her.”
“Uh huh.” Sutton takes a sip of her wine, watching me as she does so. “And that’s the only reason you were so protective?”
I set my beer down on the coffee table, running a hand through my hair. “What are you getting at, Sutton?”
She leans closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m getting at the fact that you’re in love with her and you should at least admit it to yourself.”
The words hit me like a fastball to the chest. I open my mouth to deny it, but nothing comes out. Because she’s right. She’s so fucking right it hurts.
“I saw it the night you brought her here,” Sutton continues, her voice gentle but firm.
“The way you look at her...that’s not how you look at someone who’s just a friend or a fake girlfriend.
The way you look at her…it’s the same way Shep looks at me and the same way Hop looks at Mack but thinks no one notices. ”
A soft chuckle works its way out of me. “You see it too, huh?”