Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
“My God, this is intense. Is it always this intense?”
If the game kept going like this, my fingernails would be whittled down to nothing by the last call.
The Hawks were playing well, but San Francisco had a killer batting line-up, and it was taking everything to keep the score about even.
With the teams shifting into the seventh inning, the scoreboard taunted them with each passing run, making it seem like they’d never catch up.
Jace rushed into the dugout from the outfield, sparing me one last look before he disappeared.
Sweat covered his brow, making his blond hair seem even darker than normal.
It worked for him, but then again, the anticipation of what would come later was driving me to the brink of insanity.
Every time he flexed those toned arms or stretched his thick thighs, I clenched my legs together, unable to shake the need coursing through me.
Hadley nodded at my side. “Always. Especially as they get further into the season. Sure, they have fun together, but they want to win. Want to up their standing. Everyone has high hopes of getting to the playoffs this year.”
I tried to follow along, but Jace stole all my focus, especially as he moved up the batting order.
It had been years since I’d been to a game, but I loved being in the stands.
We had to go to a home game. Anna might be too young to appreciate it right now, but when she got older, I wanted her to experience this, to see her dad out on the field, watching as he gave his all to his team.
Hadley reached over and took my hand. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you’re here? It’s been a while since I had anyone else cheering with me.”
“What about Brianna and Ollie?”
She shook her head. “It’s hard for Brianna to be here when Damien’s not on the field. But supposedly, he’ll be back soon. As for Ollie…” Her voice trailed off as she looked out onto the field, watching Parker Drobrek move out to home plate. “There’s something going on between her and Parker.”
Even though I’d been around the group for the past few weeks, I’d yet to see Ollie and Parker in the same room. When I’d first gone to Hadley’s, Ollie snuck out as soon as the guys came back to the house. And when everyone had gathered at my apartment, she was the only one who declined.
“Are they dating?”
“They should be,” Hadley mumbled. “But no. They used to be best friends, and now, I don’t know what’s going on. As much as I want to be there for her, if she’s not willing to talk about it, I won’t push her. They need to figure it out for themselves.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, watching as Parker swung his bat over his shoulder.
Even turned away from the crowd, he was laser-focused, his body tense as the pitcher and catcher communicated with hand signals.
The first ball flew, and Parker barely moved, knowing it was a bad pitch before the umpire called it.
My fingers twisted together as the pitcher tried again, but this time, the telltale crack of the bat against the surface of the ball made me smile.
It flew into the outfield, the other team scrambling for it as Parker booked it to first base.
His feet collided with the bag just as the left-fielder grabbed it, tossing it over to the pitcher with practiced ease.
Our section of the stadium erupted into loud cheers while the other fans hissed jeers and comments I tried to ignore.
As the celebrations died down, the scoreboard shifted, and Jace’s face appeared, his usual grin traded for a stern expression.
Focused. Heavy bass pounded the speakers as his walk-up song blared around us, and my breath caught in my throat as he jogged over to home plate.
He stretched, but he once again looked over his shoulder and pointed the tip of the bat in my direction.
My cheeks flushed as I cupped my hands to my mouth, screaming, “Give ‘em hell, hotshot.”
“Umm, Kinsley?” Hadley’s voice broke me out of my staring contest, nudging me toward the scoreboard.
Our section was up on the screen, focused on my face, broadcast for everyone to see in ultra-high definition.
Oh, shit. So much for keeping this between us.
I turned to face Jace, unsure what I’d find when he saw me up on the screen.
But he just smiled wider—like he was proud our moment had been caught for the world to see.
Hadley leaned her head on my shoulder. “Okay, that was one of the top ten most adorable things I’ve ever seen. That man is gone for you.”
I only swallowed, unable to summon any words. I want it all with you, Kins. Jace’s earlier confession played back at me, and, for the first time, the words didn’t scare me, didn’t make me want to run and hide.
The more time we spent together, the easier it became to squash those voices in my head, the ones questioning our future. Maybe we wouldn’t have forever, but I wanted more moments like this one, wanted to spend as much time as possible in his orbit.
As soon as Jace stepped up to the base, the playfulness from earlier now gone, traded for the focus that seemed to ripple through his body.
My hands clasped together as I jumped to my feet, needing to see his every move.
Please, please, let this go well for him.
Jace had been at the top of his game so far—striking out once but hitting a double as well.
He just needed to get on base; that was all.
He had this. My fingers twisted until my knuckles whitened, as tuned in to Jace as he was to the pitcher.
Each flex of his muscles, each twitch of his fingers—it was as if it were my own body prepping for the swing.
The ball flew out of the pitcher’s hand so fast, I barely had time to blink before it collided with Jace’s bat. The white ball sliced through the night, flying toward the outfield before I could even take a breath.
“Run, Jace!” Hadley screamed out from my side, snapping me into action. My own voice rang out, joining the other fans as we screamed out for him to keep going.
Jace’s feet pounded the dirt as he rushed past first, not bothering to look behind him as the outfield tried to rush for the ball.
It slowed as it passed over the inner diamond, flying high over their gloves to land at the back fence.
A player scooped it into his glove, and nausea filled my gut.
Jace wasn’t at second yet, but he could be.
A few more long, quick strides, and he’d be safe.
But then, the ball dropped. Not toward the bases, but out of the player’s glove. In his haste to stop the run, he’d made a fatal flaw, and Jace caught it from the corner of his eye. His legs moved faster than anyone else on the field as he rounded second. Ninety feet separated him from a triple.
The crowd erupted as Parker crossed home plate, scoring another run for the Hawks. But I paid him no mind, too busy counting the remaining feet between Jace and safety.
“Keep going, baby,” I whispered to myself, shifting my intertwined hands over my mouth.
Fifty feet.
Forty feet.
Thirty.
Activity in the outfield stole my attention, the ball flying too quickly toward third base.
I pressed my hands to my lips and squeezed my eyes closed, sending up a prayer to whoever was watching to let Jace make this play.
As I opened them, Jace dove for the base, sliding right into the bag as the ball hit the third baseman’s glove.
No. My heart sank as I glanced up at the scoreboard, waiting for the call.
But before it came, Hadley squeezed my arm, bouncing up and down on her feet. “He’s not on the bag, Kins. Jace made it!”
“What?”
Sure enough, when they replayed the catch, the third baseman had stepped away, just far enough for Jace to slide in without interference.
Safe. Just as my face broke out into a wide smile, Jace popped up, smirking as he wiped the dirt from his knees.
He once again stared up into our section, somehow finding me in the sea of people.
He pointed in my direction, not saying anything, but the message was clear.
That was for you.