Chapter 27
She didn’t let me stay, and I wasn’t expecting her to.
The moment we recovered from the most exquisite sexual experience of my entire life—yes, exquisite, which isn’t a word usually in my vocabulary—I was ushered out the door. It’s been an entire day, and I still haven’t stopped replaying it in my mind.
Not when she hid away in the spare room while I microwaved one of the premade meals the team’s new nutritionists set up for us, or when I hung out on the deck to watch the sunset and heard her bedroom door creak open and her soft footsteps leading to the pantry.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it even when I forced myself to head to my own room well past when I should have, only after finding her mug in the sink and the jar of organic honey shifted on the shelf from where she put it earlier in the day.
I’m not a virgin in the slightest sense.
Hiding my sex life wasn’t anything I considered doing up until a few months ago, when the articles about it started popping up everywhere I looked.
I shouldn’t feel so goddamn mind-blown about what we did together.
Going down on a woman isn’t a new experience for me, and fuck—I’ve been kissing since I was thirteen years old.
But until yesterday, I hadn’t kissed a woman like Quinn, and I couldn’t have even so much as fathomed going down on one, either.
Kissing her was euphoric. It tweaked something in my soul and slotted a bunch of jostled pieces into place. Smoothed out a few chips that I hadn’t noticed were ever there in the first place. I feel more like myself now than I ever have.
I’ve never believed in fate, nor have I wanted to. But how the hell can I have experienced what I did yesterday without believing in something? It’s like there was a Beck before Quinn, and a Beck after Quinn, only the after version can’t remember what the before looked or felt or sounded like.
Honest to God, I thought she was going to block my number when I texted her from the stadium and told her about the game tonight and the ticket I got her.
It was a risk asking her to come at all, even if what happened yesterday hadn’t.
And it was an even bigger risk telling her that if she said yes, she’d be joining a bunch of women she hardly knows.
I wouldn’t have blamed her if she turned me down. Only she didn’t. Her response was actually witty.
Only if nobody teases me for my lack of baseball knowledge.
Nobody would have, even if I hadn’t sent the group message that I did to Aubrey, Brielle, and Roman’s niece, Evie.
RED ALERT!!!!
Ellie
Did your ego finally explode?
Bree
If so, is there a video?
Okay, rude. And no. I need you to be super welcoming, super sweet, and super not as loud as usual tonight.
Evie
Do you have a girlfriend?
Ellie
EVIE! Don’t jinx it.
Evie
Soooorry! I just got excited. I accidentally ordered ten extra Wine and Unwind wine glasses and Uncle dropped one on the floor this morning so . . . It would be nice to give one to another member of the group before he ended up destroying them all.
Bree
Woah. Slow down. How do we know we want her to be in our group?
Ellie
It’s Quinn. We like her.
Evie
From the coffee shop? I <3 her and the degradable cups she uses. I know they’re not the most cost efficient option, but who cares when it comes to saving the ocean.
HELLO?? I texted for a reason.
Ellie changed the group name to Operation Good Girls.
Ellie
Say pretty please, Becky.
Bree
Yeah, say pretty please.
PRETTY FUCKING PLEASE!
Bree
Sheesh. Where’s your decorum? There’s a child amongst us.
Evie
I’m twenty-one.
Ellie
A wee baby *baby emoji*
So we’re decided then? You’ll be nice to her?
Evie
We’ve got her. Just try not to embarrass yourself on the mound tonight. That would be awkward.
Quinn’s never been to a baseball game before. She doesn’t know her way around the stadium or where to go if she wants something to eat or drink or go to the washroom. The girls do, but crap—what if she doesn’t like them?
She knows Brielle because Wes’ sister is a creep who will sit at the same table in Blank Page every day and people-watch like she gets paid for every person she gawks at.
But Aubrey can be hard to read at first. She’s a family lawyer and, other than Quinn, is the hardest-working person I’ve ever met.
Every player on the Havoc and I fear her.
Even Finn does, despite being head over heels in love with her.
Evie’s just a sweetheart. Roman keeps her locked away from the guys as often as he can, not that I blame him.
She’s got pale skin, curves for days, and these dark brown eyes that can strike you down at the knees if you look too long, which is something I’ve only done once.
Roman smacked me upside the head so hard my eyes rattled in my skull, despite having looked in a very innocent way.
She’s a part of our found family and nothing more. Now, whether Roman’s grown to accept that or not, that’s on him. There’s no arguing fact.
I’d like to believe that he’s made some progress since falling for Brielle. For the first time in the five years since he started coaching here, he’s let us see that there’s more to him than meets the eye. I’m a big fan of the change.
“You look like you’re trying to wear a hole in the floor,” Kellan smarts from his chair.
I flop down into mine and fold my hands behind my head. “How long do the lines for the bathrooms get during a game?”
“There’s never a line when I go during a concert.” Finn slips his sunglasses onto the brim of his cap.
“This isn’t a concert. And I don’t mean the men’s room.”
Kellan finishes typing a message on his phone and then drops it onto his lap. “Are you that down bad that you need to go prowling for women in the bathroom?”
Jett chuckles from the opposite side of the clubhouse, eavesdropping like always. He’s on the phone with his daughter the way he always is before a game, but his eyes are on us. I ignore him and focus on the guys closest to me.
“This is about the girls coming to the game, right?” Finn asks.
I point at him. “You’re officially the smartest guy here. Congrats, big dog.”
He grabs his glove and gives it a squeeze. “They’re going to be fine. I doubt they’ll let Quinn go anywhere on her own. They all take Girl Code very seriously.”
“Did you blackmail the poor girl into coming?” Rhys Casey asks, drawing a few laughs from around him.
I keep focused on Finn while flipping Rhys off, already going over the quickest ways to make him pay for that comment after the game.
He’s one of our five starting pitchers, and while he isn’t as good as Finn, he’s still pretty impressive to watch.
Too bad his skill isn’t enough to save him from retribution.
“How is it that everyone knows about Quinn in the first place?”
Kellan laughs at my question, his eyebrows in his hairline. “Are you being for real?”
“Is there anyone who doesn’t know?” Finn adds.
“Alright, so I’ve been a bit obvious. Sue me,” I grunt, fiddling with the brim of my hat. “It’s not like Finn was discreet with Aubrey.”
Finn doesn’t bother arguing. “Fair enough.”
“The only one who actually did a good job of hiding shit was Rome, and that was only because he was scared Wes would beat his ass,” Kellan says.
I click my tongue. “Actually, I knew pretty quick.”
Jett wanders over to us, his phone gone. He takes a seat in the chair beside Kellan and nods. “I did, too. Anyone with eyes could tell.”
“Now you’re just trying to steal my thunder,” I grumble.
Finn leans against the wall, damn near massaging his glove now. “Yeah, I’m not buying it.”
“Where’s Wes, anyway?” Jett asks, not doing shit all to defend his claim.
I smirk. “Maybe he’s doing some bonding with his soon-to-be brother-in-law.”
“Jesus. I still can’t get over that. Rome’s marrying Brielle? Wes’ little sister, Brielle? Don’t get me wrong, I can see it and understand, but I didn’t see that shit coming at all. I keep waiting for a big brawl out on the field,” Rhys says.
Finn tips his chin in a nod of understanding but explains. “They’re actually cool. Roman treats her like a princess, so Wes has no reason to pick a fight with him.”
“Speaking of fights—anyone know when Asher’s coming back?” Kellan asks.
The lighthearted mood in the busy clubhouse dips a bit at the question.
It’s a reminder that we’ve been missing our star centre fielder for the last couple of weeks and struggling because of it.
He’s a part of the group, and knowing that he’s been gone because of a family illness has been hard to ignore.
While neither he nor Roman has shared what exactly is going on, Finn did give us a few brief details of what he knows from Aubrey.
Asher’s mom has been sick with cancer for a while now, and it’s gotten worse as of late.
Apparently, Aubrey ran into Asher when her grandma was going through chemo, and they bonded a bit because of it.
“No. I’ve tried calling, but he never answers. He texts back every few days, though. It doesn’t sound good,” Jett says.
I blow out a breath. “He’ll be okay. If anyone’s strong enough to carry this, it’s him.”
“Just keep reaching out to him. He needs to know he has our support right now, even if he doesn’t want to admit that he needs it.” Jett frowns, his shoulders slouching.
We always joke that Jett is the team dad, but there isn’t anyone more deserving of that title.
He’s a bit more reclusive than Kellan or me, for example, and I know that has to do with how much time he spends with his daughter.
Nobody blames him for that, especially when he still manages to be such a steady pillar in the clubhouse.
Knowing that Asher is struggling and that he can’t fly out to help him has got to be weighing heavier on him than the rest of us.
“We will,” I declare.
Finn pushes off the wall. “Aubrey sent him a care package last week. If she does another one, let me know if you want to put anything in it.”
The group of us lets him know that we’re in before Roman steps into the clubhouse with Wes at his side.
I blink twice, making sure I’m seeing things right when our catcher slaps Roman’s back and then wanders over to his cubby like this is just .
. . normal. Kellan eyes me curiously, seeming to catch my train of thought.
I shrug a shoulder and turn to our manager when he clears his throat to grab our attention. Everyone in the clubhouse faces him now, waiting.
Roman Shore is a total beast of a guy. He’s not as tall or built as me, but he’s got a scowl that could make the bravest soul piss himself before he’s realized what’s happened.
At forty years old, he’s an expert at commanding a room of adrenaline-flooded, confident athletes with little more than a few words and a sharp look.
It’s really no surprise that Brielle fell for him.
“Jett, I need to talk to you in my office.”
I fight back the urge to make a dramatic oohing noise and keep my mouth shut. The moment Roman’s eyes flick to me, I’m grateful I didn’t act like an ass.
“Kordell will be here in a few minutes to speak with you as well, Beck. Stay close.”
I immediately think back to whether I did anything recently that would have pissed off my pitching coach. My mind comes up blank, so I relax.
“You got it, Coach.” I salute.
He stares at me for a beat longer before turning away and leading Jett into his office. Finn is the one who slaps my ass and takes a seat.
“What did you do now?”
“Nothing. I’ve been a good boy.”
Wes snorts. “Right.”
I whirl around and smirk. “Teacher’s pet.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?” he boasts.
Kellan stands and stretches his arms above his head. “You’re going to get a ball to the cock later if you’re not careful.”
“It’s cute you think Beck’s aim is that good. He’s just lucky I’m such a good framer,” Wes drawls.
I ignore the urge to whip him upside the head and turn to my cubby instead. Just one more look at my phone is all I need. I’ll send Quinn one more message, and then I’ll be able to focus.
Her last text was short yet still brought a shit-eating grin to my face when I read it the first time. It has the same effect now.
Quinny
No wonder you think you’re so great. I’ve counted thirty-seven Rourke jerseys already and I’m still in the security line.
The fact that she bothered counting, let alone felt the need to text and tell me how many there were, stroked my ego. If it weren’t obvious from last night that things were changing between us, the fact that she’s even here at the stadium today would have changed that.
Slowly but surely, she’s warming up to me.
Keep a tally for me, baby. I want to hear the final number later when I’ve got your legs over my shoulders.