Chapter 38
The last place I should be is the stadium.
My shoulder throbs badly, and the muscle feels like tender meat ready to fall off the bone as I whip another ball at the wall. An exhale rips up my throat, making it burn as the taste of metal sticks to my tongue. I’ve been here for what feels like hours. I want to leave, but I continue to stay.
The first place I went when I left Blank Page was to drop Bodi off with my mom.
She took one look at me, and her eyes filled with questions she didn’t ask, knowing I wouldn’t answer them.
They’ll come later, I’m sure. Once I’ve let my guard down and I’m forced to tell her everything I’ve been bottling up inside.
Running out of the café like that was cowardly. I hate that term, but it’s true. I’m being a big fucking baby.
Reaching for another ball, I toss it up in the air a few times before launching it at the wall. It hits with a loud thunk before falling onto the growing pike on the turf. Silence makes the noise echo up the stands that threaten to swallow the bullpen.
This place usually feels like home to me. I’ve been in plenty of pens in my career, but none have ever been this . . . mine. Jesus, I’m out of it right now. I tip my head back and inhale, trying desperately to get my lungs to stop burning.
Without a catcher bracing ahead of me, I can unleash my arm.
If Roman caught me here, throwing this way after straining myself the other day, he’d have me strapped to a chair in his office while he scolded me badly enough that I’d walk out afterward with score marks on my skin.
It’s careless, especially when I’m already sore from yesterday.
Gritting my teeth, I whip another ball at the wall. The answering throb in my shoulder travels down my arm like an electric shock. I stretch my fingers and grunt.
If I called one of the guys, they’d come.
No questions asked. Jett especially, even if he had to bring his daughter with him.
Ever the father figure, he’d probably force me to sit and talk my feelings out before letting me escape.
Maybe that’s why I already decided he’d be the last person I’d tell I’m here.
If Asher were back, it would be him catching these balls and whipping them back just as hard.
His arm is nasty, which is what makes him such a double threat in the outfield.
Not only does he lead the team in home runs—a feat that riles Kellan from time to time—but he’s got the reputation that has every opposing team terrified to run when the ball’s in his hand.
He’d let me wallow in this piss-poor mood and maybe even offer a grunt of understanding.
We’re not as close as I am with the other guys, but I’ve never felt like that was for any reason other than him wanting to keep his distance from having friendships in general.
He likes us all in his own way, and we’ve grown to accept that there’s no pushing him to offer any more of himself than he already has.
Right now, that would come in handy.
I drop to a crouch beside my bucket of balls and trace the red seam of one. Every stitch is familiar to me. More recognizable than I find myself sometimes.
“Kellan said you’d be here.”
I pull my hand back from the ball, turning my head. A fist pushes between my ribs.
“How did you . . .?”
“Get in here?” Quinn blows out a breath and uses her thumb to point over her shoulder. “Brielle helped me break in.”
It’s a joke, but it misses its target.
“Right.”
She pauses, biting roughly on her bottom lip. My heart stutters at the thought of her hurting herself. Only the pain I see in her eyes doesn’t seem to be coming from her lip, and that’s way fucking worse.
“Did I upset you? Because if I did, I want to know. I don’t like being left in the dark to sit in my guilt and worry about what I said or if I behaved in a bad way.”
Ah, fuck. Rising from my crouch, I stifle a groan of pain when I pull my shoulders back. She watches me intently, tracking my every move. Her eyes latch onto my face when I hold my hips and wince at the tug of muscles.
“You didn’t do anything, Quinn,” I say, hoping to distract her.
She narrows her eyes. “Really? So this is just you needing to walk the dog? Who isn’t even here, mind you.”
“I did walk him.”
“Cut the shit, Beck. Tell me what I did so I can apologize, and we can go back to normal.”
“And what exactly is our normal?” I snap.
Her throat bulges with a thick swallow. “We’re having a good time together.”
“That’s it?”
The silence is deafening. I consider running again before she can answer and take the tiny tear in my chest and rip it all the way down the middle. Fear ripples beneath my skin like tiny venomous snakes.
She touches my chest with her palms, letting them rest there as I suck in breaths.
The muscles spasm beneath her warmth, and then I’m reaching for her.
I wait for her to tell me that I’m wrong and that we’re far more than that, but she doesn’t.
No words escape her. She runs her hands up to hold my shoulders, and her touch sears me, sucking the pain away as if it were never there to begin with.
I shut my eyes, unable to hold them open.
Every inch of me craves the clarity she could offer by finally letting me in, but I’m also too weak to walk away when she doesn’t.
I remind myself that she will. That it’s only been a couple of months since she started even giving me the time of day. What’s a few more minutes?
Before I can bend to kiss her, she’s pushing up on her toes and rubbing her nose up the edge of mine and doing it herself. My brain goes blank until only one thought remains.
Mine.
Quinn is mine, and I’m confident she always was.
We’re alone in a stadium fit for fifty thousand people, yet it wouldn’t matter if it were the ninth inning of a sold-out World Series game; I’d still feel the same. Still only see her.
Her lips move in sync with mine, and I know that if I lifted my fingers to feel her pulse, it would be moving in time with mine.
We’re not just having fun. I don’t think we ever were.
My intentions have always been to get to this point and keep her with me forever.
I’ve just been waiting for her to catch up.
She doesn’t allow our mouths to separate, even when I reach for her thighs and tug for her to jump.
Her small hop is more than enough, and I waste no time sweeping her off the turf.
Somehow, I maneuver us to a bench against the wall and sit on my ass.
Our hands are fast and wild as we work her jeans down to her ankles, and I lift my hips so she can free my cock from my shorts.
I bury my face in her throat and suck, my tongue gliding across her burning skin. She smells so good, like coffee and freshly baked croissants, yet somehow tastes even better. The soft ghost of a moan that falls from her knots my stomach, pleasure overfilling me.
“No one is going to find us like this?” she whispers, gripping my still-unshaven jaw and forcing my head back. I choke on a whimper when she takes her turn and mouths my throat.
“No. Gotta be fast, though.”
I feel her nod. “Fast.”
Her tiny hand wraps around my cock and gives it a few strokes.
I’m dripping down the shaft and into her grip.
She uses it all as lube before guiding me to her core.
Already so, so wet, her pussy welcomes me without even the hint of resistance.
I tighten my grip on her waist and help her sink another few inches.
“Oh, fuck,” she breathes, her back arching into me. Her heat envelops me, squeezing me deeper. “We don’t have a condom.”
I knuckle her hair away from her cheek before cupping it. She presses her forehead to mine, and our eyes meet, a silent agreement weaving between us to not look away. No matter what.
“Stop or keep going?” I rasp.
Her lips part against mine, sipping my breath. “Keep going.”
With a small press of my hips, I fill her completely.
She bites on my lip, tugging on it as our gazes hold and she seats herself on my lap.
My eyes threaten to cross at the inferno raging in my groin, but I focus on her.
The air is tight around us, making a bubble of privacy that I know doesn’t make sense.
We’re crossing a boundary here, and not only because we’re having sex in the bullpen or that, despite my vote of confidence, we could be found. It’s the lack of open communication that’s the most dangerous. There’s too much at stake here to be this risky. So why can neither of us pull away?
I let her see how fucking in love with her I am as I stroke her back and rock her forward.
Her breath skips, and she clings to me, pulling me closer instead of away.
There’s no space left between us. I ache to look inside her head and the thumping organ hidden deep in her chest. The boundaries make me hold her tighter, fear swelling in my throat.
“You’re mine,” I declare, voice weak, grated. “Say it.”
She trembles, eyelids falling to half-mast. I shake my head and curve my hand along the back of her head.
“Say it, Quinn.” I snap my hips up, and she cries out in bliss, her pussy quivering around my shaft. “You know it’s the truth. You can feel it as much as I can. Why are you holding back?”
Her nails prick my neck, then the sensitive skin beneath my shirt. “I—You don’t really want that.”
“Like fuck I don’t,” I growl. I’m no longer moving, my hips frozen. “Don’t lie to yourself.”
“You don’t even know me. Not enough to have made that decision.”
The mood sours. I press my head against the wall, needing to not be touching her face. “I know enough.”
“No, you don’t.”
When she pulls off and retreats, I don’t try to stop her. I force my numb limbs to cover myself up, not making any effort to stand. There’s a deep ache in my chest that’s growing by the second. Not even rubbing at it helps.
Her beautiful eyes are closed off, the opening I’d found gone as quickly as it had come. “If you knew half of the things I haven’t told you yet, you wouldn’t be here looking at me like that. You wouldn’t want me as badly. I’m not—I’m not like the other women you’ve been with. There’s too much—”
“I love you.”
She crumples. It’s the opposite of the reaction I’d been hoping for. Of what I’d dreamed of.
“Don’t say that right now.”
“Why? Because it scares you?”
“Of course it scares me. You scare me!”
“And all of this terrifies me. I’ve fallen in love with you, and you’re standing here telling me that it’s a mistake and looking like you want to throw up,” I croak, not bothering to hide the hurt shredding my insides.
“Is falling in love with me really that bad? Have I been this fucking blind believing that you’d give me a real chance? ”
She flinches. So do I.
My words don’t stop.
“I want this to be real. I need it to be. No more pretending for Ruthie or acting like we aren’t already dating despite not using the title.
You don’t do the things we do with someone you aren’t in a relationship with.
Love doesn’t feel like this when you’re just having fun.
It feels like I can’t exist without you, Quinn.
When I was gone, all I could think about was you.
I wondered if you were working too hard and if you’d gotten enough sleep the night before.
Baseball was the last of my concerns, and it’s been that way since the day I found Blank Page. ”
I need to get this out before I drown in everything I’ve kept inside.
“You captured my attention that day and haven’t given me one goddamn second of peace since.
I don’t know how to do anything but love you.
I’m a pathetic fool for you, but I’ve never been prouder.
I’d do the most embarrassing things for a sliver of your attention without thinking twice about what someone thinks of me.
The only opinion I’ve wanted about anything in months is yours.
And I’ve gotten this fucking close to winning your heart. ”
Holding my thumb and forefinger only a hair apart, I finally stand. Quinn stares at my feet, watching them move toward her.
“There isn’t anything you could say about your past that would change how much I love you. Why won’t you believe that?”
“You don’t understand,” she whispers, sounding like a ghost of herself.
My heart cracks right down the middle. “So help me. I can’t be half in with you anymore. It’s all or nothing because I have so much I want to give you, but I can’t do that if you’re going to continue holding me at arm’s length.”
“You’re as close as I’ve let anyone in a long time, Beck.”
“It’s not good enough!”
She chokes on a sob but refuses to let her tears fall. Turning away from me, she forces her chin up and keeps her eyes on the empty field.
“Why did you come here?” I push.
The lack of an answer hurts worse than hearing a rejection would. Her silence isn’t because she doesn’t have an answer. She does. I know that. It’s her refusal to tell me and open that last door for me to walk through that puts that final nail in the coffin I’ve barely been keeping open.
I’ve spent my entire life successfully avoiding heartbreak, only to get hit with twenty-nine years’ worth of it all at once.