Epilogue
“Run! Blow it!” I shout down at Kellan.
Our third-base coach has his hands up in front of him, gesturing for Kellan to stop on third instead of running home. He’ll make it if he speeds up. I know he will.
The ball Jett hit slid right past the opposing team’s shortstop and hit the back wall. Their centre fielder bobbled it a beat after his glove made contact, creating the opening that I’m demanding Kellan take. From up in the stands, I try to project my voice as loud as possible.
He can’t hear me, but I try anyway.
“Don’t stop, asshole!”
Whether from some weird best friend mind connection between us or his own instincts, he passes the coach without a second look and tears up the dirt in the catcher’s direction.
I’m standing, watching anxiously as the third baseman jumps to make the catch from his outfielder, and my toes dig into my shoes.
The fingers threaded through mine remain there, grounding me as I lean as far forward as I can and grin like a fucking fool when Kellan drops to the dirt and slides to home plate.
His legs spread out wide, and the tip of his cleat collides with the bag a millisecond before the ball is in their catcher’s glove.
He drops to tag him on the back, but it’s too late.
The home crowd screams as the run gets added to the tally, and the Havoc take the lead for the first time tonight. Only once he’s got the ridiculous storm-cloud hat placed on his head and a slap on the ass from a recently returned Asher do I sit again.
“He’s really good,” Quinn notes.
I drop into my seat and bring the back of her hand to my lips, rubbing them across it. “Don’t tell him that. He’ll implode with arrogance.”
“Do you know how to bat?”
Aubrey’s choked cough reaches me from three seats over, and I lean past Quinn to glare at her. She’s not looking at me on purpose. Wuss.
“I do,” I state, resting our hands on my thigh. “I’m not great, but I’m still better than Finn.”
It’s Brielle who answers. “Doubtful. I remember the game we all played a couple of years back. You struck out six times in a row.”
“You play games together?” Quinn asks.
Aubrey looks her way. “We haven’t in a long time, actually. Maybe we should set something up.”
Quinn nods in agreement and reaches for the specialty drink in her cup holder.
It’s the first night the black cherry slush, Beck’s Blank Page, is available.
Unlike Kellan’s Crush, you can only get one of mine after the seventh inning.
The marketing team had a bit too much fun planning this.
Once I gave them the name and flavour, they exploded with different ideas.
The straw fits between her lips as she sips, and I can’t take my eyes away.
Her mouth is stained a deep red when she sets the cup back down and licks her lips.
I’m quick to pull her in for a kiss before she can get all the slush.
Sweetness bursts on my tongue, turning me inside out.
If we were alone, she’d have already been in my lap.
“You’re supposed to be hiding behind your disguise tonight, not drawing attention,” Brielle warns, her amusement obvious.
The reminder pulls Quinn from me before I was finished kissing her. She rolls her eyes at my deep frown.
“You can kiss me plenty once the game is over. It’s a surprise you’ve gone this long without someone hopping over the seats for an autograph. Don’t push your luck”
“I still think you should have used the stick-on mustache,” Aubrey adds.
Brielle jabs her fork into the poutine the three of them have been sharing this inning. “Or just not shaved your face. I was getting used to the whole woolly mammoth look.”
“It was starting to freak me out, actually. He stepped out of the bathroom last night, and with all the lights off, I thought he was a random man,” Quinn says, running the tip of a rounded nail across my naked jaw.
Shaving was the right call. She liked the beard at first, but I could tell that it was starting to irritate her thighs from how often I like to have my head between them. If there’s one thing I won’t stand for, it’s being starved of my favourite meal.
Aubrey looks down the row at us and nods. “Yeah, I’ll admit it was freaking me out, too.”
“Coming from the woman dating Finn,” I retort.
“The only hair he keeps on his face is above his lip. And he looks fucking incredible with a mustache.”
“Roman prefers being clean-shaven, too,” Brielle says, offering me a supportive wink.
Quinn laughs and steals the poutine. The first bite she’d taken after I went to the concession was followed by the sexiest little moan. Obviously, I was right to suggest she ditch the stadium dog for fries, cheese curds, and thick gravy. I’ve been smug ever since.
Aubrey huffs. “You betray me so easily, Elle.”
“Hey, you’re right about Finn rocking the stache. I’m in full support of it.”
“Me too,” Quinn agrees.
I narrow my eyes on her. “You think Finn’s good-looking?”
“Oh, here we go,” Brielle sings, patting Quinn’s arm. “Good luck.”
My girl laughs, brushing off my jealousy with a kiss on my jaw. “You know I think you’re hot. There’s no need to search for compliments.”
“Just hot?”
“And sexy, and ripped, not to mention sweet.” She drops her voice and brings her mouth to my ear. “And really, really good in bed.”
My cock hardens in a blink. “That’s right, baby. You’re mine.”
“But I’m still annoyed that you named a stadium drink after me when I haven’t had a chance to finish grovelling.”
“Fuck, you’re amazing,” I growl, yanking her hand back to my lips. It’s the only way to distract myself from yanking her out of her seat and into mine. “It was supposed to be a grand gesture. You were meant to swoon and declare that I’m the sweetest, most thoughtful man alive.”
“You are, but you’re also a pain in my ass.”
“I can’t exactly wait forever for this finale of yours,” I tease.
She pulls back just enough to glare at me. “Is that right?”
“Mmhmm.”
“You’re just impatient.”
It’s already been over a week since she flew to see me in Seattle, but I don’t tell her that.
My experience with Quinn is telling me that would cost me the chance of having her in my sheets all night.
We’ve been alternating between spending our time at her place and mine.
Tonight, we’re at my condo, and I’ve already planned on making her cowboy meatballs and a mug of peppermint tea before fucking her against the living room windows.
The last thing I’m going to do is remind her that I haven’t rated a single drink she’s brought me a ten yet. For some reason that I’ve tried to understand but can’t wrap my head around completely, this is incredibly important to her. If it weren’t, she would have let it go by now.
“That I am,” I agree, reluctantly lowering our joined hands to my lap again.
She exhales and squeezes my fingers. Her head rests against my shoulder, and I let my lungs fill with her black cherry scent. The last inning is starting, and while I wish I were out there playing with my team, I’m grateful for the break.
Baseball has been my one and only love for so long, but Quinn’s taken that top spot now. I want to spend as much time with her as I possibly can. Baseball will be there waiting for me once I’ve finished healing.
After months of wondering if she’d ever choose me back, she has.
She’s the forever love of my life, and I’m hers.
The clubhouse is loud as fuck.
Kellan’s uniform is dripping in Gatorade from his end-of-game dunk.
He shakes his wet hair like Bodi after a bath.
Droplets fly across the clubhouse, but no one is paying attention to that.
Roman’s talking to Jett until he spots Brielle on my left, and then he’s heading our way.
The utter focus in his eyes as he stares at her is good to see.
Their wedding is going to be something none of us will forget, especially with Kellan’s brother’s girlfriend planning it.
From what Quinn’s told me, she’s incredibly talented and has done several weddings for professional athletes before.
Her boyfriend plays for the Vancouver Warriors NHL team, though, so I can’t say I’m surprised. An in is an in.
Aubrey breaks away and steps into Finn’s spread arms. Jett’s daughter is with her mom, so he busies himself with taking his jersey off.
I try to remember the last time he had a girlfriend and come up blank.
Shit, it must have been years ago now. The guy doesn’t know how to think about anything but baseball and Sara.
It’s been too long since Asher’s been in the clubhouse. He doesn’t look any different than he did before he left. That isn’t saying much, though. The guy is allergic to conversation and wears a scowl so intimidating it could scare a baby.
I make a mental note to find him later and ask him how he’s doing.
“Is it always like this after a game?” Quinn asks.
I pick up some tension in her voice but don’t think she’s as nervous as she sounds.
Yeah, there are a lot of guys in here, most of whom she hasn’t met, but she isn’t an overly shy person, and most are too busy doing other things to notice us.
She’s probably just feeling a bit out of her comfort zone.
I flatten her to my side and kiss her temple.
“No. When we lose, everyone sits and mopes for a while before crawling home to lick their wounds.”
Roman moves past us, and I don’t miss the way Quinn stares after him. Rubbing her thighs with the palms of her hands, she shifts her gaze to Brielle. Something moves between them when Brielle winks at her.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Huh?”
I shift to stand in front of her line of vision, discomfort creeping in. She blinks, looking up at me.
“You okay, Quinn?”
A burst of cheering erupts in the clubhouse, confusing me further. Suddenly, Kellan’s beside me. The supportive smile he offers Quinn settles something that I hadn’t realized was so ruffled. He’s been hard on her since our not-breakup, and I guess I was more worried than I wanted to admit.
Small, familiar hands find my chest, demanding my attention. Quinn’s entire face is red, and I fight back the urge to pull her lip free from where she has it trapped between her teeth. It escapes a moment later.
“We’re not leaving here until you find your favourite. I mean it. Whatever plans you’ve come up with tonight will not be happening until you do.”
Confusion leaches into every word I say. “Slow down, baby.”
Roman enters the clubhouse with a handful of unfamiliar faces behind him.
I look from one person to the next, examining the trays in their hands.
There are different Blank Page cups on each, with different-coloured liquid in each one.
A laugh bubbles up my throat as I find Quinn again.
The determination in her eyes is blinding.
“I’m serious, Beck. My grovelling isn’t finished until I find your favourite drink so I can add it to the menu,” she declares, chin high. “Nobody is leaving until you’ve rated something a ten. And you can’t just lie.”
“You’re really this serious about it?”
Her scowl almost has me laughing again. “Obviously!”
“Okay, gorgeous. Bring them on, then.”
Relief flashes across her face. With a wave of her hand, the first tray is brought over while I sit in a leather chair. She doesn’t fight when I pull her onto my lap and take an eager sip of something a light blue colour.
Once I’ve swallowed, I bring it to her lips and arch a brow. Eyes holding mine, she lets me tip it forward. Her reaction is instant, nose crinkling.
We move on to the next. One after the other, we try the drinks together until finally, what feels like hours later, we both pause.
It’s not lost on me that we both enjoy the same one. All this time, I should have just asked her what her drink of choice was, if not peppermint tea. I can’t say I wish I could have gone back and changed how things happened, though.
Not when what I got was so much better.
And I know that this is only the beginning of a lifetime’s worth of moments like these.