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“You’ve got it so bad,” Ella said.
I groaned. “What am I going to do?”
“Take it one day at a time,” Nora said. “That’s all any of us can do.”
I nodded, sipping my coffee. “I love you both,” I said. “Seriously.”
“Ditto,” Ella said.
“Same,” Nora said.
“And hey,” Ella continued. “If this all blows up tomorrow, at least you can say you had a fun, wild ride with a billionaire.”
Nora playfully smacked Ella’s arm, and we all laughed, the tension completely broken, and my heart soothed of the worry.
They were right.
One day at a time. I could manage that.
And most importantly, my heart could manage that, because the more time I spent with Ethan, the more I realized he was dangerously close to doing what he’d set out to do in the first place—make me fall.
CHAPTER 11
Ethan
“That was a nice changeup,” Crossland said from where he sat next to me in the owners’ box. We were in the sixth inning, and Maddox Porter had just struck out his second hitter.
“He’s talented,” I said, perched on the edge of my seat.
“He’s about to do it again,” Hudson Porter said from where he stood leaning against the floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the field, Asher hanging out on his other side.
Maddox Porter’s older brother had an open invitation to this box whenever he wanted to attend a home game—as stated in Porter’s extensive contract demands. This particular demand had been an easy one to comply with, because I genuinely liked Hudson. He was a no-nonsense guy who was fiercely protective of his family, something I deeply understood. He could come to the games as often as he liked, which was more frequent now that he’d retired from the NHL.
“How can you tell?” I asked Hudson, striding from my seat to stand next to him.
“He’s my brother,” Hudson said. “I know all his tells.”
“Lucky you’re not the hitter,” I said.
“Never had a knack for this game like Maddox,” Hudson said, shrugging.
“How is retirement?” Asher asked, watching as Maddox did exactly what his brother said he would, earning us another strike. One more and we’d be up to bat.
“Fantastic,” he answered. “Except for all the sixteen-year-old boys I’m now chasing off my doorstep,” he grumbled. “Elliot thinks it’s hilarious.”
I smiled, knowing enough about Hudson to recognize his adopted daughter’s name.
“Can’t be harder than a fight on the ice every other week, can it?” Crossland asked, joining our little group.
Weston and Brynn watched from a row of cushioned seats behind us, chatting and laughing in between plays. They were so lovestruck, constantly giving each other casual touches or intimate looks that definitely weren’t something we all wanted to see, but I couldn’t really fault them. They’d danced around each other for years. It was about time they owned their happiness.
“You would think,” Hudson answered Crossland. “But I’d take a fired-up rookie on the ice any day over these desperate teenagers. I get it though. Elliot is amazing, but just because they show up at my door doesn’t mean they deserve her attention.”
Crossland laughed.
“And he’s out,” Hudson said, clapping for his baby brother.
I returned my attention to the field, joining the mini-celebration as I watched Maddox fist-bump the air as he ran toward his catcher, Brooks Cameron. They slammed into each other, clearly screaming their excitement before rushing off the field together. They were best friends, and Brooks got into trouble almost as much as Maddox—like the time Maddox was doing an interview in his hotel, only to have Brooks pop out of his closet in a horror costume and scaring the shit out of Maddox and the camera crew. Maddox retaliated by setting one of Brooks’s shoelaces on fire when he wasn’t paying attention during spring training. They were a combined but necessary headache for my team.
“You can leave it there,” I heard Gareth say, and turned at his tone.
Our server—a young man who had done an amazing job at meeting our every need during the game—nodded rapidly, his eyes barely able to meet Gareth’s gaze as he sat down a drink with shaky hands.
“Is there anything else, sir?” the server asked, his voice cracking.
“No,” Gareth said without taking his eyes off the game from where he sat, his drink untouched on the table next to him as the kid nodded and ran off.
“Jesus,” I said, heading over to stand next to Gareth. “You could at least smile so the kid knows you’re not a monster.”
“No point in faking anything,” Gareth said, but smirked up at me as he grabbed his drink.
I shook my head. “I swear you get off on scaring people.”
“Sometimes,” he said without hesitation. “Some people need to be scared.”
“Speaking of,” Crossland said, heading over to join us. “Where is Doyle?”
I scoffed, falling into the seat next to Gareth, Crossland doing the same on the other side. Wes and Brynn were to his left, while Asher remained chatting with Hudson near the glass. “I must’ve forgotten to send his invitation to the game.”
