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He shrugged and scooped it up with far more grace than he’d possessed so far tonight. “Eh, it’s just water. This carpet thing’ll dry. But I’m the Revs’ third baseman, and he’s their new pitcher.”
My toes were damp, and the water was slowly seeping closer. I’dcreated a puddle. Yup, a puddle. But I couldn’t focus on the mess. Becausenew pitcher? Christian Damiano…
Like a trailer for the worst movie of the year, my brain ran through what I’d heard about spring training, highlighting the key Damiano parts.
Total hothead. No idea why Langfield called Damiano up…
Do you know what Damiano did when he was pulled today? Flipped the bat rack and told me to go to purgatory. Said it would be a fitting fate for me to be stuck wondering if I’d been doomed to hell rather than rotting in the known…
Freaking Damiano told the reporters that he shouldn’t have been pulled and that he couldn’t be blamed for the lack of faith the coaches show their players…
Talent is one thing, but the kid can’t control himself when he’s angry. The sound bites are going to fuck this season…
Ya know what Damiano said today? He said the reason I wear a higher-profile hat isn’t because I’mold. It’s because my demon horns need room to breathe.
“You okay?” Emerson asked.
I blinked back to the moment. Back to the dark room. How long had I been standing here?
“Yeah. Yeah.” I nodded too aggressively. “So cool.Baseball.” That came out weird. I forced a smile and pumped my fist. “Go team.”
For the first time, Emerson wasn’t smiling. In fact, his brows were pinched like he was concerned, like it had finally occurred to him I might be insane.
I had to get out of here. “Well, good luck tomorrow.” I turned and rushed back toChristian Damiano’sroom, snatched my jeans and shoes off the floor, and flew out the door, away from yet another bad decision.
As I walked home wearing my jeans and Chris’s shirt, I made myself a promise. Something had to change.
At the soundof my alarm, I slapped at the device to shut off the awful buzz. Then I spun and reached out for the beautiful blond beside me. But I was met with cold sheets and nothing more.
I cracked my eyes open and scanned the room. She’d tried to get out of bed in the middle of the night, but when I’d pulled her close, she’d cuddled right into me. The sigh that left her lips had whispered through every cell in my body, even when I was half-awake. But now she was gone.
Her thong and shirt were still strewn on the floor next to my side of the bed. Had she really fled my house half-naked? What the fuck happened?
I snagged yesterday’s boxers off the floor and tugged them on, then left my room.
Emerson stood in the kitchen, fully dressed, beaming at me far too brightly. “Morning, roomie. Need a good-luck hug?”
Jesus. Why did I decide it was a good idea to live with the unicorn of happiness?
I glared at my chipper roommate. “Where is…” Shit. I didn’t even know her name. How was that possible? The connection I’d felt with her was like nothing else, and yet I’d been a shithead last night. Because not only had Inotgotten her number, I didn’t even know her name.
“The blond?” Emerson raised a brow at me.
I had one second to decide how to play this with him. And I had no intention of wearing my heart on my sleeve. So I shrugged. “Yeah, where’s Blondie?”
“She was here at two. She and I had the weirdest heart-to-heart. She sprayed me with water, and we both laughed.”
I ground my teeth, trying to be cool, and asked, “Why’d she spray you with water, man?”
“Women.” He shrugged. “Who the hell knows.” Then he snapped a finger and pointed to a plate on the counter. “Made a burrito for you. Car service will be here in ten, so unless you want to be trending because of all that.” He waved a hand up and down, gesturing to my lack of clothing. “Get clothes on.”
How the hell was he so cheery at seven fifteen a.m.?
I supposed I should be appreciative of the guy. Emerson might be all sunshine and rainbows, but he didn’t harp on shit. That, thankfully, meant there wasn’t another mention of the blond on the ride to the stadium. And it was time for me to take a page out of his book and forget her. I needed to be in the zone.
Pop: you focused? Let go of the shit that doesn’t matter. Just focus on you, the ball, and the catcher’s glove.
I smiled. After my morning workout and warm-ups, I’d made my way to the locker room to get ready. My AirPods had been in my ears for the last forty minutes, and my phone was set on Do Not Disturb, successfully allowing me to tune everyone out. It was just me, and I was in the zone. The only contact whose texts and calls appeared on my screen and chimed in my ears was Pop. My dad was the calming force in my life.
