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With a grunt, I tossed my phone into the locker. My dad was still recovering and didn’t text the way he used to. Not often, at least. He and I had talked a few minutes ago, so I wouldn’t hear from him again. And apparently, Avery had a thing.
And was it just me, or had she been cagy about what her plans were? It wasn’t my place to demand details, but her short responses had a knot forming in my gut. I sank into my white folding chair and glared at the Revs logo in the center of the floor. Most of my teammates were chilling on the sofas surrounding the space, but I had no interest in being social.
I hadn’t seen Avery since that stupid goodbye at the hospital because I’d only gotten back from New York a few hours ago. The triphad been successful, and my father would be moving into a small apartment near mine and finishing up his rehab here. I wanted him close, and we both agreed that it would benefit Gianna if we relieved some of the stress she’d been under. Over the last month, she’d been more down than normal.
Still, I had hoped to see Avery after the game was over. I’d envisioned bumping into her in the team room and asking her to hang out after. We were only here for another day before we left on a four-game road stretch, but I desperately needed to talk to her face to face.
“You good, Damiano?”
I snapped my head up and zeroed in on Wilson, who was standing in the doorway to his office with his hands resting on either side of the frame. He assessed me with a wariness I didn’t quite understand. Not only had we not had any issues for weeks, but I hadn’t had a single problem with fans or the media during spring training. I thought I’d finally found his good side. The running joke was that I’d been reformed during the offseason. Hannah liked to take credit. It was all stupid.
I cleared my throat. “All good.”
He watched me for a long moment, not speaking. Then, with a nod, he turned and disappeared into the recesses of his office.
Weird. Although maybe it wasn’t. Normally, I had a routine. And today, I wasn’t on my phone with AirPods in. I sat forward, resting my elbows on my knees and running my hands through my hair, willing the trepidation that had been eating at me to fuck off so I could get in the right headspace for the game.
Price pulled up a chair next to me and dropped into it, legs spread wide. “Worried about the arm?”
I shook my head.
“Good.” He reached out to pat my shoulder but stopped himself. “Sorry. No touching.” He crossed his arms and leaned back. “Don’t stress. Your fastball only improved this year, and your slider is exactly where it should be.”
“No, I’m good.” Standing, I snagged my AirPods from my locker and popped them into my ears. Then I slumped back in the chair again and closed my eyes. I didn’t cue up a playlist, but my teammatesdidn’t need to know that. Normally, this was the only signal they needed when I wanted to be left alone.
After I pitched a ho-hum first inning where we almost hadn’t kept the Rockies from scoring, Emerson slid onto the bench next to me.
“You freaking out about…” He glanced over at Wilson, like he was making sure he was out of earshot, then lowered his head. “Avery.”
I kept my face set in a blank mask and focused on Eddie Martinez as he stepped up to bat. “I don’t know. It just feels weird.”
“I bet it does.” Emerson snorted.
The crack of the bat echoed through the stadium, and Eddie’s bouncing grounder slipped between first and second, putting him on base easily.
Emerson scratched his head. “I don’t know why she’s going out with him.”
The words registered slowly, but when they did, my stomach dropped to the floor. I turned to face my friend, feeling like I was moving through thick putty. “What?”
He shrugged and frowned, which was an odd expression for my always jovial roommate. “I know. It’s been a year, yeah, but did she have to go out with someone on opening day? Come on. Even Wren realized it would fuck with your head, so she told me to keep an eye on you.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I blinked. Then I did it again. The world around me went blurry, and suddenly, I couldn’t feel my face.
Was he saying that Avery,my Avery, was currently out on a date with another man? My hands shook so violently I had to fist them against my thighs as I cleared my throat and searched my brain for the right words to ask.
“She’s dating?” I growled.
He turned and finally really looked at me. His eyes went wide, and he slid back just a little. “Uh. That’s what I heard.” Cracking his knuckles—a nervous habit of his, I’d learned over the years—he whirled around. “Streaks, come here.”
Kyle slid down the bench. “You freaking out about Avery and that douchebag reporter?”
I blinked, and my already cracked heart split right in two. Did everyone but me know about this? My chest felt funny, and I thought maybe my hands were numb now, as well as my face. And my chest burned. Wait. Was I breathing? I sucked in a hard breath.
“How long?” I wheezed.
Kyle tilted his head to the side, and Emerson frowned again.
“How long has she been dating him?” I gritted out through clenched teeth.
