“We can talk about it later, if you want. Preferably in bed with way less clothes.” He smirked and looked real pleased with himself and I found myself grinning back at him. We were bantering. Jeff and I.
And it feels natural and amazing.
“You’re insatiable, really.” I pushed my hair out of my face and willed my skin to not redden at his attention. “This morning wasn’t enough?”
His face softened. “Not with you.”
I cleared my throat and glanced at the floor for a second to catch my breath. This was a lot to handle. My uncle, Brandon, then Jeff saying we were together.I need a drink.“Well, I’m going to head out, but maybe if you want to stop over after practice, we can talk?”
“Already planned on it.” He looked outside and winced. “Are you sure you don’t want to get an Uber or something?”
“No. The cold will do me good with all the heated looks you’re giving me,” I teased, earning an appreciative grin. “By the way, is there a coach named Tony?”
“Tony? Not that I know of. Why?”
“He’s the guy I saw walking with my uncle. He called him Tony.”
The internet hadhundreds of photos of the baseball team, the players, even the coaches, but there were no pictures of the middle-aged man I’d seen walking with my Uncle Martin. I even searched for an hour through the hockey team photos and volleyball to see if the guy’s face would pop up in anything. While it was frustrating, it didn’t surprise me.
My uncle’s reaction to seeing me there with him had sparked something in my gut. Tony mattered in all of this and I had no idea how. I twirled my pen around in my hand for a minute before sketching out my initial thoughts.
Someone is going to these high schools and or meeting with parents to discuss some sort of deal.
Someone is involved in baseball, volleyball and hockey organizations at some point within the past four years. Potentially other sports.
One hockey coach quit two years ago and nothing shady reported since.
The stories of the fake-athletes all match.
We have a phone number of one of them.
Uncle Martin is involved.
Some sort of dean is involved.
We had enough to write an initial report…but where to start? Did I focus on the fake-athletes, their parents, the money or the coaches? Hell, did I go after the deans in an article, calling for them to explain it? I needed to understand how spots were determined for each sport and how they were recruited. That meant I needed to talk to the Dean of Athletics.
I rubbed my temples and eyed my list of actual homework that I hadn’t started. My final project remained a blankdocument and I couldn’t recall why I couldn’t use this article as my final. The requirements all pertained to the research I’d been doing with Jeff and it would save me hours of time. I was about to jot down how I could tweak my notes and interview transcripts when the doorbell rang.
Laney was at yoga still and my pulse picked up.Jeff. It’s too early for practice to be out though.
I skipped downstairs with a huge smile on my face as I opened the door. “Hey, stranger.”
It wasn’t Jeff.
It was my Uncle Martin and he looked pissed.
23
JEFF
With our first game in two weeks, practice was more relaxed that I’d anticipated for a Saturday. Everyone was in good spirits, laughing and busting ass to prepare for our opener against our rivals. Zade was throwing fire on the mound, Tanner playing with a fierceness I hadn’t seen before in the outfield and Hilly, he took his role of leader on the field seriously. He’d always covered a lot of ground at shortstop, but he seemed bigger this year, diving and back-handing grounders better than I had seen before. I had never been prouder of my best friends and teammates and a wave of complete regret startled me as we were picking up equipment for the day. My final season with them, with the sport itself, and the last time we would all be on the field together was coming to a close.
Can I really walk away from this?
“Maddow, come here for a second.” Coach Tee gestured with his large hand and I nodded before walking toward him. He’d played minor league baseball for a couple of years and had incredible insight when it came to calling pitches. “You seemed tense today. What’s going on?”
Am I just walking around with a fucking stick up my ass?
