I kissed her temple, savoring the scent of her. “I’m sorry, Kins.”
“Why are you sorry?” she hiccupped against my chest. “I’m the one who fucked up.”
“We both did,” I insisted, pushing her back so her eyes met mine. “I didn’t mean for anything I offered to be seen as pity. You’ve worked hard, and fuck, baby, I just want to ease that burden. Kins, you’ve made so many dreams come true for me. Ones I never even dared to voice.” My fingers ran through the strands of her dark hair. “If I can help do the same for you, I want to do it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want you to think…”
“Think what?”
“That I’m using you for money,” she sighed. “I already know how this looks. You’ve got a great contract, and I’m barely scraping by. People are going to talk, Jace. I don’t want to make it look any worse.”
“Fuck that,” I growled, pulling her closer to me. “I don’t give a single shit what others think. You and I arepartners, Kins, which means your happiness is my first fucking job. Everyone else can go to hell if they try to question us.”
“How do you have so much faith?” Her voice was so soft, softer than I’d ever heard before.
“Because I love you, Kinsley. I love you more than I ever thought possible.” Her grasp tightened on me. “I searched for you for two years, when you were nothing more than a memory. Now that I’ve had you, know what it’s like to be loved by you? I’m not letting anything get between us again.”
She sniffed, but then her eyes searched mine, as if trying to find the strength or courage to admit she felt the same. The silence killed me, but I didn’t want her to say she loved me because of guilt or our fight. So, before she could respond, I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I’m not going anywhere, Kinsley. And if you try to run from me, I’m going to follow.”
The summer heatwas in full force by mid-season. While the breeze over the lake tried to keep some coolness in the air, the humidity almost strangled us each time we walked out onto the field. By the time I hit the showers after a long game, every fiber of my body raged against each step, ready to collapse next to Kinsley in her bed.
As I toweled off from my shower, I changed and headed back to the emptied clubhouse. The entire team felt the morose mood as we stomped in after the game, not saying much to each other as we tried to shake off the sting of our loss. We’d been riding high after ten consecutive wins, but we’d gotten cocky—and Boston had taken full advantage, scoring early and keeping up their lead all game long.
Now, I was the only one left in the room, the only sounds were the drone of the lights and conversations echoing in from the hallway. The room still smelled of sweat and leather, seeping deep in my pores despite the shower.
My fingers tensed as I grabbed my phone from the top shelf of my locker, dozens of texts and missed calls filling the screen. Three from my agent—I’d ignore those until tomorrow. Four missed calls and seven messages from my dad? Yeah, fuck that. He could sit and deal with his anger on his own tonight. My head was already a mess, and I didn’t need him to pile on. Two goddamn errors.Two.Dropping a ball in the outfield, and a disaster of a goddamn throw to second base. I hadn’t made two errors in my entire last season.
God, I was so fucking tired. Anna had been up most of the night, thanks to the new teeth cutting into her gums. There was no sleeping through her wails. We’d been up for hours, and I was feeling it now, all my senses and reflexes duller. Even Kinsley, who took it all in stride, was miserable this morning, barely bothering to say goodbye when we walked out the door.
But I didn’t dare say anything, not after our fight last week. We were still walking on eggshells, trying to find our footing after Kinsley tried to bolt and I admitted I was in love with her—something she’d yet to return. She showed me how much she loved me every day, but not hearing the words was eating away at me. I wanted to show her off to the world, to have her at every game, cheering for me in the crowd.
Was it me? Sure, I’d fucked up by offering to cover all her bills, but I couldn’t help it. Not being able to help her killed me, especially now, knowing how she’d put her dreams on hold, unsure if she’d ever get back to them. I’d been there not too long ago, holding on to that shred of hope I’d get back to the majors. My downfall had been of my own making.
“Lyons.” My head jerked up at the sound of Benny’s voice echoing across the room. “You got a minute?”
Fuck. Last time I’d been alone in a room with our team manager, I’d left with my pride and my career in tatters. Asmuch as I admired Benny, it was hard to forget my past around him, like he was waiting for me to fail again.
I moved into his office and dropped onto the couch, not bothering to look up as he settled behind his desk. The room was small but cluttered. A calendar filled the far side of the wall, covered with notes and post its. Benny sat back in his dark leather chair, running his hand over his face.
“What happened out there today, Jace?”
I shook my head, trying to control my trembling legs, but the right one kept up its erratic beat, almost in time with my pulse. “Just an off day, Weber. I’ll have it together by tomorrow.”
He hummed in response, crossing his arms over his chest. “I believe you.” Shock must have filled my features, because he smirked at me. “Look, if this was two years ago, I’d have your ass on the bench for the next month. But you’ve come back with a better head on your shoulders—leaving all that bullshit on the field, not letting the doubters get you down.”
“Th-thank you,” I stammered, clearing my throat. “I’m trying, Benny. I want—no, I need to be here. Need to prove myself.”
“You don’t need to prove anything to anyone, Jace. If I had any doubts about your skills, you sure as shit wouldn’t be here.”
His confidence stole the words from me. How the hell had we gotten here? Benny cleared his throat, and the humor faded from his eyes. Dread pooled in my stomach, and my hands tightened. “There’s, uh, another reason I wanted to talk to you. The front office has been getting calls from your dad, demanding seats for the next home game.”
His eyes held a question, so I shook my head. “Don’t let him through the door, Benny.”
His brow arched, and his hand ran over his salt and pepper scruff. “I have history with Tate.”
“Yeah, I know.”
My face betrayed nothing, not wanting to get between them. I cut my dad out of the picture, but he knew plenty of people in the league, so I weighed my words about him. If Benny insisted on giving him a ticket, that was on him, but I wanted nothing to do with the bastard.
