Loud cheers erupt as Dante grabs the hat from me, placing it on his head with a wide smile. “I’ve been told I have to say it was just an unlucky accident when Morales tripped, and totally wasn’t intentional because he’s an asshole.”
“Hate that guy,” someone murmurs.
“Justice for Layla!” another shouts.
“Alright!” Coach yells as he comes into the room, and everyone quiets down. “Before we allow any reporters in here, let me make this clear — no more incidents with Morales. As much as I’d love to see you unleash hell on that piece of shit, if he plays tomorrow night, we play clean. Do we understand?”
“If he plays tomorrow night?” I ask.
Coach’s lips twitch as he fails to hide a smile. “He may have a pulled hamstring and may be listed as day-to-day.”
“Oh no,” Jake says with a fake scowl. “Poor guy. I’m just so sad he might have been hurt. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?”
It is indeed.
“Callahan,” Coach barks, his eyes on his phone.
“Yeah, Coach?” I ask as I sidle next to him.
He lowers his voice. “This is as far as it goes with Morales. You understand me? The team GM just texted me. He wanted to know what is going on between the two of you. Asked if it had anything to do with Layla, since someone from the team reported back to him that Morales showed up at the hotel last night.”
“Shit,” I mutter. Clearly, I’m a worse liar than I thought. “I promise I won’t interact with Morales anymore.”
He leans in. “Give Layla a little space, too. You’re walking a narrow line right now.”
I nod, but I already know I won’t be giving her even an inch of extra space.
I’ma bundle of nerves as I await the team’s return.
I’m surprised I haven’t worn down the carpet in my room as I’ve paced, prowling around the small space like a caged animal.
It’s been quite some time since I’ve had an opportunity to watch a game on television, and I was unprepared for the visceral reaction I had to seeing Max play. Usually, I’m behind the scenes. I might speak with a player here or there during the game, but I’m focused on liquids, electrolytes, after-game care, and planning for the following day. Tonight, however, I was able to sit and watch the game.
The glare that Max wore for the majority of the game? Infuriatingly hot. He seemed to throb with tension, and even the announcers commented on how intense he was. They couldn’t understand why Max was so angry, but I did. I knew exactly where his gaze was directed. Straight at Javier.
The moment that Max threw from right field to third base was ridiculous. Not only because it’s a hell of a throw, but they replayed it a bunch of times, even in slow motion, and I was close to coming. Every muscle in his arms flexed perfectly. It was spectacular.
Then they zoomed in as Max trotted pastJavier and questioned why Max smiled. If only they knew! If only the media knew it was because of me. How I’ve somehow acquired my own growly knight in shining armor.
“Layla!” someone shouts from outside my door. “Come out here and celebrate!”
I throw open the door to find Jake and Dante, then watch as the rest of the team ambles down the hallway.
“Did ya like that?” Dante asks, making me giggle.
“I did.”
“Did it look like an accident?” he inquires.
“Yeah. Did Max tell you to do that?” I whisper.
Dante shakes his head. “He didn’t tell us to do anything. We protect our own, Lay. You’re one of us, and we don’t allow assholes to fuck with our family.”
He opens his arms, and beaming, I step into them. Jake throws his arms around me, then another player joins in. Suddenly, I’m engulfed in a huge group hug, and it is something I didn’t know I needed. I hear a scuffle, and when I raise my head, I see Max slowly pulling each guy away. When he gets to me, he smiles. “You good?”
I nod, a bit of emotion clogging my throat. “Thank you.”
He shrugs sheepishly, forking his fingers through his still wet hair. “No thanks needed. It’s been a long day, so I’m going to get some sleep. Glad you’re okay.”
