“I know, Ry. You’re a protector. That’s what I love about you.” My entire body tenses once the words leave my lips. I didn’t mean to say that. The L-word. I mean it wasn’t quite anI love youdeclaration, but it was pretty damn close. Luckily for me, he either didn’t notice or is choosing to brush over it. He pulls his face away to press a soft kiss to my forehead, dropping his lips lower still to brush them over mine. It’s not quite a kiss, because now is clearly not the time for that. “So, are you going to pick up my things that you threw all over the place?” I ask with an arched eyebrow.
He barks out a laugh, amusement replacing the worry in his eyes. “There’s my firecracker.” He shakes his head with another huff of a laugh before he sets to work reassembling my dumped-out purse. Once everything is returned to its rightful place, Ryan pokes his head around the car we’re still ducked behind. “Alright, coast’s clear. I think we can take it a bit more leisurely for now. How about we head home and order breakfast in. Sound good to you?”
“Yeah, sounds great,” I say with a soft smile as he pulls me to my feet, never once releasing my hand as we weave our way through the streets back to his building.
TWENTY-EIGHT
NO CRYING IN BASEBALL
ISABELLA
After our nearmiss with the paparazzi the morning after the gala we’ve been more careful. We never go out anywhere together anymore. Ryan started doing the coffee runs on his own until he bought a fancy espresso machine so I can make it myself at his place. Our post-game In-N-Out ritual was axed. Anything to avoid another situation where we can get caught.
Ryan barely lets me leave his side whenever the team is home, which means I spend most of those nights at his place. We’ve had a few sleepovers at my place after spending time with Jordan, but quickly nixed those when one of my neighbors recognized him. Now we stick to his place, a fact I’m sure Jordan is overjoyed by anyway. Living with a roommate when you’re also having the best sex of your life? Two things thatdefinitelyshouldn’t go together.
July’s heat turned into a sweltering August, turned into a milder September. The Suns clinched a spot in the playoffs and it’s the second to last week of the regular season. Ryan and the team are pushing themselves harder in practices, getting ready to make their run for the World Series. I think they’re going todo it. Not that I know enough about the other teams to make that assessment. But it’s a gut feeling I have. They’re going to make it to the World Series.
The sports program is in a really good spot, granted it’s only been in full swing for the MLB so far, but I’ve already started to implement it with the local NFL team, using their pre-season games as a trial run. And come October, we’ll do the same with the NHL and NBA teams.
I’m scrolling through emails on the football implementation, which is probably why my brain doesn’t immediately process the stadium-wide gasp that rings out until the silence breaks through my focus.
Ever heard that saying about silence being loud?
Hell, Taylor Swift even has a song lyric about it.
And damn was she right, because I’ve really never heard how loud silence could be until this very moment.
My head pops up from the phone to see Annie and her co-presenter both staring out at the field from the studio with looks of equal shock and horror.
Maybe a fan fell from one of the upper decks. I’ve read articles about it happening before. That would be horrific.
I peek over at Jamie and see the same expression on his face as I sidle up to him. “What happened?” I keep my voice a low whisper with how quiet it is in the studio.
He flicks his eyes over to me for a minute before turning them back to the field. My view is still obstructed by the camera equipment and crew members crowded around the wall of windows trying to get a better look at the field below.
“I didn’t get a good look at the play, but it looks like someone’s down. He must be hurt real bad for everyone to be this quiet.”
My stomach curdles at the thought of any of the Suns players being injured. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m friends with themyet, but some of these guys are friend adjacent. And they mean so much to Ryan. They’re practically family.
“Do you know who it was?” I ask as I try to poke my head around the obstacles blocking my view.
“No, but…” He trails off and gives me a wary look that makes my stomach roll.
“But what, Jamie?” Bile rises in my throat, as if my body knows exactly the next words he’s going to say before he speaks them.
“But… it’s over near first base.”
My head rears back and I stumble a step. His words crash into me like a freight train.No.No. It was the batter that was injured. Or the outfielder was too close to first base that it justlookslike first base. Or even the pitcher. I’ve seen Hunter take over at first while Ryan runs to field a ball to get the out.
I shake my head, but the adrenaline and fear racing through my body tells me I should trust my gut on this one. I vaguely hear the presenters asking the analysis team in the booth to replay the footage. I find myself edging around the room enough so I can get a view of the monitor over someone’s shoulder.
And right there, clear as day, I watch Cooper snag a grounder from the third base line and launch it like a rocket across the field to Ryan at first.
Where it clips the tip of his glove and hits him square in the chest.
And he collapses.
My hands fly to cover my mouth and stifle the involuntary gasp.
