Evan rolled his eyes. “Of course that’s what you got from that.” He turned to leave and was almost at the door when CJ spoke again.
“You’re not worried someone will find out?”
Evan froze. “Find out what?” CJ stayed silent, and Evan turned to look at him. “You’re making assumptions, and you’re forgetting one major thing.”
“What’s that?” CJ furrowed his brow, and Evan had a sudden, stupid urge to smooth the line in the center of his forehead with a finger.
“You don’t know anything about me anymore.” He said the words softly, but CJ flinched anyway.
“Right, and now you’re stuck with me right next door,” CJ said finally, his voice too light, like it was a joke he didn’t find funny.
“That doesn’t matter,” Evan replied. “We’re here for six weeks. I think we’ll survive.”
CJ’s jaw flexed like he was swallowing something sour. “Right. Six weeks.”
Evan took a breath. “It doesn’t have to be weird.”
CJ’s mouth twisted. “I don’t see how it could be anything but weird.”
That stung more than it should have. “CJ?—”
“Look,” CJ said, cutting him off as he pushed off the wall. “We’re teammates now. I get it. You like your routine. I’ll stay out of your way. You stay out of mine. We’ll be fine.”
The words were reasonable, but the tone was not, and Evan frowned. Movement caught his eye, and he shifted his gaze to CJ’s hands. One gripped his water bottle and the other flexed like it needed something to do. He remembered the weight and feel of those hands, and he blinked the memory away.
“That’s not what I?—”
CJ shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t owe me an explanation. We’re good.”
We’re not,Evan thought. He stayed silent.
CJ slid past him out the door. “See you at the park tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Evan said. “See you.”
9
CJ
CJ sleptfor maybe three hours. Maybe. The air conditioner hummed its steady white noise, the sheets were clean, and the mattress was thicker and softer than he’d expected. There’d been a time when that would have been enough, when he could drop into bed after a travel day, close his eyes, and be asleep before his head fully hit the pillow. That was before he’d spent seven years carrying around the consequences of a choice he’d never figured out how to make peace with. The motel could have the most comfortable bed in the Southwest, and it wouldn’t have mattered. Sleep was hard to come by when his brain refused to shut up.
After seeing Evan again, his thoughts had found fresh fuel, and the moment he’d turned out the light last night, everything he’d spent seven years burying clawed its way up from the dark. The memories weren’t big or meaningful. They were just flashes of moments. A warm night their sophomore year, the team sprawled across the outfield after conditioning, cooling off in the grass beneath the stadium lights. Evan had been lying on his back beside him, forearm draped over his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly until his breathing turned slow and even.CJ remembered looking over and thinking that he’d never met anyone who carried quiet the way Evan did, steady and calm, allowing space for those around him to relax.
By five a.m., CJ accepted that sleep wasn’t going to happen, and he blew out a frustrated breath, shoved the blanket off, and sat up. He scrubbed both hands over his face, then stood and padded to the bathroom, wincing at his reflection.
“Get it together,” he muttered.
After taking care of business, he threw on a pair of running shorts and a Barracudas T-shirt, grabbed his phone, and cracked open the door to his room. It was early enough that the courtyard was quiet and the sky was just beginning to shift from deep navy to purple. Next door, a light glowed beneath the door. Evan was awake. Of course he was. CJ forced himself to stretch instead of staring like an idiot. Running had always been his thing, had been the way he’d stayed sane in high school, how he’d gotten rid of the pressure in college. How he’d survived every day since he’d been traded.
He ran laps around the blocks of the neighborhood across from the motel, realizing he’d need to map out a more challenging route. Step after step, he tried to outrun the memory of his conversation with Evan last night, and the hurt look on his face when CJ made it clear that they didn’t need to interact. It didn’t work, of course, because he’d never been successful at outrunning his past.
By the time he made it back to the hotel, his T-shirt was drenched with sweat and clung to his back. The sun was gold on the horizon, and he slowed as he entered the courtyard, taking in the mountains in the distance. Turning toward his room, he froze for a moment before slowly continuing.
Evan was there, and CJ tried not to stare. He really did. But he was only human, and Evan was stretching and focused, earbuds in and completely unaware of CJ’s presence. CJ took amoment to really look at Evan. The way his back curved slightly as he reached for his toes, muscles shifting beneath his shirt. CJ’s pulse spiked so hard that he almost tripped. His cheeks flushed, and he hurried to his door, hoping he looked casual and not like panic on two legs.
By the timehe got to the facility, the sun was up and the air smelled like fresh grass. There were already a few guys milling around the door, rookies and guys he recognized from TV, and they nodded at him as he approached the building. A couple offered quick hellos, and CJ coughed to hide a laugh when one rookie tripped over his own feet when CJ said, “Morning.” He wasn’t used to people reacting like that.
Chicago’s fan base had been chaotic, but inside the clubhouse, he’d never been the guy who made another player starstruck.
