Hey, boss, I’d really like to leave the team and be traded to the farthest possible part of the world because I drunkenly confessed that I’m still in love with a guy I dated in college.
Perfect.
The only problem with that plan was the GM and how much he seemed to hate Matt.
Shaking his head, Evan shut the water off and leaned back against the shower wall. For a moment, he just stood there letting the water drip off his body. Then he reached for the towel hanging beside the shower, scrubbing it through his hair before pushing the damp curls back so they could fall in his eyes again.
Evan stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around his waist, grabbing another to rub the rest of the water from his chest and arms, thankful he couldn’t see his reflection in the steamed-up mirror. Mirrors didn’t lie, and he was pretty sure he looked like he’d been hit by a truck. Red eyes, hair damp and sticking up in places from being rubbed with a towel. He didn’t need to see it.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
He dropped the towel onto the counter and dragged a clean T-shirt over his head before he padded barefoot down the hall.
The apartment was too quiet when he made his way into the living room. A day off meant no schedule to hide inside. No practice, no meetings, no clubhouse noise to drown out his thoughts. He wandered into the kitchen and started the single-serve coffeemaker, leaning against the counter while it brewed.
The routine act helped distract him, but it didn’t stop the replay of last night running through his head. Evan kept seeing the look on CJ’s face when he’d spoken, kept remembering how CJ hadn’t laughed or pulled away. But he couldn’t make it make sense. CJ should have run. That’s what he did. But he hadn’t, and Evan didn’t know what that meant. He rubbed the heel of his hand over his chest, trying to press down the restless energy building inside him.
By midmorning, Evan had cleaned the kitchen, reorganized the cabinets, then put everything back the way it was, andvacuumed the living room. Twice. He checked his phone for a text he knew wouldn’t come, but it still bothered him when there wasn’t a notification waiting. It made sense, of course, but Evan was still bothered that CJ hadn’t reached out.
When early afternoon rolled around, Evan was ready to crawl out of his skin, so he shoved his phone into his pocket, pulled on some sneakers, and went for a run. He didn’t need to dig too deep to figure out why he chose to take the stairs down fourteen flights instead of walking past CJ’s door to get the elevator. The ocean breeze hit him the moment he stepped outside, and he paused for a moment, lifting his face toward the sunlight and letting the warmth spread across his skin.
This was the version of California people imagined when they talked about living here. Endless blue sky, palm trees shifting lazily in the breeze, and air warm enough that it felt like summer even when it technically wasn’t.
Evan stretched just enough so he wouldn’t regret it later before heading across Pacific Highway toward the bay. When he reached North Harbor Drive, he lengthened his stride and pushed harder, settling into a pace that made his lungs burn. The steady slap of his shoes against the pavement began to drown out the noise in his head, and he ran until the ache in his chest came from exertion instead of memory. By the time he circled back toward his building, sweat clung to his shirt and the restless energy that had been buzzing under his skin all morning had finally dulled to something manageable.
Back upstairs, he showered again quickly, then pulled on clean clothes and collapsed on the couch with his phone in his hand. After a moment, he thumbed the screen on and scrolled through the notifications he’d ignored on his run. Still nothing from CJ. Evan exhaled slowly through his nostrils and tipped his head back against the cushion to stare at the ceiling.
It wasn’t like he’d expected CJ to reach out. Honestly, the logical outcome of the previous night’s shitshow was silence. It was a pattern they were both very good at maintaining. Still, this time, the quiet seemed to weigh more than it had other times. Part of him had hoped—stupidly, apparently—that CJ might text. Even something small likeheyoryou good? Instead, there was nothing.
Evan rubbed a hand over his chest, the dull ache returning now that the adrenaline from his run had faded.
Maybe CJ had heard everything Evan said and decided it was easier to keep the past exactly where it was. Maybe that was the message.
Evan let his phone fall to the couch beside him and closed his eyes. He hadn’t expected to hear from CJ, but that didn’t stop the silence from disappointing him anyway.
15
CJ
In the twoweeks following Evan’s drunken confession, CJ became very aware of how good Evan could be at disappearing. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Evan had always been disciplined to the point of obsession, and once he made up his mind that something wasn’t happening, he would structure his entire life around that decision.
Apparently, CJ now fell into that category.
If you understood the rhythm of the clubhouse, it was easy to avoid someone. On practice days, players moved through the building in patterns: early arrivals drifted to the cage, pitchers claimed the training room, and position players filtered out to the field in loose waves. On game days, everyone had their position-specific drills to run, so interactions happened mainly in the clubhouse. It was pretty easy for CJ to spot the changes.
If CJ walked into the weight room, Evan suddenly remembered something he needed from the trainers. If CJ made his way toward the batting cage, Evan finished his round early and handed his practice bat to the equipment manager. When team meetings ended and players spilled into the hallway in loose groups, there were always a few seconds when CJ thoughtthey might wind up walking out near each other, but they never did. Evan always magically had something he needed to discuss with one of the coaches, just long enough that it looked weird for CJ to hang around and wait.
For the first few days, CJ thought it was coincidence.
By day four, he knew it wasn’t.
By the eleventh day, CJ was almost impressed.
There were opportunities for them to talk, moments CJ could have used to check in, but Evan refused to take them. He wasn’t rude about it. He never ignored him outright, and if they crossed paths on the field, Evan nodded like CJ was any other teammate. During drills he was professional and focused, the way he’d always been. But every time a moment appeared where they might end up alone, Evan slipped sideways out of it.
Which was exactly why CJ was standing outside the stadium after a game.
Waiting.
