“I like this part too,” he said.
CJ couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face, and he set his hand palm up on the counter without thinking. Evanlooked at it for half a second before placing his own hand in CJ’s and threading their fingers together. CJ closed his grip carefully and knew, with startling certainty, that he would carry the memory of this morning longer than any other important moment in his life.
They hadan early-afternoon game the day before the All-Star break started, which meant the clubhouse was filled with the kind of restless energy that always came with a short stretch of freedom. Around them, guys talked openly about flights, beaches, and doing absolutely nothing for four straight days. Every conversation seemed to include some version ofjust get through the day.
CJ understood the feeling.
They won in the tenth inning on a walk-off single from Noah, which sent forty thousand people into a frenzy and delayed CJ’s plans by another twenty minutes of celebration, interviews, and handshakes. He smiled through all of it. He was genuinely happy to win, but he was also silently begging everyone to leave him alone.
By the time he reached the clubhouse, half the team was already gone and those still there were changing at record speed. The room was missing the usual post-game chaos—no loud music, no one shouting conversations in the showers—just a hectic quiet from guys who were already mentally checked out.
Rizzo was at his locker fully dressed, running a hand through still-damp hair while he checked his phone.
“You leaving for the festivities from here?” CJ asked as he dropped onto the bench at his own locker.
Rizzo nodded and slid his phone into his pocket. “Yeah, just waiting for my ride to get here.”
He said it with his usual swagger, but something in the delivery was just a little too casual and polished. When Rizzo looked up, his grin was in place, but there was a thread of nerves underneath it that most people would miss completely. But most people hadn’t spent as much time with Rizzo as CJ had.
Rizzo carried himself like a veteran, like he’d been in the league for years, when he’d actually been called up in the middle of last season and never sent back down. He wore his confidence like a well-tailored suit, and most days, it fit well enough that no one thought to look any deeper.
But this was different. This was Rizzo’s first All-Star selection and the media circus he faced after games wouldn’t compare to what he would face at the All-Star Game. He’d be in a room full of players he’d spent his teen years watching. Of course he cared more than he would admit.
CJ leaned back into his locker stall and stretched his legs out. “You nervous?”
Rizzo scoffed. “About what?”
“Come on.” CJ tipped his head. “You’ve checked your phone six times in the last two minutes.”
“That’s because people love me.”
“Or maybe it’s because you’re anxious.”
Rizzo opened his mouth to deny it, then sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Maybe a little.”
CJ smiled. “That’s normal.”
“I know it’s normal,” Rizzo retorted. “It’s still annoying.”
“You’ll be fine,” CJ said softly, and when he looked over, CJ saw a glimpse of the kid Rizzo tried to hide.
“Yeah?”
CJ nodded. “You’ll charm everyone, say something stupid on live TV, and probably make at least one old baseball writer furious.”
That made Rizzo laugh. “So, a successful trip.”
“It’ll be a banner week for you.”
They were quiet for a moment, and CJ pulled off his shirt
Across the room, Evan was drying his hair after his shower, mostly dressed except for his shirt, and CJ’s attention caught for just a second too long. Rizzo noticed immediately. He straightened slowly and looked from CJ to Evan, then back again.
“So, that’s going well then.”
It wasn’t a question, and CJ didn’t give him a response. Instead, he pulled his shirt over his head, kicked off his cleats, and started getting ready to shower.
Rizzo stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Not answering is an answer.”
