Page 119 of Third Strike Smitten

I press the ice pack harder against my shoulder. “Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that shit. I saw Daniels stalk out of here and he is not happy.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Talk to me. What happened?”

I stare at the ice pack on my shoulder, watching a drop of condensation roll down the plastic. “She’s gone, Hop.”

“Who’s gone?” Carter asks.

All I have to do is look at my brother and he knows. “Isla?”

I nod silently.

Alaric mumbles, “What the fuck?”

“No way,” Brock scoffs. “She’d never just leave.”

Carter watches me from his seat. “Gone where, Kill?”

“She got a new assignment,” I say, the words tasting like acid on my tongue. “New York. Starts October 1st.”

Bishop’s eyes widen. “October 1st? That’s like…”

“Day after tomorrow.” I nod. “Her contract ended after our last flight since we don’t need her anymore.”

“So, she’s already gone?” Brock looks around the clubhouse like he expects to find her hiding in a locker.

I shrug. “I assume so. I haven’t seen her since the other morning when she told me her contract was up.”

“Did you ask her to stay?” Bishop leans forward, his catcher’s intuition reading me like a pitch sequence.

“Please, Isla. Stay.”

“All you have to do is stay. Love me. And let me love you.”

Of course I asked her to fucking stay.

His question pisses me off. “What would be the point? If she wanted to stay, she would. If she loved me, she’d choose me.”

Bishop lets out a frustrated breath. “Kill, that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard you say, and I’ve heard you say a lot of stupid shit.”

“Thanks, bro. Real supportive.”

“I’m serious.” He kicks my foot with his cleat. “Did you actually ask her to stay, or did you just assume she wouldn’t want to?”

“We had an arrangement alright? The whole thing was fake and now it’s over.”

Bishop leans back in his chair, his jaw hanging open. “Come again?”

I let out a deep sigh. “Look, I needed someone to hang with for the season so the front office wouldn’t trade me. You all said I needed to find a woman…a…a fuck buddy…” My stomach rolls at the mere thought of talking about Isla as if she’s meaningless. “So that’s what I did. And Isla needed someone to be her plus-one to the charity gala so we…you know, came up with a plan to help each other out. No strings. No feelings. No…emotional bullshit.”

Carter shakes his head slowly, his stare piercing me. “You stupid fucking piece of shit.”

I round on my friend, anger flowing through me. “What the fuck, Carter?”

“You fell in love with her,” he states plainly. “You made some stupid ass arrangement with her and then you went and fell for her. You brought on the emotional bullshit. Admit it. We all know you’re in love with her. We’ve known it for a while.”

“He’s right, man,” Brock says with a bob of his head. “What you two had going would’ve been pretty hard to fake.”

“Tell me you don’t love her,” Bishop demands, staring me down. “Tell me she doesn’t mean shit to you and we’ll stop this conversation right fucking now and leave you alone.”