Page 50 of Curveball

It seemed I didn’t have as much time to work through my shit as I’d hoped.

I gathered my things from the weight bench and headed for my truck. I had dinner plans with the boys tonight. Everything back in Primrose Hill would have to wait for now.

“How’s the elbow feeling, James?” one of my teammates, Beckham Stone, asked, slapping a hand on my shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

We were at our favorite steakhouse, Keller’s, seated around a large round table in a private room that fit all six of us. At the table were me, third baseman Beckham Stone, shortstop Cohen Jordan, catcher Drake Cooper, center fielder Maddox Price, and one of our closers, Shane Witek.

“Elbow’s feeling good. Strong. I’ll be back soon to start throwing again. Dr. Howard and Dr. Bennett are happy with the progress.” I took a long pull from my beer. “Y’all looked good last night. Solid series against Minnesota.”

They all nodded.

“Except we could’ve swept them if dipshit here hadn’t given up that double to Martinez,” Maddox said, shoving Shane’s shoulder.

Shane rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, if your slow ass hustled a little more, it would’ve only been a single.” He shoved Maddox back.

Fuck, I missed this. The shit-talking. The camaraderie. Maddox and Shane were best friends, always giving each other hell. We all did. It kept us hungry. Kept us striving for more.

After dinner, we decided to grab a drink at one of the bars we often frequented after our home games. We settled into the back, spread across a couple of couches, shooting the shit, when a handful of women approached our roped-off area. Cohen, being the playboy that he was, let them in to join us. We were all single, with the exception of Drake.

They were nice enough, but unfortunately, one of them was laser-focused on me. I wasn’t in the mood. The only woman taking up space in my head was Farrah. But I guess that had always been the case.

I humored her and talked for a bit. I wasn’t a complete dick. She was pretty—long dark-blonde hair, big tits that she made no effort to keep out of my face. When she trailed her fingers up my inner thigh, I’d had enough. I lifted her hand and placed it back in her lap.

I glanced at the guys as I stood. “Hey, I’m going to call it a night.”

Drake followed suit. “Yeah, me too.” He looked at me. “I’ll walk out with you.”

I nodded. “Coh, we’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast?”

Cohen peeked around the brunette currently in his lap. “Yup. See you guys tomorrow.” He waved us off before turning his attention back to her.

Typical.

I tossed and turned most of the night. My brain couldn't seem to shut off. All I could think about was Farrah and Hadley. I felt like everything I'd ever wanted was right in front of me, yet just out of arm's reach. I couldn't be selfish in this situation, not with Hadley in the picture. The next morning, after I got out of the shower, I picked up my phone and saw four missed calls from my agent, Scott, and about half a dozen Google alerts.

Fuck me.

I called Scott to see what the issue was. He picked up immediately. "Walker, I've been calling you for the last hour or so."

I placed my phone on speaker and set it on my dresser as I slipped on a pair of gym shorts. "Sorry, man. My phone was on silent. What's up? I'm guessing nothing good, since I saw a bunch of Google alerts. I haven't looked at them yet, figured that’s why you called me."

Scott sighed. "You would be correct. There are some pictures circulating of you at the bar last night with a woman, and as you can imagine, all sorts of bullshit articles saying shit like you may be injured, but that isn't stopping you from playing the other kind of field. Asking if Walker James is back to his old ways." He scoffed. "You would think they could come up with a better line than that."

I blew out a heavy breath. Goddammit. I knew Farrah would see the photos. Just another wrinkle in an already fucked situation. "Yeah, that girl was all over me, and the minute she touched me, I bailed. Nothing happened. You know I haven't done that shit in years."

"I know that, but I needed to check before the team's PR team calls out those publications for bullshit storytelling. Just try to lay low and keep yourself out of the press. We don't need this kind of media attention leading up to your return to the game. It's distracting."

I ran my hand across the back of my neck, frustrated. "I should have just stayed in Primrose Hill," I muttered.

Scott chuckled. "Yeah, that's probably wise. Or just stay out of bars."

After ending the call with Scott, I finished getting ready and headed out to meet up with Cohen and Drake. Both guys were already at the restaurant, sipping coffee. I settled into my seat across from them as Cohen pushed a cup of coffee towards me. After taking a quick sip—PrimCup was better—I focused my attention on Cohen. "How was the rest of your night?"

He chuckled. "How it usually goes when I have a hot girl straddling me." Cohen winked as I rolled my eyes.

"You ever going to outgrow this playboy shit?"

He shook his head. "If it ain't broke…"