Page 67 of Verdict

At Ava.

This guy.

My grip tightened around the leather of my glove as I shifted in position.

He didn’t even try to hide it. Just standing there, staring up into the crowd like he had any right to be looking at her. Like he knew her.

My jaw flexed.

She was single. She could talk to whoever she wanted. Laugh with whoever she wanted. Go out with whoever she wanted.

So why the hell did it feel like he was stepping into something that wasn’t his?

I glanced back over at Ava before I could stop it. She was still talking with Aria, completely unaware of the way he was looking at her.

Of the way I was.

Something possessive pulled tight under my skin.

I didn’t like it. Didn’t like him looking at her like that and I really didn’t like that she might like it. “Hey, Fuller,” I barked, loud enough for him to hear. “Why don’t you focus on getting us out of this fucking inning instead of on the crowd?”

Beckham smirked from third.

The corner of Hudson’s mouth kicked up. “How about you worry about yourself, Jordan? Make sure you’re where I need you to be.”

Motherfucker.

Beckham snorted. My head snapped toward him in warning. He tried but failed to school his features, his grin only getting wider.

The next pitch left Hudson’s hand and the batter sent a laser straight into the gap between second and third. On instinct I shifted right, snatching the ball clean out of the air before it had a chance to drop for the final out of the inning. I jogged past Hudson, "You're welcome." I tossed him the ball with a wink and headed into the dugout.

I batted second in the lineup. While I waited on deck, working through practice swings, I heard my name being called from the stands. It was coming from the direction of Ava and Aria's section. But it wasn't their voices. I turned to look up into the stands.

Shit.

A few rows over standing on her feet was Kate. One of the girls I used to spend time with… before I’d deleted them all from my phone. She tucked a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear and turned to talk to the girl next to her. She was angled just enough to remind me exactly why I’d saved her in my phone as Kate (Nice Ass). She turned her attention back toward me and waved. She then blew me a kiss.

I didn’t mean to, but my eyes shifted left. Ava had seen it. Her expression didn’t change much—but I saw it. The shift. The tightening of her shoulders. But why would it matter to her anyway? She was into Hudson. I saw how she’d looked at him the other day, how her hand lingered a little too long on his arm.

I turned away from the stands, rolling my shoulders loose. Beckham stepped into the on-deck circle as I headed to the plate. “I didn’t realize Zara knew Kate,” he said casually. “Kind of works out though, right? You’ll have a girl tonight when we go out.” Zara was one of the girls Beckham often spent time with when we were in Austin.

Ignoring him, I made my way to the plate.

I was over it. Over my mind being a constant mess. These days, baseball was the only place it went quiet.

I stepped into the box.

Ready.

I stared down the pitcher. The crowd disappeared. The noise faded. Everything fell away leaving nothing but me and the man in front of me.

I was in complete control.

The fastball came in hot; I gripped my bat, pulled back and swung hard. The crack of my bat against the ball was clean. Violent. The ball launched towards centerfield. It wasn't landing. Nope. It soared past the outfield and straight into the stands.

Home run.

The second my foot hit home plate, the noise came rushing back in like a wave crashing over me. The crowd erupted, loud, deafening, electric. My teammates were shouting, hands slapping my helmet as I made my way into the dugout.