Page 25 of Double Play

“How long have you known?” I croak.

“I didn’t.”

“But you acted like⁠—”

“The sexual tension between the two of you is so strong, it audibly crackles.”

I laugh bitterly and roll my head back to ceiling-stare position. “I think you mean awkward tension. We haven’t exactly spoken to one another since she’s been here.”

“So, more lies and secrets,” he quietly states, reminding me I promised him I’d look after her, and then dodged any questions he’d ask about his sister. Pretending like I was checking on her, when I wasn’t, I kept things vague.

She is doing well with The Den. She gets along with the team. The front office loves her.

For most of this night, India and I covered my history, but I want to know more about hers. For five months, we’ve kept up the ruse of never having met or at least not knowing one another on a more intimate level, but the jig is up. Like a bat making contact with a hundred-mile-an-hour pitch—thwack!—I’m thunderstruck again by India Baker.

And I want to know what happened with Malakai? Did he hurt her? Did he break her heart?

Isaiah has also kept details about his sister surface level over the years.

“I didn’t intend to keep it from you,” I say, adding another lie to the growing mound. “I just didn’t . . .”

What? Want to share my transgression with his sister? Explain a meaningful tryst to my best friend? Tell him how being with India wrecked me in the best way, and how I blew any chance I had.

Isaiah doesn’t question me further, and I assume he’s fallen back to sleep. Maybe he’ll forget this after-midnight conversation happened as well as everything else he’s said tonight.

Are you two sleeping together again?

Could it happen again?

“You didn’t mean for it to happen,” Isaiah eventually states, startling me once more with the edge in his tone. His anger as if I would to have thought such a thing, when I don’t regret one second of that week together.

“That is not what I was going to say.”

“Then, you talk to me,” he snips, a little louder, repeating my words to him. “She’s my sister.”

“I know,” I breathe out, frustrated by the simple truth. India is my best friend’s younger sister. The age gap doesn’t matter. It’s the years that have passed that do.

“While I see some issues here . . .” Isaiah sighs. “You’re both adults. Consenting ones. And I want each of you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” I snap, a little harsher than necessary.

“Are you?” Isaiah asks.

Is she? I want to counter but instead, I ask a more pressing question. “Are you?” Because something is definitely up with my best friend.

He flops to his back, mirroring my position, face toward the ceiling. “I don’t know.” He blows out a breath.

The silence that follows, dismissing any potential explanation, causes me to almost hear the gears churning in his head.

There are so many more questions to ask. Is it Penn? The kids? His job? However, midnight musings are for the clear-minded, not drunk talk or hangover chats.

“Get more sleep, buddy,” I tell him. “We can talk more in the morning.”

Without another word, Isaiah rolls away from me again, and I stay on my bed, giving up the pull to move to the couch.

I’m safer in here.

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