Page 167 of Hiding in the Outfield

As long as we’re together, everything will be okay.

I raise my voice. “Do me a favor, guys?”

A chorus of yeses greets me.

“Hug him tight for me, yeah?”

The screen spins, and when it stabilizes, I can just make out the guys in a cuddle-puddle on Frankie from where the phone landed on the bed.

My chest softens. At least I know he’s well taken care of until he gets back to me.

Then I’ll take over.

Soon.

FIFTY-SEVEN

FRANKIE

It’s been a whirlwind of a month. I fold another sweater and place it in my closet. After my last day at work, I flew out to San Francisco—and the house-hunting started. Amy and Alana were a huge help with determining prime locations.

My parents flew out and helped me tour apartments and condos. We are going to rent for now. It’s still too unpredictable to set down permanent roots. Jackson left it all in my hands, being way too busy with baseball. His only requirement: me being there.

We settled on renting a condo in a complex with a few of the younger guys on the team who haven’t purchased houses yet.

I glance around at the boxes surrounding me and let out a sigh. It’s official. Moving sucks. I have no idea how I accumulated so much shit. I mean, not the clothes; my clothes are amazing. I just can’t get over the sheer volume of boxes I have to unpack. And that’s without considering the furniture. We decided it made sense to leave the furniture at my townhouse. I’ll sell it or give it away when my lease is up. At this point, Jackson has made enough money to comfortably afford to furnish this place.

Which means Frankie gets to go shoppinggg.

A knock echoes from downstairs, and I frown. It could be Jess or Mya, girlfriends of a couple of the players. I check my phone. 2 p.m. No, they’d be at work. Like I would be if I had a job.

A weight settles in my chest, and I stand. I have a few interviews scheduled in the coming weeks. I think I’ll feel better once I’m working again. I really miss it. I miss my pretty spreadsheets. I miss my clients. I miss Gen. Well, I still see Gen. But I miss bitching about work with her. It has been such a boon being able to see her so often.

It was terrifying moving out to San Francisco, leaving everything I’ve known for twenty-eight years behind. I wasn’t prepared for the rightness that would settle over me once we found a place together. I have my boyfriend. I have my best friend. I have a new BDE family who we fell into seamlessly.

Oh, and another boon—I passed my fucking exam. My fingers spin the large diamond studs in my ears. My present from Jackson for passing. Frankie is very sparkly now.

I hurry down the stairs just as another knock rings out. It’s a firm, commanding knock. I peer through the peephole and jerk back. What the hell?

I pull the door open and stare blankly at the sexy, silver-templed man in a suit standing on my doorstep. “Kieran?”

What the hell is Gen’s…whatever he is…doing here?

“Francesco. May I come in?”

I shiver at his deep tone. I swear everything the guy says comes out like a growl. I really don’t blame Gen at all. I am also greatly regretting my outfit choice. I’m in one of Jackson’s shirts and a pair of his sweats. I literally look like a saggy, baggy elephant.

“Of course.” I step back and wave him inside. “I apologize, still in the middle of getting settled. Can I grab you something to drink?”

“Water, please.”

I lead him into the open-concept kitchen. It’s all whites and grays, with a white quartz countertop. At some point, I’ll decide on how I want to add some color in here. I stop at our Sub-Zero fridge. “Sparkling or regular?”

“Regular is fine.” He settles onto a barstool.

“I apologize for…” I sweep a hand down me.

He waves me off. “I was unannounced. That’s on me.”