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Spitfire: Like I’d miss the chance to brag that I know a major league baseball player ;)
Hotshot: At least for a few games.
Spitfire: It’ll be more than that. I might not know all the logistics that go into you staying in a Sharks uniform, but I know they’d be fools to drop you back to AAA.
Watching my text pop up in our thread, my fingers start typing before I can stop them.
Spitfire: So you and Palmer are back together?
He doesn’t respond. I shouldn’t have asked. I just made this weird. Even though my phone never buzzes, I keep tapping my screen to see if I missed his text. A solid five minutes pass, and I peel myself off my bed and into my bathroom to wash up. Another five minutes and a text notification finally pops up while I’m brushing my teeth.
Hotshot: We reconnected back in February. She needed a safe place to land, then one thing led to another… It just felt like we should give it another shot.
Gut punch.
Hotshot: I never heard back from you Nova.
His words strike like a jagged bolt of lightning to my chest. He didn’t. I know. And I don’t have a leg to stand on. I told him not to wait around for me. I didn’t know when I’d be ready for this. And maybe there’s a reason. Maybe we’re just not meant to be.
Spitfire: Yeah, no. It’s great. That’s great. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy for you Dev. That’s all I want for you.
* * *
DEVIN
Her text settles in my gut. The cursor blinks. My fingers are still. My reply remains empty. What in the hell am I supposed to say? Nova Pratt has been…Dammit.I live with another woman. What Nova was or is doesn’t matter.
Hotshot: Same goes for you. But yeah I’m happy.
I lock my screen and pocket my phone, exiting the bathroom where I’ve been hiding. Palmer’s on the couch in the living area of my two-room suite. She points to the floor between her legs. “Come and sit. I’ll give you a massage.”
Positioning my back against the base of the couch, her hands work my neck and shoulder muscles. I’m really wound up tight tonight, so I wince when she hits a knot.
“Sorry.” She lightens the pressure. “So, I think I’m going to get a job, at least something temporary.”
“There’s every chance we may only be here for two months, Palmer.”
“I know, but it’ll give me something to do while you’re playing and training and dealing with the press conferences and what not. I love watching your games, but I think I need something for myself, too. And I don’t want to mooch off of your salary. You know that’s not me.”
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know. Look for a serving job or bartending gig. I’m sure I can find something close by.”
I twist my head, kissing the top of her hand resting on my shoulder. “I’ll support whatever you want to do.”
thirty | devin
Since arriving in Miami,I’ve struggled to stick to a game-day regimen. Routine was easy in New York last weekend. Even with everyone flying in for my debut, I stuck to the schedule that got me here. Since landing in Miami in the early hours of Tuesday morning, I’ve felt off. Especially when it comes to working in time with Palmer. She’s not needy. I just feel guilty. And as of last night, my guilt’s grown two-fold. With the shower running in the bedroom, I pick up my phone.
Willa answers my call on the last ring. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No, Archer is driving Mom and me to the airport. We’re on our way to see some big leaguer play and spend the weekend celebrating his twenty-fourth birthday. What’s up?”
I wish I could laugh, but all that comes out is, “Nova’s here.”
“I’m sorry?”
“In Miami. She moved here for a job at my agency. Apparently, her cousin works there.”Small freaking world.
