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Prologue
Sometimes an entire fucking cake is exactly what you need.
-Lock’s secret thoughts
Lock
“Come on, hurry up,” I rushed my sister. “We’re going to miss the first pitch.”
Ares sighed, long and loud.
“I don’t even know why you made me come to this,” she muttered.
“Because you like baseball,” I told her bluntly.
“I like baseball,” she agreed. “I don’t like this team.”
That was true.
Ares loved the Longview Lumberjacks, who were playing today. But she despised the other team—mainly her ex-boyfriend turned professional baseball player, Ryan McMillan.
I’d once liked Ryan, thinking he was a great guy and perfect for my sister. Then he’d gotten a big head while in college, which had turned into an even bigger head when he was picked up by the minor league team for the Devil Rays.
Needless to say, I was clearly feeling the same afflictions that Ares was feeling.
On one hand, I would’ve loved—loved—to go to this game by myself. But I knew, despite seeing Ryan, she’d have a great time.
“They’re taking the field,” I said, eyes ahead of me. “Hurry.”
I think a lot of Ares’ reluctance stemmed from the fact that we had front row seats, right behind the plate. That would mean that Ryan would have no choice but to look at her.
And I knew that he’d see her.
Ryan always saw her.
My eyes were now so focused on our seats that whensheturned around, I nearly went sailing straight down the steps and straight onto my face.
Luckily, my sister broke my fall.
“Jesus Christ,” Ares said. “I said I was hurrying.”
She was.
Ares had on a pair of high heels that made her legs look like they came up to her neck. And since she didn’t wear high heels all that often, she was having trouble walking in them.
Again, the heels were for Ryan’s benefit.
“Sorry,” I lied. “Tripped.”
Ares huffed something underneath her breath and went back to walking—awfully, might I add—and by the time we arrived at our seats the first two outs had been made.
I watchedherthe entire time I walked, and the closer I got, the more my heart started to pound.
She was sitting in her chair, her feet up in the seat and her arms around her upraised knees, and her eyes were now straight ahead, watching the game.
She was beautiful—at least what I could see of her seeing as she was in a protective ball.
She had long, curly black hair that was in a wild disarray all around her shoulders. It cascaded down her back and into the seat. It was also falling behind the seat and tangling with the woman’s sandals in the seat behind her.
