The Rival: A Washington Rampage Sports Romance

by Megan Green

  “Oh, right, ‘other plans,’” he says, putting air quotes around the last two words. “Other plans that I’m sure have nothing to do with a beautiful brunette and a bed and blowing off your buddies.”

  “That was a lot of Bs,” Tag says, coming up to stand beside Brandon.

  “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. The best things start with B. And, if they’re lucky, they finish with B, too,” Brandon says, waggling his eyebrows.

  I groan at the same time Tag reaches out and smacks B upside the head.

  “I pray for your child if it’s a boy. Even more so if it’s a girl.”

  Brandon scoffs. “Oh, please. You know I’m going to be the best dad that kid could ever ask for. Whenever Lexi gets knocked up, your kid will be jealous he doesn’t have a dad as cool as me.”

  I laugh as the two of them dissolve into an argument about which of them will be the cooler father. They’ve been best friends as long as they’ve both been in the league, and watching the two of them bicker sometimes reminds me of my granny and her bridge partner. I still have no clue why they decided to bring me into their fold when I joined the team, but I’m sure as fuck glad they did.

  Even if Jeffers is a pain in the ass ninety-nine percent of the time.

  Brandon has just launched into all the ways his child’s first birthday party will be better than Tag’s kid’s when I clear my throat and stand up.

  “As much as I’d love to stay and chat—or referee—I’ve got someplace I need to be.” I clap the two of them on their shoulders as I push past them.

  Brandon laughs as I walk toward the door. “Give Avery our love. And by our love, I mean, do that thing I told you about last week. You know, with the tongue.”

  His tongue slips past his lips as he begins to make a lewd gesture. Tag is right there though, slugging him hard in the arm.

  “Brandon! Boundaries, man. Come on!”

  “What? Don’t tell me Lexi didn’t like when you tried it on her…”

  I shake my head as I leave the locker room, their voices trailing off as the door swings shut behind me.

  I’ve loved spending all my free time with Avery lately, but fuck if I don’t miss those guys. I’m going to have to take them up on that drink soon.

  But, for now, I’ve got a promise I need to fulfill.

  Chapter 22

  Avery

  The other side of the bed is cold and empty as I wake three days later. Reaching out my hand, I’m met with only the feel of the cool, crisp sheets, and my heart sinks. Cracking open my eyes, I survey the empty space, wondering how long he’s been gone and wondering why he left without saying good-bye.

  When my eyes land on a small, folded sheet of paper that must’ve slipped off his pillow and caught between his and mine, my brow wrinkles in confusion. Grabbing the note, I open it, and a smile instantly spreads across my face.

  You looked so peaceful; I couldn’t bring myself to wake you.

  I’ll FaceTime you as soon as I get to the hotel this evening.

  Text me when you wake.

  I love you.

  —C

  The Rampage had two more games against the Larks in the last few days, and immediately after that stand wrapped up, they were scheduled to fly out to Colorado for a weeklong stint on the road. Carter came home after their win last night and instantly passed out, only having about six hours before he had to be up to catch his flight.

  I didn’t blame him for being tired. Despite that first game, the Larks put up quite a fight in their last two face-offs, and the Rampage struggled for each of those victories. Lucky for me, seeing Miles each time he took the mound only seemed to get easier and easier, so I was there to cheer along my guy and his team the whole way.

  Something that didn’t escape Miles’s notice, judging from the way he eyed me in the stands every now and again as the games progressed.

  The Rampage might have had a hard time beating the Larks as a whole, but Carter didn’t once waver in his newfound confidence against Miles. Each time he stepped up to the plate, Carter anticipated his every move and struck him out. Miles only managed to make contact with the ball one time, and it popped foul into the stands along the third base line. Other than that, Carter completely shut him down.

  Pitchers were notoriously bad hitters, but Miles has always been an exception to that rule. At least when it came to batting against Carter. So, to see Carter strike him out over and over again was intensely satisfying. And not because of my past with Miles. But because I loved seeing Carter finally believe in himself enough to beat him.

  He’s always had the tools to do it. He just lacked the assurance. But I think it’s safe to say that Carter has once and for all come into his own. And there’s nothing that’s going to stand in his way.

  Me, on the other hand…

  If the last few days have shown me anything, it’s that life with Carter is so much more than I could’ve ever expected it to be. I’m not so sure I can go back to not seeing him almost every day.

  And that’s a problem. Because his life is here, in Seattle. And mine is waiting for me back in Stetson.

  I love my job back home. I love my friends. I love being so close to my parents.

  Could I really give all that up to move out here and be with Carter?

  Yes.

  The answer is so simple, so completely obvious that I don’t even have to deliberate.

  I love my job, my friends, my family…

  But I love Carter more.

  I can’t go back to life without him, something I know my parents will understand. After all, my mother followed my father off to college in Wyoming when she was just eighteen years old, leaving behind everything she’d ever known to be with the man she loved. She’ll understand that giving up those few extra Sunday dinners will be worth it to be with the man who loves me just as much as Daddy loves her.

  Besides, my parents would love Seattle. Maybe, after Daddy retires, I can convince the two of them to leave behind the small-town life and move out here, to the city.

  Maybe a few grandchildren might help persuade them…

  Aaand, now, I’m envisioning mini Carters and tiny Averys running around this expensive apartment, their dirty, sticky fingers destroying all the hard work Carter’s designer did to make this place so beautiful.

  No, if we’re going to have kids, then we’re going to have to move to a house with a yard.

  Is there such a thing as the suburbs in Seattle? I wonder as I start dreaming up baby names.

  My phone pings with a text, pulling me from my dreams of the future and back to the present. I grin sheepishly, like I’ve just been caught doing something I shouldn’t, and grab my phone. I expect to see Carter’s name on the screen, his ears burning as I plan out our entire future here, in our bed.

  Why, yes, Carter, I have decided we’re going to have three kids: Eli, Lucy, and CJ—short for Carter Junior, of course. And we’re going to move to the suburbs. How do you feel about golden retrievers? I think a golden retriever named Murphy will be the final link to tie our little family together.

  However, it’s not Carter’s name I see illuminating my screen when I finally lift my phone to read the text message. Though this man and I once had a similar conversation once.

  “What do you think about the name Claire for a little girl?” I asked, looking up from the bridal magazine I’d been paging through. I’d just finished reading an article on expectant brides, and it had set my brain spinning on the possibility of baby names.

  Miles shrugged. “Sounds like something you’d call your grandma.”

  I pursed my lips. Claire was a classic name. Beautiful. Strong. Something our future daughter wouldn’t be embarrassed by at thirty when she went in for a job interview and didn’t have to tell her potential boss her name was Stormi Rainn Johnson.

  “How about Sophie?” I asked, trying to keep my classic-name thing going.

  Miles shrugged. “Pretty sure I had a dog named Sophie o
nce. Why are we even talking about this now? Isn’t it a little soon to start talking about kids?”

  He was right, of course. We weren’t even married yet. But I’d always wanted a family of my own, and I was ready to start trying just as soon as we said I do.

  And then Miles said something that completely turned my world upside down, “Besides, I’m not even sure I want kids.”

  I shake off the memory, still unable to believe how I completely misread him from the beginning. After he said those words, I told myself he was just getting nervous about the wedding, of all the changes that were going to be happening soon. Of course, he got a little apprehensive when I brought up kids. He’d come around. I was sure of it.

  Looking back, I realize now that I should’ve seen it as the first sign that there was something fundamentally wrong with our relationship. Not that not wanting kids is a bad thing. I’m a firm believer that every couple is different and has to make the best choice for them. But, when kids are something I want so desperately, it was a little alarming to hear the man I was supposed to be marrying wasn’t sure if he wanted them at all.

  Yet another bullet I dodged by Miles’s decision to cheat on me. I mean, at this point, I should probably write him a thank-you note or something.

  That again brings me back to the present and the fact that the last name I ever expected to see on my phone again is currently staring me in the face.

  With a reluctant finger, I click on the message, opening the screen so that I can read it completely.

  MILES: I’m still in town for a couple of days. I’d really like to see you if you’re free.

  Has he gone mental? Why on God’s green earth would he think I’d ever want to see him?

  I briefly debate on just deleting the message and pretending it never happened, but curiosity wins out.

  ME: What do you want, Miles?

  MILES: To see you. Just for a few minutes, Avery.

  I shake my head. I don’t know what game he’s playing at here, but it’s not going to work.

  ME: Sorry, not happening.

  MILES: Please, Avie. Just give me a chance to apologize.

  This causes a loud laugh to rip straight from my throat, a very unladylike snort accompanying it.

  He wants to apologize? Oh, that’s rich.

  With another shake of my head, I type out a response I hope will finally put an end to this conversation.

  ME: Fine, apology accepted. Good-bye, Miles.

  MILES: Please. I need to do this. My therapist says it’ll help me get closure.

  His words bring me up short, all the humor I was feeling a moment ago vanishing with the use of one word.

  Miles is seeing a therapist?

  Miles, the man who said talking was for women and feelings were for pansies, is actually seeing a therapist?

  I type out the thought and hit Send.

  MILES: Yes. After everything that happened, I realized I needed help. It’s been…tough, Avie. I know you don’t owe me anything, not after what I did, but if you ever loved me, please, meet me. Let me close the door on our relationship once and for all.

  His words are so similar to the thoughts I had before the baseball game. I can’t help but feel a small kinship with him.

  I’ve moved on. I’ve found love, a love so much greater than anything I could’ve ever experienced with Miles. The door on my past with Miles is not only closed; it’s welded shut.

  Could I spare a few minutes of my time to help him achieve the same thing?

  Something inside me says no. To just tell him to go to hell and let him deal with his problems on his own. After all, this was all his doing in the first place. Had he just been able to keep his dick in his pants, I’d likely still be in Stetson, preparing for our wedding that was supposed to take place in just a few weeks, still blind to the love I’d always held for Carter.

  But the other part of me, the bigger part, tells me I can’t knowingly let him continue to struggle. Not even after what he did to me. If there’s some small way I can help, I have to do it.

  I wouldn’t be able to live with myself otherwise.

  I might not have loved Miles, not in the way I thought I did.

  But I still cared for him.

  And I’ve never been one to turn my back on someone in need.

  With a deep breath, I hold up my phone and type out my response.

  ME: Okay, meet me at The Tower at seven.

  MILES: Thank you, Avie.

  I’m about to lock my phone and go jump in the shower when one final warning comes to mind.

  ME: And, Miles…

  MILES: Yeah?

  ME: Don’t make me regret this.

  But something tells me I already should.

  Chapter 23

  Carter

  Sixteen Months Earlier

  The day I’d left my hometown, I had sworn, I’d never come back.

  Not unless she was the reason I was there.

  Yet here I was, a year and a half later, sitting in the front row of the auditorium of my old high school, surrounded by dozens of my family and friends and quite a few others who were only there to be able to say they were.

  Avery sat to my right, her left hand reaching out to squeeze my leg in excitement when the big projection screen lit up, indicating it was about to start.

  It should be the best day of my entire life. After all my hard work, I was finally going to be drafted into the Major League.

  It wasn’t a matter of if I’d go; it was a matter of when I’d go.

  I was predicted to be selected in the top ten picks, and I’d had meetings and sit-downs with multiple teams all across the country.

  I would be ecstatic to go to any team, but if I were being honest, I had my heart set on the Rampage. I’d spent the last few years watching them grow and come together as a team, and I just knew I was the missing piece they needed to finally seal their place in the playoffs.

  I’d met with the Rampage team owners and GM earlier in the month, and it had gone so well; I was certain I was going to get my wish.

  So, like I said, it should be the greatest night of my life. Avery by my side, all my wildest dreams about to become a reality…

  But then a large hand came into view on Avery’s right side, linking its fingers with hers.

  Miles fucking Johnson.

  As if it wasn’t bad enough that I’d had to come back to this godforsaken place, I had to share this night with that son of a bitch.

  Because, apparently, having two first-round draft picks from the same county was cause for celebration.

  Whatever. At least we were on my turf. I’d won that battle. I wasn’t about to sit in my old high school rival’s auditorium to hear the news that would change my life.

  Miles had already won the biggest prize. He owed me this much at least.

  Avery beamed at Miles as he squeezed her hand, her own fingers leaving my leg to reach up and cup his face.

  “Are you nervous?” I heard her whisper.

  “A little,” he admitted.

  The sound of those words made me feel infinitely better. Miles had seemed cool as a cucumber all night long, so to hear the trepidation in his voice was reassuring. I’d been starting to think I was the only one about to lose my shit.

  Not that I would ever tell that asshole that we had something in common.

  “Don’t be. It’s going to be great. You’re going to be amazing. You both are,” she tacked on at the end, turning her attention back to me and giving me a winning smile.

  And I couldn’t help but smile back. Because, despite how much it hurt me to see her here with him, she was still Avery. She still had the power to stop my heart with a single look, and no matter what happened in the future, I knew one thing would never change.

  I would always love her.

  The entire room erupted then, bringing my attention from Avery’s face back to the screen at the front of the room. The first pick was in, and even though I knew there was no way I was
going to go first, my breath caught in my chest as I waited for the announcement.

  “With the first pick in the 2017 draft, the Colorado Smoke selects Jeffrey Elliott.”

  All the air rushed out of my lungs at the sound of his name. We’d all expected Elliott to go first. The guy had future Brandon Jeffers written all over him, his batting average out of this world and his outfield game strong as hell.

  There’d been a part of me, however—a part I would deny until my dying day—that was worried Johnson might go first. And, as petty as it sounded, I just didn’t think I could deal with that. The asshole was unbearable on the best of days. Going first overall in the draft would’ve been something he’d never let me forget.

  Not like I would’ve been able to anyway…but still.

  The next two picks went quickly, some of the tension in my body releasing after we got that first one out of the way.

  When the Wyoming GM walked up to the podium, I heard a collective silence envelop the room. Everybody in attendance had made no secret of the fact that they would love to see one of the hometown boys stay local and do their team proud.

  I was ninety-nine percent certain that it wasn’t going to happen, my future with the Rampage practically written in stone and Johnson most likely heading to Phoenix. I’d heard they’d flown him out several times for practice with the team, and Miles had been pretty vocal in his excitement about their team earlier in the evening.

  The familiar face of the Wyoming Larks cleared his throat, bringing my focus back to the scene in front of me.

  “With the fourth pick in the 2017 draft, the Wyoming Larks selects…Miles Johnson.”