“Alone? I think not. We were supposed to do it together.”
“Does it matter? I’m still here. I have a job in town—well, twenty minutes away, but it’s still considered local. I’m not going anywhere, Coby. If you need me, I’ll be there for you. Always.”
“Yeah, until you get married and then move out.” I needed a reprieve from her lecture. Nothing she said was wrong, but right now, it was the last thing I wanted to hear. “Speaking of getting married…heard anything from Milli Vanilli?”
She went silent yet continued to massage my shoulder. Ellie didn’t care to talk about Ryan, just as I would’ve liked to avoid all talk regarding the future. If I had my way, I’d live in the moment, right here with my best friend, but she didn’t let me do that, so I wasn’t going to let her off the hook, either. Not to mention, if it got her off my case about baseball and the funk I’d fallen into, then all’s fair in…baseball and exes.
“Nothing. Then again, he’d be stupid to try to contact me.”
“What happened? You never did tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell. We wanted different things, and we both went about getting them in a different way. No point in staying together if we couldn’t be on the same page. It happens, I guess.” It was a lie, but I’d have to accept it as the truth.
I’d assumed something had happened as soon as she came back from his house—the bruises on her arm were proof of that. However, she refused to talk about it then, or any other time since. I’d asked a few times, but I never got more than “nothing happened.”
“So who do you think ‘A’ is?” she asked, deflecting once more. I’d let her, simply because I understood what it was like not to want to talk about something. I’d done it to her minutes earlier, and now she was doing the same, except this time, rather than turn the tables back on me, she moved our conversation along to the TV.
“No one you’ll ever guess.”
“What does that mean?”
Over the last month, we’d been watching a series on Netflix she picked out. I didn’t care for it, but she was interested in the stupid show, so it became our thing. “This thing drags out for like fifty seasons. If you think it’s anyone you suspect now, you’re clearly wrong.”
“You never know. I think it’s the neighbor—the peeping Tom.”
“‘A’ isn’t a guy.”
Her fingers slowed. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I Googled it.”
“What?” she shrieked. “Why would you do that?”
Not taking my eyes off the TV, I deadpanned, “The suspense was killing me.”
“Then who is it?”
“Someone you’ll never guess. I’m fairly certain they just made someone up at the end.”
“You suck.” She stopped the massage that had my entire body relaxed and moved next to me to settle against the pillows in the middle of the bed. “Now there’s no point in watching it anymore.”
“So I can change it?”
“Not yet. I still have no idea who ‘A’ is.”
“If I tell you, will you let me change it?”
In a move so fast I barely saw it, Ellie snatched the remote away. “Not a chance. You’ll just make me watch one of those lame-ass superhero shows with horrible special effects, and I’ve seen all the action movies I can stand for one summer. No thank you.”
“Yeah, because this is so much better.”
“If you don’t like it, go somewhere else.”
I narrowed my gaze at her and blinked incessantly, even though she never turned my way. “This is my room, woman!”
“And your point is? I’m not kicking you out. If you leave, it’ll be of your own free will.”
With a huff, I threw myself back, landing in a heap of feather pillows. And that’s exactly where I stayed, with Ellie beside me and her stupid show in front of me. Honestly, there wasn’t anywhere else I’d rather be.
We both must’ve fallen asleep, because the next time I opened my eyes, the room was pitch black, and Ellie was slipping out of my bathroom. My heart thundered in my chest as I watched her tiptoe toward the bedroom door.
“Where are you going?” My voice was thick with sleep, gravelly and deep.
She stilled and craned her neck to look back at me. The moonlight from the window bathed her in a soft glow, making me take notice of her natural beauty more than I ever had before. “It’s three in the morning. I was going to my bed,” she whispered, as if trying not to wake anyone up.
I patted the bed. “Get back over here.”
For a second, it seemed as though she hesitated, like she had to contemplate sleeping next to me. Granted, we hadn’t shared a bed since last Thanksgiving, and the time before that had been years ago. But that shouldn’t have meant things had changed. We’d slept in the same bed more times than I could count, for as long as I could remember. Yet now that we were older—and especially since the night of the draft—it almost seemed wrong.
Finally, she padded across the room and climbed into bed. “Scoot over. You’re on my side.”
Without arguing, I did as I was told. She always took the spot on my left, although if I were alone in bed, that was the side I gravitated to. But for some reason, when we were together, it was hers. Always hers.
I extended my arm, and she fit it in the crook of her neck…like always. It made me lie back and stare at the shadows cast onto the ceiling by the spinning blades on the fan, pondering the habits we’d created together. Everything about us came so naturally, so easy and effortless. I couldn’t help but wonder why it was so difficult to find that with someone else, and then I began to speculate if I ever would. If I’d ever meet a woman who’d be able to give me what she could, yet in a romantic sense. In the forever sense. The kind of woman I could marry and spend the rest of my life with. That was the problem with having a best friend of the opposite sex—no one else would ever compare.
I rolled onto my side to see her, feeling the need to voice my uncertainties in the dark to the only person in the world I trusted with my fears; however, when I moved, my right hand landed on her lower stomach. Her shirt had ridden up just enough to feel the warmth of her skin beneath my touch, and it stole the air from the room, leaving me with nothing but her shaky exhale to breathe in.
“Ellie…” I whispered, unable to move.
She turned her head, our noses so close I could feel her breaths before I heard them. Except it was more than that. She also wrapped her long, thin fingers around my wrist, practically keeping my hand on her stomach while she remained on her back with my arm behind her neck.
Then, as if by magnetic force, our mouths connected. She shifted just enough to move my hand from her belly to her hip, while her touch drifted up my arm, over my shoulder, and down my chest. A fiery path blazed everywhere her fingers grazed until my dick was rock hard. But rather than assess the situation like I always did when I was with a woman, I allowed myself to feel every single second of it.
Her lips.
Her tongue.
Her hands on my skin.
Her body beneath mine.
Then there was her warmth. The tight heat that enveloped me and brought with it so much peace and contentment.
The way her gasps fanned against my face.
The slickness of her arousal.
The guttural moans reverberated from her chest.
The air around us was thick with ecstasy, and with every push, every pull, euphoria tightened in my gut. I could feel her everywhere, beneath me, inside me. And not once did I question any of it. Not once did I stop to think about the consequences or the tribulation the sun would bring once it rose above the horizon. All I could think about was how good it felt, how amazing she was, and how I wished it would never end.
But it did end.
And the sun did rise, alerting me to an empty bed.
I’d remained on the couch for most of the day, feeling like I’d been punched in the stomach. Ellie was gone by the time I’d g
otten up, and aside from a few texts, I hadn’t heard from her. Apparently, she had some errands she needed to run, swearing she’d told me about them. Yet if she had, I would’ve remembered. And I didn’t recall any mention of it.
My phone rang from the coffee table, dragging my attention from whatever was on the TV—I hadn’t watched any of it, not even aware if it was a movie or a show. The caller ID didn’t give me a number I recognized, so I hesitated a beat before deciding to answer.
“This is him,” I spoke absentmindedly into the speaker.
“Hi, Coby, this is Chuck Bridges with ESPN Sports. How are you doing?”
The hairs on my arms stood on end, and my spine immediately went ramrod straight. “I’m good. How are you?” I rolled my eyes at my response. The man didn’t call to chitchat.
“Very well, thanks for asking. Listen, I’m calling with a proposal we think you’d be interested in.” Then he went on about an anchor position on their network, offering me a job as a commentator for the MLB season.
“Do you need an answer now? Or can I think about it?”
“Oh, no. Definitely think about it and give me a call back. The sooner the better, though. We’d love to get you in before the season ends, and we’re hoping we’d have you here on the set for the playoffs. We think you’d be a great asset to our team, and the viewers love you. You’re America’s Prince Charming. The King of the Mound.”
It was obvious he was doing nothing except buttering me up. Little did he know, I wasn’t a biscuit. I’d been called everything under the sun from “the Diamond’s Comeback Kid” to “the Knight in Shining Arm-or.” Except they no longer worked. I was no longer royalty of any mound—in reference to baseball or the female kind. I clearly couldn’t come back from brachial plexus damage, and the arm that had gotten so much attention was now just a useless limb.
“Thank you very much, Chuck. I’ll get back to you in the next couple of days.”
Not more than sixty seconds after I disconnected the call, my doorbell rang. It wasn’t Ellie—considering she never rang the bell or even knocked—so I had no idea who would’ve been on my porch. In the years I’d lived here, no one other than my dad had come to see me while I was home. Anytime I’d hang out with one of the guys or go on a date, we’d meet up somewhere else. Thinking about that now made me realize how odd it was that I hadn’t ever invited anyone over, but I figured it had been my way of keeping Ellie from feeling uncomfortable in her own home.
Shrugging that thought off—refusing to spend another second obsessing over Ellie until we could talk about the unwanted Dumbo in the room—I clicked the monitor on the wall in the foyer to see who it was. Gage Nix’s goofy face filled the security screen. I swung open the door and cocked my head to the side, silently questioning his impromptu visit.
“Figured you’d need company.” He held up a twelve-pack of beer.
“You know I don’t drink that crap.”
“Maybe it’s time you start.”
I huffed a grumbled chuckle and stepped out of the way, inviting him in with an outstretched hand. “Really, Gage…what are you doing here? In the middle of the season, no less. Shouldn’t you be at practice or something?”
He followed me into the kitchen, where I set the beer in the fridge, each of us taking a can. “You didn’t hear?” he asked as if this news shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
“Hear what? And why would I have heard? I’m not in the League anymore, remember?”
“Oh, I remember. Kinda hard to forget when your best pitcher bails and you’re left with Booby the Newbie who wouldn’t even be able to strike you out.” He took a seat on the couch a few spots away from me and propped his feet on my coffee table, making himself at home as if he’d been here a hundred times.
“Hardy-har-har.” I took a swig, winced as the liquid burned my esophagus, and then set my can on the table in front of me. “Back to you being here…what should I have heard?”
“I got benched. Coach thought it was best if I didn’t come to practice today.”
Now that got my attention. “For what?”
“I thought that would’ve been a given.” When I did nothing but gape at him, waiting for a real answer, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “It seems I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut.”
I barked out a laugh, and I had to admit how good it felt. “This is nothing new, Gage.”
“Good point. Except do you remember how I said the new pitcher sucked ass?”
“How could I forget? You just said it like two seconds ago.”
“Just making sure you were paying attention. Anyway…I decided to tell him so.”
I waited for a moment, just in case he had more to add, but when he didn’t, I decided to pry. “You told Bobby he sucked? Why in the hell would you do that?”
Gage gawked at me like I had four heads coming off my shoulders. “Because he sucks. Geeze, Coby, I thought you remembered me telling you that. Where’s your head at these days?”
“No, I got that. I was there and had to watch him pitch my games. I’m just curious as to why you decided to let him in on it—aside from it being true.”
“I got tired of him trash talking you.”
As much as it pained me to admit it, hearing that hurt. A lot. I’d given that team my all, every piece of me. And to know someone in that uniform could kick me when I was already down bothered me, even if it was a new player who hadn’t shared the diamond with me.
“He got too big for his panties and thought we all owed him something.”
“For what?” I balked.
“For ‘saving our asses’ when you bailed.” He rolled his eyes but kept on. “He thinks we owe him something for being there in your absence. So, I wrote his stats next to yours on the locker room wall. When he asked why, I explained—in layman’s terms—that he hasn’t done us any service, and in fact, we would’ve been better off with no pitcher at all. He got all butthurt and said some shit, so I shut him up.”
“How’d you do that?”
“He had a hard time talking around the fist I planted in his big, fat mouth.”
My eyes nearly bulged out with as wide as they were. “You hit him?”
“That’s the story he’s going with.”
Confused, I held up one hand and gave myself a moment to compose my thoughts. “Wait…that’s his story? But not yours? Even though you just told me you punched him.”
“Yes.” He nodded, his expression remaining blank.
It was always so hard to read him. I’d once seen him tell Cason how he’d screwed his mom, offering vivid detail, all while wearing a straight face, capable of convincing us all that he was telling the truth. When Cason informed him that his mother was in her seventies and in a wheelchair from a stroke, Gage explained it had been years ago, that she had taken his virginity when he was fourteen. This man could lie to a nun and convince her that whatever came out of his mouth was the truth.
“I never said I punched him. I said I shut him up.”
“Yeah…with your fist in his mouth.”
“Semantics. I say I shut him up, because he didn’t have much to say after that.”
I dropped my head back and laughed, missing this so much it hurt.
“In all honesty,” he continued with more seriousness, “Coach asked me to come by and see how you’re doing. The team isn’t the same without you. Losing streak aside, we miss the unity you provided. Just having you there did something to the team morale, and it seems no one can fill those shoes. A pitcher has to trust his teammates—trust us to catch balls that had been hit—and that trust is no longer there. It’s damaging to everyone when that’s taken away.”
And there it was—the real reason he came over. He didn’t stop by to have a few beers with me or shoot the shit. He was here to check up on me, to make sure I was okay. “Well, you can run back to Daddy and tell him I’m fine. In fact, I just got a call from ESPN offering me a commentator position.”
“No shit,�
�� he blurted out with surprise in his airy tone. “What’d you tell them?”
“That I had to think about it.”
“Trying to play hard to get? As much as I love that game, you shouldn’t gamble with this opportunity. If you’d like, I could call them back for you and act as your agent. Now that I’m benched, and Coach thinks I’m a danger to Booby, I could totally be on your payroll.”
I laughed at his apparent disdain toward the new pitcher, finding comedy in his nickname, but I shook my head. “Nah. That’s all right. I’ll call them back when I have an answer. Right now, I’m enjoying spending time with Ellie. I only have about a month left before she’ll be busy again, and ever since we graduated from high school, we haven’t had much time to hang out. So I’m taking this chance while I have it.”
“Are you guys dating now? I thought she was with that UA loser?”
“No, we’re not dating. But she’s no longer with him, either. They broke up last month.”
He wagged his brows. “So she’s single?”
“Newly single,” I pointed out. “As in…not interested in you.”
“What’s there not to be interested in?” His brow pinched tight, the deepening lines showing his age. He wasn’t old by any means, but he had about six years on me, and with as much time as he’d spent in the sun his whole life, it aged him more than most. Gage had played ball since he could walk, so where the sun hadn’t done much to me in the few short years I’d spent playing the game, I couldn’t say the same for him. “Not to mention, newly single is my type. You know I don’t care for the relationship aspect.”
“You’re not going to chase my best friend’s skirt. Okay?”
Just then, the sound of the garage door opening echoed through the house. I set a pointed stare at Gage—we only had a minute before she came inside. But rather than take my silent threat seriously, he offered me a dramatic wink, and then stood as soon as the door into the kitchen from the garage creaked open.
“You must be Ellie,” he greeted with that sugary-sweet voice I’d heard him use on more women than I cared to recount. “I’ve heard so much about you from the one-hit wonder over here.”
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