Chapter Twenty-Three

David

My pulse races as the word ‘us’ leaves my mouth, and I hope Cat can’t hear the disappointment that’s like a rock sitting in my stomach.

For the last two weeks, Cat and I have been dancing around what happened at Bark In The Park, while the team has been running with the publicity.

The ‘kiss’, that’s burned in the back of my brain, went viral. Since then, spending all this time with her for pictures, and at home, has been a sweet form of torture—in the best possible way.

The photos leave me with no excuse but to give in to my desire to touch and hold her close.

But it’s not enough, I want more.

We need to talk. Really talk. About us. There’s that word again. But every time I go to bring it up, guilt rips through me, and I stop myself.

“We aren’t off the hook. They want us, too.

” My hand stops pushing the lace through the eyelet, the sounds of the locker room go silent, and I freeze.

Did I read the situation wrong? Does she not feel what I feel?

No…it’s not possible. “The images of Emmy and us are getting the most views on your page. So for now, you’re stuck with me. ”

“What if I like being stuck with you?” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

A locker slams in the background, and one of the guys’ laughs seems abnormally loud.

I hold my breath waiting for her response, my heart bouncing off my ribcage.

I pull the phone from my ear to see if the call is still connected.

Her silence is deafening.

“Do you?” She asks so softly, I’m wondering if I imagined it.

“I—”

“Cat,” Hope’s voice calls out. “Travis needs to see you.”

“David, I have to go. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Three beeps sound as the call ends, and I stare at the phone before putting it down on the bench beside me.

“Did Emmy strike again?” Hanson chuckles, slapping me on the arm. “She’s lucky she’s so cute.”

“You’re not kidding!” I grumble, pulling the last lace through and dropping the cleat to the floor.

I need to remember to pick up some more laces to have in my duffel.

If this were any other situation, three times would be the charm.

But Emmy doesn’t go by rules or old sayings, so I’m sure there will be a fourth, fifth, and maybe a sixth. “Check this out.”

I grab my phone and pull up Cat’s text, showing him the photo she sent of the jersey the team bought.

“Wait, is she getting her own social media account?” The look I give him has him raising his hands. “You do know there’s a poll to make her the new mascot…”

“I didn’t, but then I’d have to be following the team’s account to have that information,” I retort, bending down to slip my foot in my cleat and pull the laces together before tying.

Hanson snorts. “You really are a dinosaur!”

“No.” I tap his leg. “I just like living in the real world.”

His laughter trails behind him as he walks away, and my lips twitch.

I see the benefits of social media, but I don’t need to like it. It reminds me of my mom when she would make us pose for pictures at every event or holiday. Except with the internet, we are now posing 24/7, and I hate it.

But I don’t hate Cat telling me her ideas or when she’s the one taking the pictures. She’s the best part of this nightmare.

“James,” Logan plops down on the bench next to me, pulling my attention to him. “How’s married life treating you?”

“Haven’t you been stalking my social media?” I stand up from the bench and shove my duffel in my locker. A full-blown grin on my face.

“I’ve liked all of your posts,” he snickers. “And I’ve even commented on a few.”

I dip my chin. “Looks like you’re caught up then.”

“But seriously,” he pins me with his gaze. “How are you doing?”

I chew on my bottom lip, trying to figure out how much to say. He doesn’t know about my arrangement with Cat, but he’s known me long enough to recognize that something’s off. Should I give him the same answer I’m giving myself?

“It’s good,” I hear myself say. Yup. The same thing I’m telling myself. And it’s the truth. But I know things could be so much better.

I think I need to suck it up and call my best friend. She would understand better than anyone what I’m going through. I lost my wife, but she lost her twin sister.

When I look up, he’s still watching me, his eyes questioning. My stomach clenches, waiting to see what he does.

“It is.” I give him a stiff smile and see the moment his eyes narrow. He nods, not believing a word I just said, but willing to participate in whatever game I’m playing.

Sorry, Logan, but if I can’t explain this to myself, I can’t explain it to you.

“How are things with Hope?” I ask, curious about something Cat mentioned. His eyes widen for a brief second before he schools his features.

Yup. He likes her. Cat’s suspicions are spot on. ‘Just friends’ my—

“Last time we talked, she was good.” Logan gives me his ‘got-nothing-on-me’ grin before heading over to his space and grabbing his glove. Following suit, I grab my glove and walk with the rest of the guys out to the field for practice.

Practice was a disaster.

I’m not sure how many balls bounced past or under my glove, or how frequently I overthrew the ball and missed my target. And please, let’s not talk about batting practice.

“Still sticking with ‘it’s good’?” Logan mumbles as I walk past him in the dugout, taking off my helmet.

“That’s not what this is,” I grumble, glowering at him, scrubbing a hand up and down my face.

“Sure.” He laughs, my fist clenching in response. But he’s not wrong, and I know it.

It’s becoming clear that my emotions are interfering with my game…again. The last time this happened to me was when I found out Fiona was sick, and then after she passed away.

I need to figure this out, or I won’t have a career to save.

A clinking noise from out in centerfield reaches me as the gate opens. I glance up to see Cat’s team setting up for the ‘Meet and Greet’, and I feel my shoulders relax. A feeling of calm washing over me.

The guys around me are packing up and heading back into the locker room to shower before we start. But I can’t make myself look away from the setup crew, because maybe, just maybe, Cat will join them.

My patience is rewarded when she walks through the gate with Hope. My pulse skips watching her just as the familiar pang of guilt sucker punches me.

A locker slams, and I glance over to find Logan still in the dugout with me. He dips his chin before heading to the clubhouse.

Taking one last look at Cat, I follow him.

Thirty minutes later, I’m sitting at the team table, wearing a Smokies hoodie, and running a hand through my damp hair. A line of fans is waiting to meet us, and the hum of excitement vibrates through the air.

Except my insides feel like they’re being run through a grinder. Lifting a hand to my chest, I attempt to rub the burning away. Cat catches my eye, and her brow furrows.

“Are you okay?” She mouths, and I scoff before nodding, forcing a smile.

Her brows are still pulled together, and worry lines her forehead, but we both know now isn’t the time to talk. She stiffly nods before going over to the line of people.

“Hey, everyone. We’re so excited to have you here.

I know the players are thrilled to have an opportunity to meet with their fans,” Cat’s excited voice booms and reaches the table easily.

She points to Hope before continuing on.

“Just follow Hope, and she’ll make sure you get where you need to go.

And don’t worry, you’ll have every opportunity to meet up with Evan Hanson, Justin Ingram, Logan Miles, and David James. Are you ready?”

“Yes,” the crowd yells back.

“Perfect! Let’s get this party started!”

Excited chatter makes its way to us as the crowd nears the table. Hope sorts all the fans into lines, getting them set up by who they want to see first. She explains that once they’re done they can hop on one of the other players lines.

The tightness in my chest eases as the first person walks up to me, and a real smile crosses my face as I watch the young child hugging his father’s leg.

The kids make what I do so much fun, and it’s endearing to see them excited about meeting me. I’m pretty certain it’s a feeling that will never fade.

“Hey there.” I smile at the boy, and he shyly looks up. “I’m David. What’s your name?”

“Why don’t you tell him your name?” His dad says, running a hand over his hair. “I’m sure he’d love to know he’s your favorite player.”

“Only because of Emmy,” the boy says in the same stage whisper Scarlett uses, and I can’t help but laugh.

“I’m so sorry!” The dad replies mortified, reaching out his hand to me. “I’m Steven, and this is my son. He really is a huge fan,” he whispers behind his hand, his ears turning pink.

“It’s okay, I have an outspoken daughter. I get it.” My smile widens as I see the young boy peek over at me before looking around. “Sorry, bud, Emmy isn’t here today.”

I turn my gaze to the photos in front of me and snicker.

There’s a picture of Emmy prancing around the field like she owns it during Bark At The Park.

Wonder if they’d be willing to let her take my place.

“But it looks like there’s a photo of her.

Do you want me to sign that one for you?

” Without looking at me, he nods his head.

“You got it. Does this one work for you?” I ask his dad, pointing to a picture of me up at bat.

“That’s great.” He beams, relief etching his forehead.

“Here you go. Hope to see you at one of our home games.”

“Thanks again.” I watch the man try to walk with his son clinging to his leg before he just picks him up and walks off.

“Cat,” I call before greeting the next person in line. She smiles and makes her way over to me.

“Hi there,” she says to the person waiting. I point to the photo of Emmy. She snorts, resting a hand on my shoulder and murmurs, “Well, aren’t they pulling out all the stops?”

“Thanks for coming. Hope to see you at the next home game.” Turning my gaze to Cat, grinning, I ask, “You didn’t know about this?”

“Regardless of what you believe, I don’t know everything that’s happening. I just organize the events.” She says over my shoulder, her floral perfume wrapping around me. “I’d like one of those signed, please.”

“Anything for you, dear wife,” I say softly, taking advantage of the fact that we’re in public. As I watch her eyes soften, the tension that’s been holding me hostage eases.

And in that moment, I know I really do mean anything .