Page 13

13

CREW

The past nine days had been emotional hell.

The uncertainty about whether I was the father or not was hard, and the unknown was something I’d always stressed about. While I was waiting to see what colleges wanted me, the anticipation nearly killed me. Same with being drafted into the majors. That same emotion was what I’d been feeling every day as I waited for the lab to tell me if I was the father.

I’d barely slept. Barely ate. Baseball was supposed to be my distraction—the place where I put everything into being the best ballplayer I could be—but even on the field, my head wasn’t completely there. I’d been having off games, thinking about my shit when I was behind the plate or up to bat. Maybe not every second, but it was consuming me, to say the least.

Singleton had been there through all of it, providing distractions , though none of them lasted long enough to ease my mind. Once we were done fucking, I was back in my head, thinking about how my condo might be filled with baby stuff soon. Or thinking about how the mother was in California and wondering how we’d make co-parenting work. Would I only see the kid in the offseason? I hated the thought because growing up, I’d longed to have my father around to play catch or come to my games. I’d wanted him to be present in my life and not just a once-a-day call to check in.

Singleton and I had just gotten back from a light workout at the ball field, trying to keep loose even on our day off. He was stretched out on my couch, scrolling through Netflix and trying to decide what to put on. “Nothing’s really jumping out at me.”

I handed him a beer and sat next to him on the couch. “Maybe if you didn’t take so long watching every trailer, you could have picked something by now.”

He shot me a look, lips twitching like he was trying to hold back a smile. “You got a better suggestion? How else am I supposed to know if we’d be interested?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, but choose something already.”

He huffed and kept scrolling, finally stopping on a movie and clicking the watch button without looking at the trailer. “Fine. This one looks good. You can’t blame me if you end up hating it.”

I raised an eyebrow but didn’t bother arguing. He’d already put the remote down and flopped back, clearly settling in.

“You ordering lunch or am I?” I asked.

In the month or so we’d been messing around, we’d somehow perfected a routine neither of us planned on. Singleton would show up at my place after practice or a game. He’d kick off his shoes and get comfy on my couch. Crazy enough, I found myself enjoying the way he seemed at ease in my space, and honestly, I didn’t mind being with him all the time.

I wasn’t supposed to be getting so comfortable with him. I wasn’t supposed to be looking forward to him walking through the door with that grin of his, like he’d already claimed a piece of me without asking. Yet here we were, ordering food, cracking open beers, laughing about nothing, our clothes often forgotten on the floor. Each time I turned around, I was reminded of the secret we were keeping. That no one— no one —knew what was really going on between us.

My feelings for Singleton were beginning to feel different now. He was officially on the team, so we didn’t have a ticking clock to worry about. The fact that he was here to stay had started to change how I looked at him, and I couldn’t help but feel like everything between us was on the verge of being more than just a secret. And maybe I was ready for it to not be so hush-hush.

It was only slightly different on the road. After a long day on the field, we’d retreat to my hotel room. We were careful about keeping it under wraps, even though the line between what we were doing and what we were pretending to do was starting to blur. It wasn’t only sexual anymore, at least for me.

“Your turn,” Singleton replied about lunch.

“All right.” I tapped out an order from a place we both liked. We had become so in sync that I didn’t even need to ask him what he wanted me to order for him.

He leaned his head back and let out a sigh. “Off days are nice.”

“You’re not the one who’s been playing like shit. I should still be at the field practicing.”

His gaze flicked over to me. “It’s only because you’ve been in your head.”

“Still feels like I’m just sitting here waiting to get bad news I didn’t ask for.”

He turned to face me fully. “I know that’s what it feels like, but no matter what happens, you’ll deal with it.”

I nodded once, because I wasn’t sure what else to do.

Then my phone vibrated.

I reached for it, expecting some random notification or an update on our lunch order, but the email preview made my stomach drop.

Lab Results - Stratton, Crew

I stared at the screen, my pulse hammering in my ears. My chest felt too tight, like I couldn’t get enough air.

Singleton shifted next to me. “What is it?”

I swallowed, my throat dry. “It’s the results. ”

“You don’t have to look right now if you’re not ready.” He squeezed my thigh.

I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I do.”

The email was short, nothing more than a link to a secure portal. I clicked on it, my hands unsteady as I fumbled to type in my login. My password wasn’t accepted the first time, or the second. I forced myself to slow down and focus, until finally, the page loaded.

Paternity Test Results: Exclusion.

I read it twice, then a third time, my brain catching up in slow motion.

Not the father.

Not mine.

The pressure that had been building for nine days lifted and I thought I was going to pass out. The phone slipped onto the couch beside me as my head fell back against the cushions and I blew out a sigh of relief.

It was over.

“Well?” he urged.

“I’m not the father.”

He moved closer, his hand resting lightly on my chest. “That’s the news you wanted. Why aren’t you jumping for joy?”

My gaze was still locked on the ceiling as I tried to wrap my head around the news. “I think I’m in shock or something.”

He smiled and then leaned in, brushing his lips over my jaw. “I get it. But we don’t have to think about it anymore, right?”

“Never again.”

“Good,” he murmured, his hands sliding up my sides, fingers tracing the contours of my ribs. “Then let’s make tonight about something else.”

A slow smirk tugged at my lips. “Got something in mind?”

He hummed like he was considering it, but the way his hands moved—skating over my abs, then tugging me closer—told me he already knew exactly what he wanted. “I’m thinking we celebrate. ”

“Celebrate, huh?” I arched a brow, tilting my head back as he leaned in to feather kisses down my throat. “Is that what we’re calling this?”

He grinned against my skin. “Got a better word for it?”

I let out a low chuckle, threading my fingers through his hair, and pulling his head back just enough to look him in the eye. “Not really. Just wasn’t expecting you to get all soft on me.”

His fingers skated lower, gripping the waistband of my pants. “I’m not.” He kissed me again, deeper this time, the kind of kiss that sent heat curling in my stomach.

I hauled him down to lie on the couch with me, pulling him until we were tangled together, hands roaming, mouths moving together.

Singleton’s fingers traced over my stomach. “You good?”

I met his gaze, my chest rising and falling. “Never better.”

Before I knew it, I was on top of him, straddling his lap, my hands braced on his chest. He smirked. “You’re not wasting any time, huh?”

I grinned, my lips brushing his as I spoke. “You wanted to celebrate, and I don’t think either of us wants to wait.”

He rocked his hips, and I moaned as our erections strained against our pants and rubbed together. His hands skimmed beneath my shirt, fingertips grazing over the muscles of my back. The touch made me shiver, and I leaned down to kiss him harder, then ran my lips along his neck, working my way down but not rushing to get us naked.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he murmured.

I smirked against his skin. “That a complaint?”

“Not even close.” He pushed my shirt up. I let him, lifting my arms just enough for him to slip the fabric over my head before tossing it onto the floor.

The second it was gone, his mouth was on my throat, his lips dragging over my pulse point and his teeth nipping my skin just enough to make me gasp. I rocked against him again, feeling how hard he was, and how much we were both past the point of teasing.

My fingers slipped under his shirt, and I slid it up, needing more of him, needing all of him. He helped, pulling it the rest of the way off and throwing it aside before yanking me back down into another kiss. This one was hotter, messier, and desperate in a way that sent a thrill down my spine.

I barely registered the sound of a knock at the door until he groaned and stopped kissing me. I ran a hand over my face as I sat up. “Food’s here.”

“Terrible timing.”

I huffed out a laugh and forced myself to climb off him, my body still buzzing as I grabbed my shirt off the floor and pulled it back on. “It’ll still be hot when we’ve worked up more of an appetite.”

He sat up. “You better not be making promises you can’t keep.”

I grinned, shaking my head as I headed for the door. “Well, I guess that actually depends on how long you keep distracting me. Good thing I have a microwave.”