Page 3

3

CREW

The ringing of my phone woke me and I rolled over and grabbed it off my nightstand. Squinting at the screen, my mother’s face and name shined back and me and I swiped the answer bar. “Hey, Mom.”

“Oh, no. Did I wake you?”

I glanced at the clock to see it was almost ten in the morning. “Yeah, our game went into extra innings last night, but I need to get up anyway.”

“I’m sorry. I was watching but fell asleep before it was over.”

“I get it.”

Where she lived in Tennessee was two hours ahead of Denver, so when a game didn’t even start until after nine her time, staying awake for extra innings was a big ask.

“But I was calling because I’ve got some news.”

I sat up and yawned. “What?”

“I just ran into Mallory at the Dixie Mart. She’s moved back to Harvest Ridge. ”

“Oh,” I breathed. Mallory Wade was my high school girlfriend who followed me to Florida State. She broke up with me the day after I was drafted by the Rockies. Said she didn’t want to hold me back. I thought we’d be building something together, but she thought letting go was the way to love me.

“She asked about you,” my mother went on.

I got out of bed. “Okay?”

“I just thought you should know.”

“Thanks, but it’s been almost four years and you know my life revolves around baseball. Nothing has changed for me.”

“I know, but I always thought you two would end up getting married.”

So did I, at one point. “Most people don’t marry their first love.”

“You’re right, but you’re both single.” I swore I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Mom,” I groaned.

“What? I’m just saying.”

“You’re doing more than saying.” I padded toward the bathroom, and put the phone on speaker. “Mallory and I didn’t make it for a reason.”

“That reason being baseball.”

“Exactly.” I twisted the faucet and let the cold water run over my fingers before splashing some on my face. “And nothing’s changed. I’m still all in, still traveling, still living out of a suitcase half the year.”

“I just worry that baseball takes up so much of your time that there’s no room for anything else.”

I dried my face with a towel and leaned against the counter. “Mom, I’m not lonely.”

“Did I say you were?”

I picked up my cell but kept it on speaker. “You didn’t have to.”

She sighed. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am.” And mostly, that was true.

“Okay.” She didn’t sound convinced, but at least she stopped pushing. “I’ll let you go, but don’t be a stranger, okay? Call me when you’re free.”

“I always do.”

We said our goodbyes, then I set my phone on the counter and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I hadn’t thought about Mallory in a long time, but now, memories crept in. We used to spend summer nights in the bed of my truck, she’d fall asleep on my shoulder during movies even though she swore she wasn’t tired, and she was always sitting in the stands wearing my jersey.

I shook my head to clear it. That was another lifetime. Mallory Wade was in my past, and that’s exactly where she needed to stay.

We were down by two at the top of the eighth against the Dodgers. Our new guy, Singleton, was up to bat and behind in the count with Neal on second and Latham on first. We already had two outs on the board, but we could tie it all up if Singleton hit a double. Then we’d have a chance to beat LA.

We’d been on a losing streak going into our road trip and needed a win to turn shit around. Singleton had the potential and drive to help us, so while I watched Johnson get his sign and pitch the ball, I held my breath.

Singleton swung, and the ball soared toward right field. Every guy on the bench tracked it, until it cleared the fence. We all jumped up, cheering as the rookie hit his first major league home run in just his third game and put us ahead by one.

After Singleton jogged around the bases and made his way back into the dugout, none of us congratulated him. There were no handshakes. No high-fives and no slaps on the back or ass. We acted as though he’d struck out.

I walked toward him, trying not to make eye contact as he took a seat on the bench and wiped the back of his neck with a towel.

“You really gonna ignore me?” he muttered under his breath.

I pretended to not hear him. “Hey, Skip,” I called out, turning toward our manager. “We get a run for a ground out, right? Or is it just a walk that counts? ”

The guys caught on quickly.

“No, no,” Payne jumped in, scratching his chin like he was deep in thought. “It’s a sac fly that counts as half a run, isn’t it?”

Robinson shook his head. “Nah, that only works if you’ve been in the league for more than a week.”

Singleton tossed his towel onto the bench and leaned back, stretching his arms across the top. “That’s cute, guys. Real cute.”

I finally glanced over, barely biting back a grin. “You say something? Thought I heard a rookie chirping.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, but I didn’t miss the way his lips twitched.

“All right, all right,” Robinson relented, reaching over to ruffle Singleton’s hair. “You did good, man.”

That was all it took. The dugout erupted, and I pulled Singleton up and into a bro hug. Others clapped him on the back and a few guys even went for smacks on his ass, which was just part of the sport’s culture.

Singleton shook his head through it all, but the smile finally broke free as he returned to his seat. “You guys are dicks.”

I sat and nudged his knee with mine. “Welcome to the big leagues.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his brown hair. “Hell of a welcome.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started.” Payne grinned.

Latham grabbed Singleton’s towel off the bench and snapped it at his thigh. “Gotta keep you humble, rookie.”

Singleton swatted him away. “Right. Because hitting a go-ahead home run in my third game isn’t enough to prove I belong here?”

I smirked. “Nah. You’re still on probation.”

Davenport crossed his arms. “We’ll let you know when you’ve earned real congratulations.”

Singleton rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. He knew the deal. He’d played ball long enough to expect it. And from the way he was fighting a smile, I had a feeling he didn’t mind.

The locker room was loud. Music blasted from the speaker in the corner, showers ran, and the guys were still riding high off the win. Beating the Dodgers always felt good, but snapping a losing streak on top of it was even better.

Singleton sat at his locker next to mine, untying his cleats, when Neal strolled over, a towel slung around his neck. “So, rookie, tell us, was that home run for us, or were you just trying to impress your mommy and daddy watching at home?”

A few guys snickered, and Singleton didn’t even look up as he kicked off his spikes. “I don’t need to impress them. They already know I’m better than all of you.”

Groans of protest echoed through the locker room.

Latham grinned. “Cocky for a guy who just got his first dinger. What happens if you go oh-for-four tomorrow? Are we taking away your home run privileges?”

Singleton smirked, clearly knowing Latham was fucking with him. “That a thing now?”

“Absolutely. League rules,” I deadpanned.

Singleton rolled his eyes. “Right. And what’s the initiation process for guys who hit game-winners against division rivals?”

Payne grabbed a Gatorade bottle off the bench and held it up like he was about to make a toast. “Gentlemen, I present to you the rookie of the night.”

Before Singleton could react, Payne upended the bottle over his head, drenching him in the blue sports drink.

Singleton cursed and jerked back, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the second one Neal dumped on him.

“You just earned your first soak, dude!” Davenport shouted.

Singleton wiped his face, blinking through the liquid dripping from his hair. He let out a slow breath, then stood.

We all braced, waiting for his reaction.

Then he grabbed the closest water bottle and chucked it at Neal.

Laughter exploded as Neal barely dodged it. “Oh, it’s like that, huh?”

Singleton laughed, shaking out his soaked hair. “Damn right, it is. ”

Neal grinned. “I like this guy.”

Latham nodded. “Yeah, he’ll do.”

I leaned against my locker, arms crossed, watching as the guys ribbed him.

Knox Singleton looked like he belonged on a damn billboard, not a baseball field. Sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and stunning cornflower blue eyes. His brown hair was just long enough to shove back with his fingers, which he did like it was second nature. He had the build too. Tall. Lean. The cut you get from years of grinding and not just lifting weights. His body was built by swinging a bat, fielding grounders, and putting in the work. He carried himself like he knew exactly what he was capable of, and damn if that confidence didn’t make it impossible to look away.

Yeah, Singleton was gonna fit in just fine, and I’d never tell a soul I thought he was hot as hell too.

After a game—especially after a win—some guys and I liked to go out for a drink to unwind. We headed to a bar a few blocks from the hotel and just before we got there, I said, “First round’s on the rookie!”

Latham clapped Singleton on the shoulder. “Yeah, that home run bonus kick in yet?”

Singleton huffed out a laugh. “Right, because Triple-A paychecks are so generous. You guys trying to bankrupt me?”

We walked inside, found an open table near the back, and settled in. The place was packed but not overwhelming. A couple of fans lingered near the bar, but no one was making a scene by reacting to us being there, which meant we could actually relax.

Beers were ordered, toasts were made, and the conversation bounced between game highlights and continuing to razz Singleton about his big night. He handled it well, rolling with every joke like he’d been part of the team for years.

At some point, Neal leaned back in his chair, smirking. “All right, Singleton, you’re new here. We don’t know a damn thing about your personal life. You got a girlfriend, or are you living the bachelor dream?”

“No girlfriend.” Singleton shook his head.

“Ah.” Neal nodded. “So, just playing the field?”

Singleton arched a brow. “Something like that.”

Robinson’s eyes narrowed slightly, like he was catching on. “What’s your type, then?”

Singleton didn’t skip a beat before answering, “Guys.”

The table went quiet for half a second. Not awkward, not tense, just a pause, like everyone was processing the information at the same time.

Then Latham grinned. “Well, shit. You could’ve led with that.”

Singleton smirked. “Didn’t know it was required information.”

Neal chuckled, tipping his bottle toward him. “Man, you’re lucky we’re chill. Some teams would make a whole thing out of it.”

Singleton leaned back, casual as ever. “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t play for those teams.”

That earned him some approving nods. If anything, his confidence just cemented his place with us even more.

Latham elbowed Robinson. “Guess that means Singleton won’t be stealing your girl, huh?”

Robinson rolled his eyes and gestured to himself. “Like he could compete with this.”

We erupted in laughter, and just like that, the conversation shifted to something else. No weirdness, no hesitation, just another thing we knew about Singleton now.

I took a sip of my beer, barely registering the next topic. My mind was still on that moment, that easy way he’d said it. No reluctance. No glancing around to gauge reactions. He acted as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Because it was.

For him.

For me … not so much.

I shifted in my chair and took another drink, letting the bitterness of the alcohol distract me. I wasn’t uncomfortable. I wasn’t. It was just—I didn’t know what it was.

I’d known I was bi since middle school. Maybe before then. But no one else did. Not my family, not my friends, not anyone I’d ever played with. It had never felt like something I could just put out there, not without risking how people saw me. How the game saw me.

Singleton didn’t seem to have that fear. He sat there, completely relaxed, like being out and proud in a clubhouse full of straight guys wasn’t a big deal. And, apparently, it wasn’t for my teammates.

But would it be different if it were me?

Would they joke the same? Act the same? Treat me the same?

I had no idea.