Page 5

Chapter four

Kai

“P! How’s it goin’, kid?” I high-five Sin’s nine-year-old daughter Peyton, holding my hand up high enough that she has to jump for it.

Which is pretty damn high, seeing as the kid is growing like a weed.

“Aww man, you gotta grow some more,” I tease as I lower it just enough so she can jump and smack it.

“Nuh-uh, I reached it,” she says, her hands on her hips. Peyton’s a riot. One of the coolest kids I know, although she’s got competition from her younger brother Jett, but don’t tell my actual nephews and niece that.

Family Day for the Vancouver Tridents is in full swing.

It’s a cool tradition the team does every year, just before our season opener.

We fill the stadium with players, staff, and all their families, and just have a good time.

There’s a massive grill being manned by a catering company, plenty of food, games and activities for the kids, the mascot is wandering around with blown-up baseball bats, and everyone is having a blast.

But this year as I wander around, greeting everyone with a grin, I can’t help but feel like a bit of an outsider.

I’m friends with most of the guys on the team. Hell, I’m friendly with all of them. But my boys, the ones I’m close to, that’s a smaller list. And every single one of those fuckers has managed to shack up with a partner over the last few years.

Leaving me feeling like a lone wolf.

Even Darling, my brother from another mother, the guy who used to hit the bars to charm the ladies with me, is settled down and dating my baby sister.

Yeah, that took some getting used to. I shake my head when my gaze lands on them all wrapped up in each other, staring into each other’s eyes like they aren’t surrounded by teammates and kids.

“Save it for the bedroom,” I tease as I walk over to them. It might have taken me a little while to adjust to their relationship, but I’m happy for them. Evie’s got a great guy who I know will respect her and treat her the way she deserves. And Darling? Fuck, I’ve never seen the guy so smitten.

“You’re just jealous.” Evie slaps at my chest, rolling her eyes.

“Whatever, Gigi,” I say, pulling her under my arm in a loose headlock. As expected, she shrieks, both at the headlock and the nickname which she says she hates, but I think she secretly loves. Darling, the smart man he is, puts his hands up with a chuckle.

“I’m stayin’ out of this, honey.”

“Bros before —”

“Don’t finish that statement, Yami,” Darling growls, pulling my sister free and tucking her into his side.

Like the grown-up she is, Evie sticks her tongue out at me.

I wince. He’s not wrong. “Sorry, you’re right. Not cool.”

Evie, thankfully, gives me a look that makes it clear I’m forgiven. And after a second, Darling’s face relaxes from the scowl he was giving me. The scowl I earned.

Just then, our attention is pulled by the sound of a mic scratching.

I wince. “Damn, you’d think they could afford a better sound system,” I joke, but no one’s really listening to me.

They’re all looking at the small stage erected just in front of our dugout, where the team’s owner, Mike Cartwright, is standing.

“Hi everyone, I know you’re all busy having fun, but if I could just have your attention for a few minutes, I promise to keep it short so we can get back to celebrating the start of another excellent season.”

I don’t know how I got so lucky to end up on a team run by a guy like Mike. He’s a hell of a lot better than a lot of team owners I hear about. His entire focus is on the Tridents being more than a team — being a family. And days like today are evidence of that.

“Welcome to all the new faces. I know I speak for all of management when I say we’re excited to see what you can do this season.

I’ve owned this team for ten years, and I’ve seen a lot of great players and staff come and go.

But standing up here today, looking out at all of you, I’ve got a good feeling. This is our year.”

The field erupts in cheers, led by us players.

Mike lifts his hands, gesturing for us to settle down. “That’s right, that’s the spirit. Now, as is our tradition, I want to take a couple of minutes to celebrate all the great things that happened for the Tridents’ family over the offseason.”

As he goes through the list of people who had babies or grandbabies, engagements, and other shit that people like to celebrate, I look around at the crowd.

My gaze catches on a head of long golden-blonde hair cascading in waves of sunlight near the front, and I freeze. It’s just a flash of a profile, which shouldn’t be enough for me to have this sort of a reaction. There’s no chance it’s her. The universe wouldn’t fuck with me like that.

Right?

Then I see Mike gesturing to the side, and the blonde ghost from my past turns to face the crowd.

“Our very own Coach Stirling got married, and his new wife is here with her daughter. Welcome Leanne and Isabelle.”

What. The. Fuck. Is. Happening.

I can’t look away. My hands lift and rub my eyes, certain that when my vision clears, I’ll realize I was imagining it. There’s no chance it’s my Isabelle standing up there, looking nervous as she gazes around the crowd.

But I see the second she recognizes me. Her perfect rosebud mouth, still that same shade of pink, falls open. Her eyes widen. Her hand lands on her chest. Her chest that’s covered in — fuck…a Tridents shirt.

Coach’s stepdaughter isn’t some little kid. It’s Isabelle fucking Murphy, the woman who broke my heart eight years ago.

She looks good. Too good. Her body, that was always naturally curvy, has filled out even more, and even though it’s all kinds of fucked-up, my dick hardens a little just looking at her.

No woman has ever gotten to me the way Iz did.

She knew me in ways no one else does. Until her, I thought my future belonged to baseball and only baseball.

I’d never pictured myself having a wife and kids, but with her?

I pictured it. I wanted it. Even as a stupid twenty-year-old with dreams of making the big leagues. I wanted her by my side.

Then she left me. Moved to fucking Italy. Said she’d be back, that we’d be okay. But then she changed the rules of the game and decided to stay.

The last thing I ever said to her was that I never wanted to speak to her again.

I know, real mature, Kai.

But it sucks losing your girlfriend and your best friend all at once.

And at not quite twenty-one, I was the idiot who let my broken heart turn me into an asshole that pushed her away completely.

She was the person I trusted the most. And all of a sudden, she was gone, and she wasn’t coming back? Yeah, I didn’t exactly handle it well.

And now she’s here, in front of me, looking like a fucking goddess.

Jesus fucking Christ. Anger, hurt, and wonder all mix together, making my stomach turn. How the hell am I meant to handle this?

“Kai, are you okay?” I startle at the feel of my sister’s hand on my arm. Turning, I look down at her concerned face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I have.

“Fine.” I force a smile, then rub my stomach. “Just hungry.”

Evie laughs and rolls her eyes. “Didn’t I see you eating a foot-long hot dog already?”

Darling leans in and kisses the top of her head. “Yeah, but Yami’s always hungry.”

I shrug, fighting not to make it obvious I’m searching for Isabelle. “It’s true. What can I say?” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m gonna go grab a snack. See you guys later.”

Without another word, I pivot and jog over to the food table.

I’m fairly certain I hear more than one person call my name, but I ignore them.

I grab random items, not bothering to look at what I choose, just needing something to make it look like I’m busy, and not furtively scanning the crowd, trying to find my ghost.

I eventually find her standing by the dugout talking with Mike and his niece Willow. Not a chance I can go to her right now, so I move to the side, leaning against the barrier that separates the field from the stands, and finally look at the food I grabbed.

I really am hungry.

“Ah, damn it,” I grumble as I realize I’m holding a veggie dog. No shade to vegetarians, but fake meat just isn’t my thing. Spying a nearby garbage can, I toss it in, then open the bag of chips. At least those are good. Ketchup chips are supreme.

I continue to glance over at Iz, and the second I see Mike and Willow walk away, I straighten and beeline my way to her, weaving through the crowd until I’m by her side. Without a word or a second thought, I grab her hand and tug her down the three steps into the visitor’s dugout.

She pulls her hand free, lifting it to cover her mouth as we stand there, staring at each other.

“What the actual fuck are you doing here?”

The words come out harsh and jagged. I pull my hat off my head and rake my fingers through my hair before putting it back on.

All of a sudden, my knees feel weak. I sit on the bench, never letting my gaze drop from her.

I thought about what I’d say if I ever saw her again, but now that I’m face-to-face with her, I can’t remember a damn thing.

“I-I had no idea you were on his team, I swear,” she stammers out. A part of me is relieved she clearly didn’t know I’d be here. I’m not sure why, but that would have hurt more, if she knew, somehow, and I didn’t.

Another part of me can’t quite believe it. She didn’t even bother to check if I was on the team that her fucking stepfather coaches. Guess I know where I stand.

I bark out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, well, I thought you were a little kid.”

She looks confused for a second, but I don’t really feel like explaining myself, so I just shake my head, still gobsmacked that she’s here.

“Damn it, Iz.” I exhale, and finally let my head fall back to stare at the ceiling of the dugout. I don’t know what else to say. Or how the hell to handle this.

She starts to say something, but then a female voice interrupts us.

“There you are, Belles. I — oh. Sorry, am I interrupting?”

A blonde woman who looks so much like Isabelle, they could be sisters, not mother and daughter, looks between the two of us.

It’s cowardly, maybe, especially since I’m the one who dragged her down here, but since I’m still reeling, and at a total loss on what to do or say, I take the chance to escape.

“Not at all, ma’am. Isabelle and I were just saying hi.

Turns out, we went to the same college.” I force a hopefully polite smile and reach out my hand.

I’m not fool enough to disrespect Coach’s new wife, even if she is the mother of the woman who broke my heart.

“Kai Yamaki. Congrats on your wedding. Coach is a great guy.”

The older woman’s face brightens. “Oh, that’s so cool you two know each other! What a small world.” She shakes my hand firmly. “I’m Leanne. You’re one of the pitchers, right? And please don’t call me ma'am, it makes me feel old.”

I nod. “Noted. You’ll have to excuse me, I should get back to the party.”

Leanne turns to her daughter and says, “Yeah, I came to find you because Tony wanted to take us on a tour of the stadium. I told him how you used to love baseball.”

I don’t miss the pain that flashes over Isabelle’s face, but her mom somehow doesn’t notice.

“Sure. Sounds good.” Isabelle looks up at me, her expression guarded. “Good to see you, Kai.”

“You too, Iz.”

Good to see her? I mean, that’s not exactly the truth, but not completely a lie. Honestly, I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling right now, aside from confused as fuck.

Because like it or not, Isabelle Murphy is back in my life.