Page 25 of Falling for the Orc All-Star

I wince. “I think that might have been my fault. I flirt a lot with the King’s Kuties.”

“Your own unofficial cheerleading squad. Legend.” Kev reaches for a cookie. “But also, flirting doesn’t mean yes. Same rules for men and women, man.”

Marina coos and kisses his temple. “This man is going to be a wonderful example for his daughters. He’s right, too. I think there’s also a time and a place. You were clearly out of it in that video.”

“I’d just woken up.”

“Yeah, plus you’re one-legging it. She got the double-no-no of groggy and injured. She was being predatory.”

“Overeager.”

“No, man, look at the video again.”

“I didn’t even know she was filming,” I moan as Kev pushes his phone in front of me.

“You posted a video of your own?”

I shrug. “I’ll probably delete it later.” My socials are full of my best plays, clips from my All-Star games, and my best fan interactions—things my agent says the majors want to see. My heartfelt treacle isn’t on brand. Doesn’t belong there.

“Good God.” Kev looks at his screen and then at me. “You only posted this five minutes ago.”

“Yeah.”

“There are already one hundred comments. Listen, ‘Donating to my local hospital. Be Someone’s Team.’ ‘Helping my neighbor with her newborn tonight. King’s Team.’ ‘Giving to Hockey Fights Cancer tonight. On Someone’s Team.’ ‘I’ll be at the games all season. Lumberjacks Fever.’ What did yousay?” Kev looks at me in a mixture of shock and maybe just a little bit of horror.

I share the feeling.“I don’t evenknow. Something good, I guess.”

Chapter Ten: Ingrid

Kev: You’re late. I’m starting in on that roast without you, God as my witness. Watch this.

I’ve just pulled up, and I’m deliberately wearing baggy jeans and a plain black shirt. Acquaintance Ingrid is here, dressed in casual clothes that indicate my level of interest and effort. Datable Ingrid is not here. Kissable Ingrid is not on the menu.

I sit in the car and hit the link Kev sent. It better not be a video of Kev munching in my face.

A tousled, grave-looking King is speaking into the camera. Nothing can change the beauty of his features, even if I don’t want them for myself.

“Hi. Thank you all so much. The love and support that people have shown since I’ve been injured is incredible. I just... I just want you to do something for me. See, Pine Ridge is the best community in the world, and Lumberjacks fans are amazing—with a few little lapses of judgment here and there. I’m taken care of. But can you do me a favor? Go give some love to someone else who’s struggling. Someone who doesn’t have their own team. Be someone’s team today, okay? Oh—but I still expect to see your butts in the seats at every game. I know I’ll be there, even on crutches. I’ll be the guy screaming loudest on the bench.”

Stab me in the tear ducts, why don’t you?

I don’t know why that moves me so much, but it does.

I hurry out of the car, taking deep breaths, blinking away any tears before they fall.

Had a team once. I thought I’d always be part of the Navy community. And then it left me. I left it. And then I thought I’d have my family around me... And we get along.

But I’m alone.

I like being alone. Me and the dogs. It’s all good. It’s all good.

But that was sweet of King. And the comments scrolling across the screen as I watched were sweet, too. People promising to show up for those in need. People promising to go to games.

Whatever. People behind a screen can say anything they want. We’ll see what people do.

More importantly, we’ll see what King does.

Not that I care.