Page 36 of Friends with Benefits

“Waiting for Emmy.”

“Do me a favor?” I asked. Tillie nodded, and Molly peered out with interest. “Don’t tell your sister you saw me.”

“Like a secret?” Tillie asked. At my nod, she said, “We’re not supposed to keep secrets.”

Too damn smart. “Well, I won’t get you in trouble. Don’t go too hard on your sister today.”

“‘Kay. We won’t.”

I’d have to talk to her about them later. They saw us sleeping together that one time before, but I knew Ember didn’t want them to jump to the wrong conclusions. She’d done her best to shield them both from her mom and dad, and she didn’t want to fuck it all up now that they were finally settling into their new routine.

I kissed both of their heads. Ember was going to ream me when she found out they saw me leaving after all our careful planning, but we’d handle it. I had no doubt she would try to pump the brakes on our little arrangement, but that wasn’t gonna happen either.

She might be a distraction, but maybe, for once in my life, a distraction was what I needed.

* * *

“You okay?”

I hated that question with an intensity that couldn’t be described.

That’s all anyone asked me last year.

Coaches.

Teammates.

Doctors.

Physical therapists.

My parents.

My recruiters.

The answer to that question—if it ever needed to be asked—was an unequivocal no.

No one would ever be okay watching their dreams swirl down the drain. No one would ever be okay watching all their hard work turn into a big, fat fucking waste. I sure as hell wasn’t.

But that wasn’t going to happen to me again.

I had worked too hard.

I had wanted it too much.

But that didn’t mean I could fully ignore the pain in my shoulder when it seared through me like an arrow. I could barely contain the grimace as I tried to control my breathing and moderate my expression so no one could read it. It didn’t fool Alex, who jogged to the mound after my wild pitch. Alex, the one man who knew my game better than I did.

I glanced around to the coaches, who were too busy discussing batting strategy to notice one practice pitch gone awry. If they heard one whisper of an injury, they’d be on my case for more physical therapy, and I wasn’t fucking gonna let that happen. Physical therapy equaled bench time. And my ass has seen enough bench time to last me the rest of my career.

I belonged on the mound, and I wasn’t going to let anything stop me from making sure I stayed there.

Alex stopped when he got close enough to whisper. “Is it your arm?”

The arm in question ached from somewhere deep inside like it did when I had worked it for too long. Fatigue and overuse roused a ghost pain from the torn tissue, but that was all. I simply hadn’t stretched enough.

I leveled Alex with a look that had him lifting his hands in a defensive position. “I’m fine. If you fuckin’ ask me that again, though, you won’t be. I’m gonna warm up some more and send in McGuire to practice for a bit.”

Alex nodded, but I could feel his gaze on me from time to time as I threw practice pitches with a freshman catcher and then did some deep stretching exercises I’d learned from my physical therapist, a big, brawny guy named Ted who used to be a big, badass Army Ranger once upon a time.