Page 3

LOGAN

I could feel them talking about me.

The whispers grated against my skin like sandpaper—impossible to ignore. It was sickening how quickly the core group fell in line, casting judgmental looks as they cooked like one big happy family.

Cael had talked about how amazing they were regularly, and it only fueled the need to keep my distance from their bullshit.

We were here to play sports, graduate from university, and move on.

These guys wouldn’t follow me into the next stage of my life. I didn’t care for friendships. It didn’t matter how wonderful things started. Everyone could find something in common if they tried hard enough. But eventually, the silence would set in, and the distance would grow. The animosity for one another's hobbies would fester, and slowly but surely, they would leave. They always did.

It wasn’t about connection. It was about appearances.

The more people around you, the cooler you looked.

People would be jealous and want to be in the circle.

I didn’t want that. I wanted out of Harbor, out of this fucking cursed state and far away from the life I was working so hard to forget about.

Making friends was pointless.

I looked down at my cell phone and groaned at the lack of service. I needed to have service; I couldn’t risk the panic that would ensue the moment my mother couldn’t reach me.

I shouldn’t have agreed to two weeks in the middle of nowhere. That was my first mistake. There was too much chaos in my personal life to be cut off from it cold-turkey. I hadn’t even told her I was coming out here. The stress eroded my focus and made it hard to be in a present space.

But it was just two weeks. I could manage two weeks.

Hopefully, with minimal bloodshed.

My relationship with Dean Tucker had always been tight. Strained by the rivalry but made worse by his constant need to protect everyone. The worst of them all with his sunny smile and stupid toxic positivity. Cael needed to leash his rabid golden retriever before something exploded.

I chucked the ball again, harder this time, and it bounced off the wall too hard and fast to get my hand on it.

“This probably isn’t the best way to make friends.” Silas came up behind me like a fucking bad omen.

“Can you at least make noise when you walk?” I grumbled and looked over my shoulder at him. He was palming the baseball in his hand, and his eyes focused on the spinning laces as he moved it around. I hated his fucking face. His pensive gray eyes and tight jaw were always watching everyone. He reminded me of an owl; he was always around, but half the time, he was so quiet that no one even knew they were being observed.

And his dumb head was always on a swivel.

“I’ll get a bell,” he said quietly.

“I’m not here to make friends,” I retorted, ignoring his dumb joke.

“Josh,” he said as he stepped forward, “that’s exactly why you’re here.”

“I’m here to play baseball.” I dug my heels into the grass beneath my feet and shoved my hands in my pockets.

“If you want a place on this team, a chance to finish your degree... you have to play nice. It was the only condition,” Silas said.

“Yeah, I know, Shore. I don’t need reminding that my stay here has an expiry date,” I snapped.

“It’s not an expiry date, it’s an opportunity.”

“It’s a guilt-ridden bribe to keep my mouth shut,” I corrected him. The anger I carried around bubbled up without warning.

“You know that’s not true. If you want to go public, we do it,” Silas said it like he actually meant it, and that terrified me.

If you want to go public.

“Fuck you. And your dad,” I spat. “I’ll pitch the season and be gone before anyone has to worry about me ruining their lives. Just leave me the fuck alone, Shore.”

“Alright,” he said, still watching me. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Why do you all think I need something from you?” I asked him as he started to walk away.

“‘Cause everyone needs something, Josh,” he said. “You’re just too angry to ask for it.”

I was angry for a reason. I hated this fucking team. I hated Silas Shore, and I hated his dad even more.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said without turning back to me. He wandered toward the mess hall and disappeared inside.

The thought of being locked inside with them was suffocating.

They were so happy.

A few more stragglers crossed the grass into the hall, and I followed them close enough to hear them talking about the upcoming season. Selfishly, I wanted them to gossip about me so that I could start something, but it was like they didn’t even notice I was there.

Inside, the hall looked like something out of an eighties camp thriller, which is precisely what it felt like to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with a team that hated every piece of DNA inside me.

“I’m Ella.”

I looked to my left to see King’s girlfriend standing in front of me with her hand extended. She was tall and clearly athletic, but a jarring scar cut her delicate features in half.

“It’s from a car accident,” she said when she noticed me staring.

“I know who you are. You broke my nose,” I said in a grumble, without removing my hands from my pockets.

“You insulted my fiancé,” she quipped.

“Touché,” I nodded. “What is it that you want, Ella?”

“I came over to offer you a spot at our table,” she said.

“I’m good. I’ll just go—” I pointed to an empty table.

“Sorry, Logan. We play as a family, and we eat like one. If you want dinner, you sit with us.”

I looked her over, disdain pushing through my typical mask. I didn’t understand the constant need to help the people around them. It was like they couldn’t help themselves.

“You’re bossy.” I turned away from her.

“I’ve been told,” she hummed. “It’s just dinner.”

“I have a feeling with you guys it’s never that simple.”

“Maybe, but you still can’t eat alone. Rules are rules.” Ella led the way back to where she was sitting with five guys I never wanted to be stuck with.

“You look like you’re going to be sick, Logan,” Dean quipped with a bright smile that made me wanna punch it off him.

“You can sit here.” Cael tugged on the back of the empty chair next to him, and it slid across the dining hall floor noisily. “I don’t bite.”

It was a strange feeling pretending we hadn’t spent the last six months sitting across from each other in shitty diners off campus, with Cael trauma dumping into greasy burgers. But it was better for everyone that they didn’t know. It wasn’t any of their business anyway.

Four years sober, I had stopped craving the smell of vodka. I stopped enjoying the numbness of an entire bottle being dumped down my throat. I didn’t need to be numb anymore, and as much as I hated feeling the world around me on my skin, it was better than dying face down in my puke.

I flexed my hands at my sides and sank into the chair, my shoulder brushing against Cael’s. I shifted closer to the end of the table to put space between us. Only one thing bothered me more than this stupid team, and that was being touched.

Cael stared at me for a moment before letting ignorance wash over him. His hair was cut close to his scalp, and the dirty blond peach fuzz only accentuated his pretty boy features.

“Here.” He slid me a plate with a pile of salad on it before shifting the bowl of tomato sauce in my direction. “It’s chili, Josh,” he said, handing me the spoon. “ It’s not poison…”

I went to argue that it wasn’t the food bothering me, when Tucker stood up at the other end of the table.

“Say thank you for dinner,” Tucker said—more outburst than speech, but the entire hall erupted in thank-yous before quieting down again. “I made the schedule for meals the rest of the time we’re here. Outfield, you’ll cook odd days, infield…you have even.”

Groans filled the space loudly, and the sound was overwhelming, making it feel like more than just one baseball team was occupying it.

“Whoever cooks doesn’t clean so,” Dean said with a smile as they groaned even louder, “after dinner, you have time to yourselves. Try not to get into trouble.”

“Sure thing, Tucker!” One of the guys yelled. “As long as you promise the same thing.” Dean laughed and chucked a roll in his direction. It bounced off the table, but the kid caught it in his fingers and brought it back down to his mouth.

“Alright. Enjoy dinner. Hard work starts tomorrow. We have a season to win, and that journey starts in a month for other teams, but we’re working with a disadvantage and…” He pinned his shoulders back, the only sign that he was uncomfortable. “I don't know…” he sounded defeated, like he was still unsure of being captain. “We just have work to do. Dig in.” He brushed off the team and sat back down.

“Eloquent, Dean,” Van snorted with a mouthful of food.

Dean stared down the table at me. I was well aware that on top of losing Arlo, I was the disadvantage he was referring to, but what he didn’t understand was that for all my flaws, the only thing in my life that mattered to me was baseball.

So, despite my hatred for the team, I’d work harder than anyone for the win.