Page 28

“No.” I want to puke at the thought. “I highly doubt that.” Judging by his needs an hour ago, I’m sure the answer’s no. At least, it better be. Otherwise, what the fuck? The memory of his hands on me, his mouth on my neck, makes my cheeks flush. Thank God for stadium lighting.

I usually tell Callie everything, but I don’t know how to explain this. I can’t say I’m back with him, because we’re not. I don’t know what we are, and I’m afraid to ask, so I’m here in a haze of uncertainty, wearing his hoodie like some kind of claim while wondering if I even have the right.

“Maybe she’s here for the game, not for Jaxon,” Callie says, trying to be helpful, but we both know better.

“Yeah.” I shrug, eyes back on the bullpen, but Jaxon’s gone. “Maybe.” Maybe pigs will fly and Coach will cancel morning practice.

“Who gave you these seats, girl?” Callie asks, looking around and realizing we’re right above the home dugout. Perfect view of everything—especially him.

“Oh, uh, Coach Drew had them and hooked me up after our game.” Lying, but whatever.

“Aww, nice. Isn’t that Jaxon’s parents?” She points. “Damn, his dad is so hot though, for real.”

“Callie,” I snort, laughing. Leave it to her. “Yeah, that’s them. I’m gonna go say hi.”

“Okay, I’m going to get food.”

“You were just at the concession stand.”

“I know, but I’m hungry.”

“Of course you are.” Callie’s on a full ride and her parents still send her a monthly allowance—otherwise, she’d never afford to eat as much as she does. The girl’s stomach is a black hole.

I scoot past Callie and head over to Jaxon’s family before I can second-guess it. It’s not until I’m feet away, and they’ve already spotted me, that I realize what I’m doing. Jaxon and I aren’t together anymore.

What if they don’t want to see me? What has he told them? Probably nothing. What if they’ve met Inez and love her more?

Please don’t let that happen.

My throat tightens. Emerson, his older sister, spots me first, eyes wide. “Cam!” she squeals and jumps up to hug me.

Growing up an only child, Em was the big sister I never had. Five years older than Jaxon, an EMT in Seattle, never afraid to put him in his place. The number of times she’s saved both our asses is probably higher than his batting average.

She yanks me into a hug, and I’m practically laying across his mom to reach Em. Her vanilla perfume is like a comfort blanket.

“It’s been months, girl.”

“I know. I’ve barely been in town since the season started.” I squeeze her tight. She was one of my best friends. I looked up to her more than she’ll ever know.

Heck, first person I told when Jaxon and I had sex was Emerson. She took me to get birth control months before, no questions asked.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” I say, honest. When Jaxon and I broke up, I was scared of losing his family. We’ve stayed in touch, though—I even spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with them.

We chat for a minute but the game’s about to start and the anthem comes on.

I stand straighter, squeezed between Jaxon’s mom and Emerson, both of them hugging me. It feels like home, even though everything’s different now.

“Sooo,” Emerson whispers, “Are you guys still,” she tips her head, “you know, doing that thing?”

Yeah, she means the situationship. I told Emerson all about it over Christmas when she found us in the closet. I told her I hoped we’d get back together. Still hasn’t happened, but we’re closer than a couple weeks ago, right?

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m confused as usual.”

“Well,” Emerson rolls her eyes, “we both know Jaxon’s good at confusing people and keeping secrets.”

She’s not wrong. I laugh. “Yeah, he is.”

All senior year, Jaxon had everyone thinking he was going to Florida to play baseball because he wore a Gators hoodie.

Then right before season started, he announced he’d signed with UW months ago.

Whether it was to mess with people or just for his own entertainment—classic Jaxon. Keep everyone guessing.

Emerson leans in, mouth close to my ear since we’re not supposed to talk during the anthem. “Is he still talking to that one girl?”

She knows about her. My heart pounds. “I don’t know if he is, but she’s here,” I whisper, then wait for her reaction. If she says she wants to say hi, I might die. Or vomit. Or both.

“Wait. What? Oh my God.” She clutches my arm. “Where?” She scans the stands. “He wouldn’t show me what she looks like. I asked and he dodged.”

Okay, well, that helps. If Emerson hasn’t seen Inez, I haven’t been replaced yet. The relief is ridiculous but I’ll take it.

“She’s in the student section.” I nod subtly. “Next to Brynn. Black hair. Glasses.”

And awkward as fuck. I don’t say that, but Emerson’s look says she gets it.

She turns back, eyes wide. “No way. There’s no fucking way he’d choose her over you. That’s insane.”

He’s done dumber shit, though.

“Surprised the hell out of me they were talking.” I don’t want to be mean, but Inez isn’t for Jaxon. He’s athletic, competitive, stubborn as hell, and she’s... a journalism major. What do they even talk about? Books? He’s never willingly picked one up in his life, unless it’s a stat magazine.

The anthem ends and Mila, Jaxon’s mom, yanks me onto her lap. “Cammmm,” she squeals, kissing my head, hugging me like a lost teddy bear. “I miss my girl.”

I saw his parents at Christmas, but I get it. I used to basically live at their house in high school.

I wrap my arms around her. “I miss you too, Mama Mila.”

His dad leans in, shoulder bumping mine. “Sixty-one K’s for the season already?” He’s grinning. “Dang, girl.”

Aww. He knows my stats. Like father, like son. Or my dad. Sometimes I wonder if they compare notes, tracking my strikeouts like baseball cards.

I grin at him. “You keeping tabs on me, Mr. C?”

He winks, eyes shining like Jaxon’s. “Of course. You’ll always be my favorite double zeros.”

“Aww.”

Jaxon comes into view but doesn’t look into the stands. He’s focused on his coach and Jameson, that game face on. That intense, older, dangerous look. Same one he gets when he’s studying game film or planning a new pitch sequence.

Usually, pitcher and catcher get the lineup before the game and plan out pitches. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it falls apart. Our team does the same, and it works about eighty percent of the time. The other twenty? That’s when you hope your outside fastball is on fire.

I chat with Jaxon’s parents and notice Callie waving at Emerson, trying to talk from the seats above the dugout. She’s got another snack. Where does she put it all?

Emerson laughs at Callie. “Did Jaxon give you the good seats again?”

I glance at Callie—now holding a hot dog. Figures. “Oh, uh.” I pause. Jaxon’s family always sits near home plate. “I hardly call these bad seats, Em. You see all the action from here.”

“Yeah but my view is my brother’s ass most of the time.” She scrunches her nose. “I’d rather not.”

Not gonna lie, I wouldn’t mind that view for two hours. Wait, did I say that out loud? Thank God for internal monologues.

The game’s about to start so I hug them all. “I’ll come find you guys after.”

Squeezing through the crowd, I sit with Callie.

She smiles. “How’d that go?”

“Good. They still love me.”

She snorts, squirting mustard on her hotdog like abstract art. “Did you really doubt it?”

“Maybe a little.” I fidget with Jaxon’s hoodie, nerves all over the place. If I’m this anxious now, how the hell am I going to make it through this game?

Let me know if you have any ideas because I’m open. Power outage? Alien invasion? Anything to distract from the fact that I’m wearing his hoodie while his maybe-something is in the student section.

“Why do hot dogs taste so good?” Callie hands hers to me to finish. Why she buys food she won’t eat baffles me. She’s personally offended by leftovers.

I look at the hot dog and at her. “That’s all you’re eating?”

Her brows knot. “Yes?”

“Cal.” I groan. “You waste so much food.”

“I’m sorry.” Her nose wrinkles. “It tastes weird.”

“What did you expect? It’s a hot dog. Not even real meat.”

She blinks. “It’s not?”

How is she in AP classes, honestly?

I wonder this a lot. She’s book smart, but not meant for the streets. The girl once asked if fish needed to drink water. I wish I was joking.

“Oh my God. No. Hot dogs are like ground up meat leftovers.”

She grabs her nachos. “At least these are real cheese.”

Shhh. Don’t tell her. There are things in life she doesn’t need to know. Like the truth about nacho cheese. And Santa Claus. And, honestly, how babies are made—I’m starting to wonder after the hockey game.

Just as I take a bite of her hot dog, Jaxon takes the field, catching mask in hand. He glances up at the seats above the dugout—right at me, mouth full of hot dog. Classy.

He smirks. I roll my eyes. “Of course he looks up when I’ve got a mouthful of meat.”

Callie laughs. “Could be worse.” She wipes her lips. “I have cheese on mine.”

She’s still licking cheese sauce from her fingers when Jameson steps out of the dugout. “Crap. He’s looking at me.”

You wanna know who I look at next as Jaxon squats behind home plate?

Inez, to see if she caught Jaxon’s attention on me.

She’s too far to be sure, but definitely watching this way. Not gonna lie, part of me hopes she sees him look at me. Is that petty? Absolutely. Do I care? Not even a little.

My eyes go back to Jaxon. He’s still looking this way, but I keep watching Inez. She’s probably excited to see him play. I hate not knowing if she’s been to a game yet. She might have. The thought of her sitting here, in these seats, makes my stomach twist.

Jameson’s on the field. I’m not paying attention to him. I can’t stop staring at Jaxon in his catcher’s gear. It fits him perfectly, like he was born to wear it. The confidence, the way he moves behind the plate, completely in control.

Even from a distance, he glances at me under his mask. I blush hard, thinking about how he moaned my name earlier.