Page 50 of Playing Hard to Hate

GRIFFIN

PRESENT

The morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a soft golden hue over the room. Tate was still curled up against me, her head resting on my chest, her breath warm against my skin. For the first time in two days, she looked peaceful. Safe . And I wanted to keep it that way.

I tightened my arm around her, pulling her closer as I pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the curve of her neck. She stirred slightly, letting out a sleepy hum but not waking up just yet.

Smirking, I did it again, dragging my lips up to her jaw, letting my stubble graze her soft skin. “Wake up, baby girl,” I murmured, my voice still rough from sleep.

She groaned, nuzzling deeper into my chest. “Too early,” she mumbled.

I chuckled. “It’s not that early. And I need to ask you something.”

Her lashes fluttered open, green eyes still heavy with sleep as she looked up at me. “What? ”

I brushed a strand of hair out of her face, letting my fingers linger on her cheek. “Come to the game tonight.”

I saw the hesitation in her eyes before she glanced away, chewing on her bottom lip.

“I don’t know, Griff…there are bruises on my arms and a mark on my neck.” Her voice was hesitant, uncertain. “After everything that happened, I don’t know if I should be in the middle of all that attention. What if the press?—”

“Screw the press,” I interrupted gently. “They don’t get a say in what you do. You love baseball, Tate. I see it every time you watch me play. Don’t let them take that from you.”

She exhaled slowly, then reached for her phone on the nightstand. “I haven’t checked my socials since everything happened. Maybe I should see what’s out there before I decide.”

I hated that she felt like she had to do that. Hated that she was bracing for whatever storm was waiting for her online. But I didn’t stop her. She needed her freedom, and I wouldn’t take it from her.

She unlocked her phone, her dark brows furrowing as she scrolled through her notifications. Her breathing hitched.

“What is it?” I asked, shifting so I could see her screen.

There were hundreds of messages, comments, and tags. But it wasn’t the usual toxic garbage that the media threw her way.

Tate, are you okay?

We’re thinking of you. Stay strong.

Don’t let them break you, queen.

You’re so much more than the headlines.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she scrolled. “They’re…worried about me?”

I took the phone from her hand and set it aside, cupping her face so she had no choice but to look at me. “Of course they are. People who actually care about you? They see past the bullshit.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes glistening with emotion. “I don’t know what to do, Griff. My following has grown so much since the press started posting about us. I thought it was all fake. I didn’t realize they actually liked me,” she whispered, admitting the truth.

I kissed her forehead. “You’re an inspiration to a lot of young women out there, Tate. You don’t have to decide right now. I just want you to think about it. You’re my good luck charm, and tonight is the last game.”

She nodded slowly, resting her head back against my chest. I held her tighter, silently praying she would find the courage to show up tonight. Because if there was ever a moment, I needed her there, it was now.

Sitting in my car outside the stadium, I pressed my phone to my ear, my fingers drumming anxiously against the steering wheel as I waited for Millie to pick up. If she didn’t hurry up, I would be late.

The call rang four times before she answered, her voice breathless. “Is she okay?”

I huffed out a small laugh. “Did I interrupt something?”

Millie scoffed. “Just my fucking class. I damn near sprinted out of the room when I saw your name pop up.”

“I need you to go to my house, get her ready, and be at the game in an hour. Jaxon’s wife, Logan, will be waiting for you. I’ve already informed security and my agent that I’ll have two guests.”

Millie hesitated. “Griffin…”

I sighed, already anticipating the pushback.

“When we spoke yesterday, she didn’t want me to come over yet, and she definitely didn’t sound up to being in public,” she said, her voice laced with concern.

“Millie, please. I need her there.” My grip tightened around the steering wheel, my chest constricting at the thought of playing this game without Tate in the stands.

She sighed heavily on the other end. “I’ll do my best, but I won’t promise to perform miracles.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

“Good, because convincing her to leave that luxurious penthouse of yours might take divine intervention,” she muttered. “I’ll call you if I can’t make progress.”

“Thanks, Mills. I owe you.”

“You so do,” she quipped. “And it’s Millie to you.”

I exhaled, staring at the stadium ahead. Now, we just had to win this damn game.

The locker room buzzed with an electric mix of nerves and adrenaline, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface.

Some guys sat with their heads down, earphones in, locked into their own rituals, like Graham.

Others paced, stretching, shaking out their limbs like they could physically expel the tension from their bodies.

Hunter was murmuring softly to himself as he paced, nerves getting the better of him.

Jaxon Dexter, our leader, stood in the center of it all, his presence commanding as he ran a hand through his dark hair. The room naturally quieted, everyone turning their attention to him.

“This is it,” Jaxon started, his voice steady, carrying the weight of the moment. “We’ve been grindin’ all season for this . Every extra rep, every early mornin’, every late-night flight…it all comes down to tonight.” His gaze swept over us, making sure each of us felt the gravity of his words.

“Every guy in this room knows what it’s like to bleed for this game.

We’ve been knocked down, counted out, and still, we made it here.

And now? Now, we finish this.” He clenched his jaw, eyes blazing with determination.

“We don’t back down. We don’t hesitate. We leave it all out on that field, and we win . ”

A chorus of agreement rumbled through the room. Jaxon nodded once before stepping back, and I took a deep breath, rolling out my shoulders. The weight of the night pressed against me, but I welcomed it.

I met Jaxon’s gaze as he turned toward me, and for a moment, the noise around us dulled. “Hell of a speech, Jax,” I said, my voice low but firm. “Last one, huh?”

His lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile I’d seen from him all day. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Last one.”

I swallowed against the tightness in my throat, nodding. “Let’s make sure you go out on top.”

He clapped a hand against my shoulder, squeezing briefly before stepping back. “Damn right. Your hand is good?” he asked softly, glancing at my bruised knuckles.

“Never been better.”

My phone vibrated against the bench beside me. I grabbed it, my heart kicking up as I saw Logan’s name flash across the screen.

Logan

She’s here. With me and the girls. She looks nervous, but she came, Griff.

Relief flooded my chest, and I exhaled, a slow grin tugging at my lips.

“Tate’s here,” I murmured under my breath.

Jaxon caught my eye from across the room, his expression knowing. “Good,” he said simply. “Now, let’s go win this thin’.”

The room erupted in shouts and claps, guys pounding fists against their gloves, hyping each other up. I shoved my phone into my locker and stood, my body vibrating with energy.

It was time.

The stadium was electric, the roar of the crowd vibrating through my bones as I stepped onto the field. The weight of the moment settled over me, but it wasn’t fear—it was fire. This was what we lived for, what we fought for.

The game was brutal from the start. Every pitch, every swing, every play mattered. The other team came out aggressive, making it clear they weren’t just going to roll over and let us take the title.

By the seventh inning, we were tied. My jersey clung to my back, sweat dripping from my temples.

I stood in center field alongside Graham and Hunter, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Jaxon had already told us in the locker room this was his last game. We were playing for him .

Top of the ninth. Two outs. One more and we were champions.

Our closer, Reyes, stood on the mound, exhaling slow. The batter was dangerous, the kind who could change everything with one swing.

The pitch came in, a fastball, low.

Crack.

The ball shot into the air, deep into center.

I was already moving.

I sprinted, Graham on my left, Hunter on my right. The lights above blurred as I tracked the ball, my legs burning, my lungs heaving.

Mine .

I reached, glove outstretched. It landed perfectly in my hand as the stadium exploded .

I barely had time to process before Graham and Hunter tackled me, sending us crashing onto the grass in a mess of limbs and shouts of victory.

“We fucking did it!” Hunter roared, punching my chest. We made it all the way from Little League.

I laughed, rolling onto my back, the weight of the moment slamming into me. Champions. We were champions .

Jaxon was the first to reach us, pulling us to our feet and crushing us in a hug. “Hell of a last game, boys.” His voice was hoarse, filled with emotion.

The field became chaos. Reporters. Cameras. Fans screaming. But none of it mattered.

I needed to find her.

Shoving through the bodies, I searched desperately. And then I saw her.

Tate.

She stood near the front, hands clasped over her mouth, eyes shimmering with tears. Millie was bouncing and screaming, while Logan grinned beside her, holding a very happy Kane.

I didn’t think. I just ran.

Vaulting over the railing, I pushed through the crowd until I reached her.

She barely had time to react before I grabbed her, lifting her off the ground, crashing my lips onto hers.

The world faded.

The noise. The lights. The thousands of people.

It was just her.

She gasped against my mouth, her fingers tangling in my sweat-damp hair.

I pulled back, pressing my forehead to hers. “You came. ”

A watery laugh broke from her lips. “You won!” she cried, smacking my chest.

Grinning, I cupped her face. “Told you I would. All because of you. My lucky charm.”

Millie let out a whoop, smacking Tate’s shoulder. “Holy shit. This is some ESPN Top Ten kind of romance.”

Tate’s laughter was soft, eyes locked on mine. “You did it, Fin.”

I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “ We did it.”

Her breath hitched, something raw flashing in her eyes.

“Now kiss her again so we can get this on camera!” Millie yelled.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Chuckling, I shook my head. “You heard her.”

Tate rolled her eyes but smiled, and when I kissed her again, slow and deep, it was a promise.

This wasn’t just a win.

This was everything.