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CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

FORD

Four days.

Three games.

Two cities.

The same word on my baseline.

Love.

And yet, no matter how hard I try to manifest a solution, or a positive attitude, I can’t seem to manage either.

My knuckles turn white where I clutch my phone as I read Soph’s messages two more times, then swipe over to where Juliet still hasn’t responded to my good morning text.

Fuck.

Is this really happening?

I thought—shit, I don’t know what I thought, but she said she was mine. Excuse me for believing that meant something.

It never crossed my mind she’d consider leaving New York after that sweeping declaration.

No, not New York.

Me.

I thought we had something. Fuck, we do have something. I just can’t figure out if she’s scared or maybe I read all the signs wrong.

I thought she just needed space.

That’s normal. Healthy even.

But if she wants to go, I need to let her.

Right?

It would be wrong of me to beg her to stay.

My heart continues to crack every time I think of a life without Juliet in it.

Soph is right. Depressed Ford has absolutely entered the chat.

Fuck, I hope Juliet doesn’t go.

Then again, maybe I’m not meant to keep people. It’s not fair, but all the people I want to stay in my life end up leaving me. At least if she goes to California, she’s still alive—unlike the rest.

“Alright, McCoy. What the fuck is going through that head of yours?”

Not bothering to lift my head, I side-eye Carson as he plops into the seat usually occupied by Kiefer when we take over away locker rooms.

“I’m fine,” I snap, but even I can hear the way my voice drips with lies.

Carson cocks a brow. “Are you sure? Because you’ve written love on that baseline every single game we’ve been on the road, but unlike in New York, there’s no light behind your eyes.”

I pin a pointed glare that’s meant to say, it’s none of your damn business , but Carson, ever the Meddlesome Mildred, either doesn’t catch it or doesn’t care.

Probably the second.

“Okay. What I meant is, you’ve been sucking and sulking, and I’m trying to figure out why.” He could stop there, but of course he doesn’t. He inhales and continues. “Because as your co-captain, it’s my job to care, and really, I’ve got nothing better to do since I’m not pitching tonight. So, I’ve decided your problems are my problems, and we’re going to fix them.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re right. You definitely shouldn’t be watching the batters and studying them for the next time we face Philly.”

“I’m great at multitasking,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, and I’m not sure he realizes how suggestive that sounds.

Then again, it’s Carson. Maybe he does.

One thing I know for sure is he’s not going to leave this alone.

I let out a sigh and level with him, handing him my phone. “Something is up with Juliet. And then I just got these messages from Soph, asking what the hell happened which leads me to believe she’s considering moving.”

Carson scans the texts, and I swear the corner of his mouth twitches up before forming a straight line. “I see. When is she leaving?”

“I have no idea.” I toss my hands up, frustrated. “For all I know, she’ll be gone when I get home.”

He hands my phone back to me and crosses one leg over the other, resting his elbow on his knee like he’s my damn therapist. “What happened? Is it because of the article?”

That damn article. It’s made my life a living hell the last four days. Thank God, Juliet is in New York and safe at the Row. These reporters have been ruthless, asking questions, demanding answers like they deserve a front row seat to the most intimate details of my life.

“Fuck that article.” Venom laces every word I spit. “I really wish someone would get that publication some writers who give a shit about sports and not just whatever drama they can spin for clicks.”

Carson shrugs. “You’re right, but they can’t all be like Sports Now .”

At least there’s one sports broadcast company that actually gives a shit about what we do.

“It’s not just the article, though,” I continue with a sigh. “Juliet has taken that front like a champ. She’s even said not to worry because they’d get over it eventually.” Though I’m not convinced she meant it. Juliet has been one to downplay her concerns, especially where things pertaining to Tyler are concerned.

“So, tell me what's happened,” Carson says, stroking his chin like he’s absolutely loving this. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m kind of a love connoisseur.”

My head tilts to the side, and I arch a brow. He can’t be fucking serious.

“No, really. Ask Bishop.” My teammate uncrosses his legs and elbows Bishop on the other side of him. “Tell him, Bish. Tell him how I’m basically the reason you and Willow ended up together.”

“You're right.” Bishop rolls his eyes and continues lacing up his cleats. “It definitely wasn’t because Luca helped us clear Willow’s dad’s name or anything like that.”

“Sure,” Carson argues. “But who told you to shit or get off the pot and go to her house after the big blow-up?”

Bishop’s shoulders fall, and I can tell it pains him to concede. “Fine. I’ll give you that one.”

“Nope.” Carson grins and crosses his arms over his jersey. “Say it.”

“Ugh.” Bishop presses his fingers to his temples and shakes his head before ultimately giving in. “Carson is the reason Willow and I ended up together.”

“See?” Carson smiles and slaps my arm with the back of his hand. “There you have it. Love connoisseur. Now tell me what’s going on with Etta.”

I grimace. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that name. Especially coming from my teammates.

Bishop leans forward so he can see past Carson. “You're having trouble with Etta?”

I glare daggers at Carson. Did we really have to announce it to the whole team?

“Wait, what about Etta?” Smitty chimes in from the other side of Bishop.

Fuck. What is this? Renegade gossip hour?

I press my hands to my knees and stand quickly, turning on the three of them. “Listen, I’m not having anything with anyone because none of it was even supposed to happen.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bishop asks.

Shit. I’ve said too much.

My mind spins as I try to backpedal. “This wasn’t—I was just supposed to—fuck. I can’t even tell you guys because I don’t want to betray Juliet’s trust.”

“That’s admirable.” Smitty nods, his brows furrowing as he commits my words to memory like he does any sort of advice given to him on the field.

“Okay, don’t tell us what’s going on,” Carson huffs, clearly annoyed by my answer while Bishop only nods. “But do answer us this: Is she the girl for you?”

“Without a doubt,” I say immediately, locking my eyes with Bishop’s. “Remember how you said when you know you know? Well, I know. Juliet is everything.”

Bishop smiles, then opens his mouth to say something, but Carson beats him to it.

“Then what the hell are you waiting for? You’ve got to tell her.” He jumps to his feet, steps forward, and loops his arm in mine like we’re Dorthy and the fucking Scarecrow.

“Right now?” I mumble, tripping over my feet as I try to keep up with the way he’s tugging me toward the hall that leads to the dugout.

“The way I see it, you’ve got two choices.” Carson reasons, still dragging me by the arm. “Tell her or don’t, but you’ve got to fucking commit.”

My eyes dart around the clubhouse, looking for anyone to help get me out of this situation, but none of my teammates lift a finger.

“Carson, we have a game in an hour. I need to be focusing on that, not figuring out how to tell Juliet I want her to stay.”

“You can’t do one without the other.”

“Wait.” I yank my arm back. “Why are we heading to the field?”

Fans are already filling in their seats, and the last place I want to be is anywhere someone might ask a stupid question or tell an obscene lie about Juliet.

“Better reception up there.” Carson scoffs like it’s a stupid question altogether. “And it’s less noisy than the locker room.”

“I can’t make a phone call from?—”

Carson spins on me, eyes full of mischief. “Would you just fucking trust me?”

I’ve always known Carson was a bag of chaos, but he might just be losing it.

A disgruntled sigh heaves from my chest, and I don’t have the will to fight. Not when it could lead to getting Juliet back.

Lifting my hand, I gesture toward the tunnel. “Lead the way then.”

“Gladly.”

It doesn’t take long before we’re climbing the steps to the dugout, and I’m hit with the sounds of the stadium coming to life.

It might not be home, but there will always be something about stepping into a dugout or out on a field that sparks a fire in my soul.

Only, just like every other time on this trip, the spark doesn’t do more than flicker.

Carson jumps the steps two at a time, leading onto the warning track.

“Wait,” I protest. “Can’t I just call from the dugout?”

“ Psssh . As if I’d let you make a declaration of love from the sidelines.”

I swear if there’s ever a day when Carson is in love, I can’t wait for payback. It will be swift. And fierce. And I’m ninety percent sure Bishop will be on board to help me.

Shaking my head, I follow him out to the third base coach’s box. He’s got a stupid ass grin stretched across his face.

I’m almost there when my eyes fall to the foul line. More specifically, the dirt.

My dirt.

Only instead of a blank canvas for me to work with, there’s already a word etched in delicate loops in the clay. Actually, it’s three words.

I love you.

Anger courses through me as I fist my hand at my sides and debate if I could get away with decking my teammate without anyone in the stadium noticing.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Carson. I’d never fuck with one of your superstitions.”

And to write that.

What the fuck kind of love connoisseur does he think he is?

“Hey asshole, look up,” he says from beside me, no longer standing in the box.

I follow his instructions, and immediately, every ounce of my anger dissipates.

There, standing where Carson was moments ago, is Juliet. In an orange sundress that matches the stitching on my uniform, she’s smiling with her arm held out toward me. Hanging from her finger is what looks like a necklace with some kind of dark crystal at the end.

“Love?” I whisper, like if I say it any louder, it might turn out she’s just a figment of my imagination.

Her lips pull into a smile and she nods. “I can’t commit to a stone inside a ring just yet, but I figured finding a rock for you might suffice. One you can take with you when you leave home.”

It’s all the encouragement I need to close the space between us and wrap her up in my arms. She lets out a whimpered sigh and leans in, the curve of her body fitting perfectly against mine. Like it was always meant to be there.

“I missed you, Juliet.”

Juliet tenses, and I fear maybe she didn’t want me to touch her like this in front of a stadium full of people.

“Sorry,” I mutter, untangling myself from her. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No, that’s not—I missed you too,” she admits almost sheepishly. “The crystal was just poking into my stomach.”

“Oh.” I laugh as I reach down and finger what I can now see is an obelisk shaped dark red stone wrapped in a thin leather strap to keep it attached. “It’s garnet,” I say, borderline embarrassed by how much I know about crystals, thanks to this woman.

“It symbolizes passionate love.”

“And is that what we have?” The words slip out—vulnerable, broken and fearful.

“I wouldn’t have shown up and—how did you put it?—fucked with your superstition, if I didn’t think there was something there.”

“Shit, that’s not what I meant. It’s just?—”

Juliet laughs and the sound of it is like hitting a home run. “I know, Ford.”

“Do you mean it?” I ask, almost wary of her answer. “Do you love me? Because if you give me that stone, there are no take backs.”

“Ford McCoy.” She pauses and takes my hands in hers, and I have to ignore the fact that the way we’re standing is oddly similar to two people getting married. Add in the garnet and my teammates, who have now gathered along the dugout wall, giggling like schoolgirls, I’d say this is looking more and more like a planned moment.

My eyes slide over to Carson, who is clapping his hands in front of his chest between nudges to Bishop’s arm.

Yup. Totally planned.

And even though I’ve got a million questions, I’m hanging on her every word.

Juliet tips her head and looks up at me, her gaze sliding from my lips up to my eyes. “I can’t promise you forever yet. I can’t even promise you that I won’t have moments where I get scared and need your reassurance, or for you to teach me a lesson or two. But I can say with every confidence that I love you, and I want all the things with you.”

“Tell me,” I mutter, searching for a moment for my mind to catch up with my racing heart.

She gives my hands a gentle squeeze and whispers low enough that only we can hear her words. “I want lazy mornings with you. I want Lodhi to continue curling up on your chest even though we both know he still hates you a little. I want holidays and birthdays with the friends who have become family. I want to explore my body with you and make yours weep for me. I want the safety of your arms to land when the past creeps in and days are hard. But most of all, I want to show you the love and kindness you’ve always shown me. I want you to date me and only me.”

Yes.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

A million times, yes.

But of course, that’s not what I say.

“What about your parents?” My fears shine through, tumbling out before I can bite them back. “Soph said you asked to work remotely. How’s this going to work if you move back to California?”

“Is that what you thought?” Her words hold a hint of accusation, but she gives my hands a reassuring squeeze as I nod. “Shit. I’m sorry. I should have clarified with Sophia. I’m going to visit my parents. They weren’t thrilled about everything, especially us, but this is my life. Not theirs.”

“Fuck, I’m so proud of you,” I say softly.

“Will you still mean that if I tell you that I am planning on moving out of the Row when I get back?”

My gut plummets just a little. “You don’t want to live with me?”

“I do.” Her confidence doesn’t waver, and it’s beautiful. “But I also know we’ve moved really fast, and I absolutely want all the things with you. Right now, that means learning to be me in my own space and dating you for reals.”

Damn it. I can’t even be mad at that answer.

My brow lifts. “Do we still get to have sleepovers?”

“All the sleepovers.”

“Then it doesn’t matter to me where you live as long as you’re mine.” I lift my hand and cup her jaw, running my thumb over her cheek. “And I’m still so damn proud of you.”

“I wouldn’t have had the strength to stand up to them or make these decisions if it wasn’t for you.” She leans into my touch, and I love being her stability. “But I do need to face the consequences of my actions, and that means reforging a relationship with my parents. Which is why I am going to visit them for a few weeks after the game tonight.”

“As in, you’re coming back, right?”

I’m an idiot. And Sophia is going to get an earful for not asking more questions.

Juliet nods and the weight on my chest lifts, allowing me to breathe freely for the first time since leaving New York.

“I just didn’t want to leave without making sure I talked with you. And then when I called Carson and told him my plan, he helped me make it happen.”

Oh, I will so be paying that asshole back someday.

“It was supposed to be after the game,” Juliet explains. “But Carson let me know you needed me now.”

“I—” Fuck, maybe I owe the jerk. “I don’t know whether I want to kiss you or be angry at all of you for keeping this from me.”

“Kiss me.” She steps forward and wraps her arms around my neck. “Definitely kiss me.”

My hands shake as I pull her against me and lower my lips until they’re a hair's breadth away from hers. “I love you, Juliet Cruz.”

“And I love you, Ford McCoy.”

It’s the sweetest declaration I’ve ever heard, only minorly fucked up by my anxiety.

But I’ll take it.

“Say it again,” I murmur.

“I love you.” Her lips brush mine with each word. “Now kiss me.”

“As you wish.”

I press my lips to hers, fully intending to keep it chaste, but Juliet has other plans.

She nips the bottom of my lip hard, forcing a moan from the back of my throat. The second my mouth opens, she deepens the kiss, tangling her tongue with mine. And her tongue. Holy shit, it’s only been four days, but I’d almost forgotten how warm and responsive it is to mine.

I’m lost in Juliet’s kiss when the sound of the crowd erupts in applause.

At first, I think it’s just my teammates, but as seconds pass, I realize it’s much too loud to be just the Renegades.

Juliet smiles against my lips, and gives a sly look toward the scoreboard jumbotron where our faces are plastered on the giant screen. “Well, I guess everyone knows now.”

My spine steels with the need to protect her. “Are you okay with that?”

Before Juliet can answer, someone calls my name from just beyond the dugout. She’s a tall brunette with dark-rimmed glasses and a whimsical smile on her face that tells me she just witnessed everything and is a whole-hearted romantic. What worries me is the badge around her neck— Sports Now . She’s a reporter, and while she’s not with The Foul Line, that doesn’t mean I trust her as far as I could throw her.

I move to step in front of Juliet, but she places her hand on my chest and stops me.

The brunette takes the free moment to shoot her shot. “Are you Julietta Martinez? Or is it, Etta?”

There’s no accusation in the reporter's voice, but I don’t like that she’s talking to Juliet or the questions she’s asking.

Maybe I’m being the overprotective Hulk, but I can’t help it.

Apparently, my team can’t either because Bishop, Carson, and Smitty all take a step out of the dugout toward the reporter.

Juliet waves us all off and steps forward.

“I’m only going to go on the record saying any of this once, and only because you aren’t with The Foul Line , so I suggest you pay attention and record this or whatever it is you need to do.”

The brunette leans in and lifts the small recording microphone in her hand. “Go on.”

“My name is Juliet Cruz.”

My mouth gapes, and my heart fucking soars.

Not Etta.

Juliet.

My name for her.

“Yes, I was the wife of Tyler Martinez, former member of the Renegades. Yes, I disappeared for a period of time after his death. No, I will not be commenting on the details surrounding that. Yes, I am dating Ford McCoy. Yes, he was at one time my late husband’s stepbrother. No, I will not be taking any comments, thoughts, or criticisms on my choice to be with him. He’s one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”

Fuck. That was—I don’t think anyone has ever claimed me so publicly or so thoroughly.

The reporter smiles and Juliet adds. “Oh, and my dress is from Target and has pockets in case anyone wants to know.”

I wrap my arm around Juliet and press a kiss to her temple, but really, it’s so I can hide any evidence of the raging hard on beneath my cup. Sliding my lips to the shell of her ear, I whisper, “I hope you know that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Juliet chuckles and leans into my touch.

“Thank you for giving me a moment of your time, Ms. Cruz.” The brunette sets the microphone down and offers Juliet her hand. “I’m Lennon by the way, and off the record, I love that you’re speaking out and not letting that trash publication win.”

Juliet’s cheeks tinge pink, still not used to receiving praise. “Thanks.”

I snake my arm around her waist and turn her toward my team, waiting for us outside the dugout. The stadium is now close to full, and we’re inching closer to pregame ritual time and the national anthem.

As we reach the guys, Carson crosses his arms. The epitome of calm cool, and collected on the outside, but I’d bet money he’s losing it below the surface.

“So,” he says, “are you guys official?”

“That depends,” Juliet muses. “Are you going to take credit?”

Carson presses his hand to his heart and tips his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear, Etta.”

A Cheshire grin pulls at her lips. “It’s Juliet.”

“Juliet,” Carson rolls the name over his tongue, and I’m back to wanting to deck him. “I like it.”

“I do too,” I admit, softly.

A few of the guys let loose a whoop and cheer, even though they don’t quite understand the weight of her name change.

“It was time,” Juliet says, looking up at me with happy brown eyes sparkling under the stadium lights. “From now on, life is what we make of it.”

I press a kiss to her lips and smile. “Well then, Juliet my love, let’s make it the best.”