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CHAPTER 17

GRADY

I t felt like pushing my limit when I’d texted Jill to tell her about the baseball tickets the Brawlers had secured for us. My fingers had lingered over my screen for a solid five minutes before I’d strung the words together into any sort of coherent request.

Grady: So, the team got us tickets to the Sea Dogs this Friday. They want us to make an appearance, but I got them to promise we’d only be on camera one time at the very start of the game and then not again after. I know the PR manager for the Dogs so I can absolutely guarantee we won’t be featured more than that. You in?

It had taken Jill almost an hour to respond and I was halfway through my second glass of whiskey by the time she did.

Jill: Fine.

Given the circumstances, that was as much as I expected. In fact, I’d expected her to say no outright. This was way more about PR for the Brawlers than it was the library program and she’d have been well within her rights to decline. That she didn’t made me wonder if she was doing it for me.

As if she hadn’t already done enough.

I’d avoided Joey’s most recent invites to skate with his beer league, but eventually I was going to have to face the man. However, doing that with the knowledge I now possessed of how good his sister tasted, or the spellbinding sounds she made when she came on my fingers, was going to be a challenge. I’d never had any secrets worth keeping from my friends before, but now it was like I was some criminal just waiting to be caught and punished for my crime.

My best attempts to banish the memories from my mind had failed. I’d whacked off to the sights and sounds of her coming more than was even remotely appropriate since I also spent a considerable amount of time with both her and children.

I’d never lost it over a woman. Not once in my life. It made me feel like a fucking horned up teenager, just like the moment I’d first seen her, all hot librarian and entirely off limits. But whatever powder keg we’d lit in that pool, it wasn’t out of fuel and I kept waiting for the moment I fucked everything up by making another move.

Thankfully Jill was doing her part, acting more reserved than she had been since this started. I might not have liked the change, but it helped me keep my head in the game. And I was going to need it to pull off what I’d promised the marketing team.

“So,” I started hesitantly as soon as we hit route 25 toward Portland for the game. “I think you need some media training. Some on camera time to help you get past your fear.”

Jill’s head swiveled toward me in such slow motion it creeped me out. “You what ?”

“Just go with me here,” I said, sweat already making my palms slick. “You’re helping me with so much. I’ll do anything you need to make sure the library program is a success, but this fear is holding you back. Maybe we can work on it.” I glanced over at her hopefully. “Together.”

It was a dick move to play on Jill’s feelings for me here, but I needed to get her to at least consider the idea of being on camera or we were going to have a much harsher reality to face. I’d already gotten flack for not sending in any footage from the hospital. The nurses and parents had shared on social media, and the marketing team was livid I didn’t have any footage of my own. If I didn’t start shooting us doing these events they were going to make us do the formal interview, and there was no way I’d be able to shield Jill from it.

Jill’s expression was too flat for me to read as she sat silently watching the scenery go by. It was the time of year in Maine when the leaves were still that new green, but the trees had filled out enough that sunlight was filtered and the blue-sky backdrop felt rich with possibilities. Spring in Maine was nothing short of bursting with hope.

I, however, was struggling to hold onto my hope the longer Jill took to respond.

“You want to videotape me? Doing what exactly?”

My throat was tight, but I felt like there was an opening and I leapt toward it. “We’d both need to film each other. But getting some behind the scenes footage, some candid comments, and shooting those moments that are really making this whole program what it is, you know?”

She was still side-eyeing me, but she sat back in her seat and I took a little more encouragement that she hadn’t completely shut down.

“And you think this will help me?”

“I do. You don’t like attention, and I get that. I promise, I get that more than you know. But if I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that making a choice out of fear is always the wrong one. Moving toward something is the only way to go. And your fear keeps you moving away from things. It’s holding you back, but it doesn’t have to.”

It struck me as I was trying to convince Jill, just how much I actually believed what I was saying. Sure, my motives might have been a little complicated, but the idea of Jill not living the fullest, most spectacular life because she was afraid people might see her do it was just not acceptable to me. She deserved the world, not some slimmed down version that fit inside a lens narrowed by fear.

“This sounds insane.”

“Well, you won’t have to do it alone. I’m going to need you to shoot me too.”

“You don’t mind being on camera. You’ve already mastered being photographed.”

I held my breath, feeling my advantage slipping. “Yeah, but it’s entirely different being candid on camera. I get on the ice and I don’t even see the cameras. With this, you’ll be helping me learn how to be honest and open. It’s a weakness we both have.”

Jill’s eyes narrowed at me, and I worried I’d gone too far. But nothing that I’d said was untrue. So when she recrossed her legs and turned to look out the window, I waited for the word I knew she was about to say.

“Fine.”

I hid my smirk, not that she was looking. She didn’t even glance my way the rest of the ride into Portland. But I didn’t mind. One of my first coaches at Michigan had told me, “Growth is never more uncomfortable than right before it happens.” So, I took the awful silence between us as a good sign. One way or another, neither of us were coming out of this summer the way we came in.

Normally it would have been considered a perfect day for a baseball game. The weather could not have been more dialed in. The fans were streaming into the stadium with hot dogs and fries, and the teams were warming up on the bright green grass outfield while the constant beat of cleaned-up hip hop songs bombarded us from the speakers overhead.

Even though I knew she’d been reluctant to join me, Jill looked outwardly at ease in the private box we’d been given. As the pre-game clock wound down, I settled into my seat beside her. “You ready for a quick cameo?”

She instantly frowned and I cringed. “You promise it’s just this one time?”

“I do.” I nodded my head, my eyes scanning the full stadium.

I’d never have even bothered doing this with her if I didn’t know with certainty I could control the situation. Milly Allen, the PR manager for the Sea Dogs, was an old friend, and she’d given me every assurance her camera men were going to pan to us one time as the game started and that was it. Her assistant was standing behind us on the concourse that led around the stadium, ready to give me the signal before it was our turn to be featured.

Jill wiped her hands on her thighs, her eyes flitting from one side of the field to another.

“Hey,” I whispered, taking a hold of the hand closest to me, and giving it a squeeze. “Pretend it’s just you and me.”

She huffed out a tight breath. “Not sure that’s the most relaxing image these days.” She pinned a plastic smile to her face, offering a quick wave to a little girl a few rows down from us.

When I squeezed her hand harder, she finally looked at me. “I don’t want to be something else that makes you anxious. I never wanted that.”

A flash of hurt lit up her eyes, slicing right into me. “I know. I’m sorry I said that. I’m okay.”

She wasn’t okay. But she wasn’t going to admit it and I didn’t want to tell her I was off balance too. I’d gone back to the pool twice without her, but I hadn’t been able to make it over the edge from the shallow end. For as good as the other night had been, I was starting to feel like a real dick for not keeping myself in check.

“Holy fucking shit,” she muttered, ducking her head as she glanced down at the stands below us.

“What?”

Jill’s hand started shaking, and even though I knew she was nervous, this reaction wasn’t about being on camera.

“You’re up in thirty,” a voice came from behind me as Milly’s assistant tapped me on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” I said, waving back at her while trying to figure out who or what Jill was fixated on. “We’re up next, Jilly, can you do this?” It was a smile and a wave, but at the moment she looked white as a sheet and like she was ready to run. “Jill, look at me.”

Her head swiveled and her eyes locked with mine, wide and fearful. “Yeah.”

“Just smile and wave at the camera over home plate. Okay? I’ve got you. Whatever is going on, you and me will handle it together in forty-five seconds, okay?”

She swallowed, her eyes still pinned wide and holding mine like she’d cry if I looked away. “Okay.”

I held her hand tight against her thigh, hidden behind the seat back in front of us, as we turned back toward the camera. I squeezed it in a rhythm, willing her to just breathe as the giant screen above the outfield lit up with our faces.

When I lifted my other hand to wave, she did the same. It was impossible to hear the announcer over the crowd, but the words on the screen and some images from previous events showed the reading program we were trying to promote. A couple more seconds of smiling and waving and the camera in front of us turned away and I leaned back into my seat.

Jill bolted.

“Hey, wait!” I scrambled past a couple of kids with pens in their hands looking for an autograph, catching her by the arm before she’d made it to the ramp that led to the main concourse. “Jill, what’s going on?”

“I can’t be here,” she said, her eyes on the ground, her hair falling around her face like she was hiding behind it.

“Why? What happened?” The camera bit was over, there was nothing left but watching the game. I didn’t understand why she was running.

“He’s here .”

Jill had no sooner gotten the words out of her mouth when I felt someone crowding us from the side. I pulled away to find a guy—shorter than me and rail thin with wire-rimmed glasses—with his eyes on Jill and an expectant grin that made my jaw tight.

“Jill?” he asked, reaching out to move her hair out of the way.

I swatted his hand down before he touched her, shifting to put her behind me. “Who are you?”

Her warm, slender hand closed around my bicep as she stepped up beside me. “Adam.”

One word. That’s all she said and it was like the world stopped. The urge to knock this asshole off his feet for hurting her was so strong I could almost feel his jaw against my knuckles. But I knew better than to lose control. I’d seen what I looked like when I snapped and I wasn’t proud of it. Even if this asshole deserved it.

Adam ignored me, looking only at Jill as he spoke. “I thought I saw you outside, but then when you popped up on the screen there was no room for doubt.”

The guy was talking to her as if she wasn’t white as a ghost, as if she wasn’t half-hidden behind me. Not that she’d put herself there, but it’s where she’d stay if I had anything to say about it.

“We’re doing a program for the library,” she said, her words sounding more like a robot version of her than the spirited one I’d known since I was eleven.

“I saw that. Good for you.”

My interpretation of this guy and everything he said was never going to be anything but biased, but the condescension in his tone was so clear there was no way I was imagining it. Jill didn’t seem to notice. Watching her shut down in the face of this loser was more than I could stand.

Wrapping my arm around Jill’s shoulder I dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “I think you’re giving me more credit than I deserve. That program is all you .” I gave her a nod when her gaze finally rose up to meet mine. “I’m just lucky they picked me to do it with you.”

Her eyes pinged back and forth between mine, trying to figure out what I was doing. But every word I’d said was the truth, and she shouldn’t have looked so surprised to hear them.

“So you’re still at the library then?” Adam interjected, his beady eyes on her. “Same old, same old.”

I pivoted, glaring at the asshole, as Jill’s shoulders slumped a little more. “The library values Jill and everything she brings to their programs. But loyalty doesn’t rank too high with you, does it?”

That finally drew his gaze my way. “ Who are you?”

“Grady Holloway.”

Jill straightened, piping up from beside me, “He plays for the Brawlers.”

Adam’s disapproval or disappointment or disdain—whatever it was—flashed only briefly on his face before he covered it with a slick grin and a pitying bend of his brow. “That must be nice for you.”

Giving him my widest winning smile, I held out my hand. Adam took it, his own feeble and small by comparison, as he narrowed his eyes at me. But those eyes got a hell of a lot bigger as I closed his hand in mine. My hard handshake was as far as I’d let myself take this, but it finally got this asshole to look something other than superior and unaffected. He was affected all right.

Jill’s smile got a little brighter as she turned it back up to me. “He’s going to be captain this year. I can’t wait to see him with that C on his jersey.”

My chest pinched at the pride in her voice. I didn’t want to think it was just an act, put on thanks to the appearance of this jerk. But I’d never mentioned to Jill how important captain was to me, so I had no idea why she’d said that. Whatever her reason, hearing the words come out of her mouth had my chest aching with a yearning I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before.

“Congrats?” he asked, a sort of bemused grin on his ugly face as he glanced between the two of us. It was like he was trying to piece together what we were to each other.

Fat chance figuring that out jackass, I wasn’t even sure anymore.

He shook his head dismissively. “Well, it was good seeing you out and about. Tiny steps.” When he winked at her I’d had enough.

Taking a step closer to him, I dropped my voice and spoke through a gritty smile. “Wink at my girl again, and you’ll be limping out of here. She’s no one to you now, you got me? You never knew her, and you never deserved her. So, go pretend to care about something else, and forget about her. Cause that’s exactly what she’s doing to you.”

I had no right to lay claim to Jill, but face to face with someone who’d had a shot with her once and hurt her, I was determined to never let her feel discarded again.

I wasn’t allowed to have her, but for just this minute, I was going to pretend I was.

Adam froze, smart enough to know better than to try and get around the wall my wide shoulders had put between them. He bit down, his jaw flexing on some unvoiced reply, before he shook his head and walked away.

I wasn’t sure how much of that Jill had heard—or how she’d feel about what I said—so I hesitated before I spun around. But when I did I found her grinning up at me, a little bewildered.

“Limping, huh?”

My held breath rushed out of me. “At least limping,” I said, glad she’d seen through that threat for what it was.

She dropped her head, some of her humor slipping. “You didn’t have to do that.”

I wanted to.

You deserved nothing less.

I meant every word.

“I know,” I said, anxiously licking my lips. “You would have been fine on your own. But I was happy to help.”

Jill’s shoulders bounced on a laugh. “Not sure ‘fine’ is the right word. But thank you.”

I brushed her hair from her shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. “No thanks needed, Jilly-fish.” I glanced past her at the field. “You want to get out of here?”

She looked over her shoulder and then back at me. Pushing past the last of her anxiety, she replied, “Nah. It’s a good day for a game.”

As Jill headed back to our seats, I followed, feeling a little bewildered myself. She hated sports. But as we got into the game, cheering with the crowd and doing the wave when it came our way, it was easy to forget how unlike her this was.

I started to wonder how much more there was of her I didn’t know or that would surprise me. Because we had more fun at that game than I’d ever had watching the Sea Dogs play and by the time we left I’d completely lost track of the score. I was competitive by nature and always wanted to win. But that afternoon it felt like I already had.