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6

B rooks

Thinking Michelle and I had incredible chemistry was one thing, but to find out I actually liked her made it all the worse. My plan to get her to admit that what we had was incredible wasn’t working—it was just bringing back old feelings I tried to bury after how things ended.

Like how she treated my mom after her shift and didn’t look at me with pity, or the kind tone she used with her, or how her face seemed to light up with energy when she talked about nursing. She hid her feelings like they were underneath armor, but pieces of her had slipped out that day at the hospital, and I wanted more.

I had two nights with her—the rehearsal dinner and the wedding—and my plan backfired in a split second when she opened the door to her place to let me in. “Hey, Brooks.”

“Michelle…” I said, trying my best to be friendly with her. I always knew she was gorgeous, but seeing her dressed up like this killed me. She ushered me in and reapplied red lipstick, smacking her lips in the mirror in her hallway before grabbing a small bag. “Okay, Bummy. You’re either my DD tonight, or we take a car home.”

Her use of we had my mind instantly picturing her naked in my bed with that dark brown hair spread out, but I nodded instead of sharing that information with her. “Agreed.”

She eyed my dark gray button-up shirt and charcoal suit jacket and jeans with an appreciative nod. “You look handsome, B.”

Her old nickname for me. “Thank you.” My voice came out hoarse, and I cleared my throat before replying, “You look great.”

She raised her eyebrows and smirked. “Just great?”

“Fishing for a compliment, friend ?” I let the word slide off my tongue with a little bitterness because Michelle was a walking wet dream with her dark green dress that hugged her hips, showcased her legs, and teased me with her ample cleavage. She had her curly hair in her signature half-up, half down look that suited her so well. She looked incredible, but she knew that. “Great is a compliment.”

“Mm hmm.” She pursed those red lips, and I wanted to kiss the subtle arrogance off her. My chest heaved when she ran a finger down my tie and stopped right above my belt. There was a brief moment where I thought she might continue going south. Her mouth was slightly parted, and a delicate blush started high on her cheeks. Her slender neck smelled like flowers, and I clenched my fists at my sides. Friends. Just friends. She looked up at me through her crazy long eyelashes and forgot to put up her walls she was so good at constructing.

I saw need and lust.

“Michelle,” I warned her, moving my hand to cup her chin. “Friends don’t look at each other like this.”

“True.” She hummed and winked. “Forgive me. This is new for me, trying to be friends with someone I’ve slept with. I don’t know the rules yet.”

“Fuck, I don’t either.” I squeezed her chin and ran my thumb over her bottom lip, hating how much I wanted to suck it, but then I stopped. “Let’s head out before we do something you’ll regret.”

“Something that I’ll regret? Not you?”

“I meant what I said. Now get your fine ass outside, Mitch. If I have to look at you all night without touching, I need a drink. A stiff one.”

“Now that is a compliment.” She laughed and locked her shitty apartment door before weaving her arm through mine. The place had the same wear and tear from two years earlier, and the fake paneling was peeling from the walls around her unit. I didn’t like the fact that there weren’t lights or cameras anywhere in sight, and I noted the smell of weed. I wanted to say something about it but knew she'd get defensive. When we first started hooking up, we always came here because I didn’t want her to know I played baseball, and find out she was a gold digger.

But it was immediately clear she was as independent as hell, almost too stubborn about it, and then we switched to hooking up at my place.

I hated that she lived in this place but I’d never speak a word of it.

She’d just push me further away. She was stubborn to a fault, and while I admired the quality, it was also a point of contention. Michelle did what she wanted.

I held her hand that rested on my forearm and squeezed it. She giggled and leaned into me before saying, “I don’t tend to toy with men, but with you…it’s thrilling.”

“Such an honor to amuse you,” I deadpanned and led us to my car before opening the passenger door of the Lexus. “I never took you for cruel. Sexy, yes, cruel, no.”

She made a sound in the back of her throat and swatted at me. “Need I remind you, B, you coerced your way into being my date and infiltrated my friend group. I was perfectly content going solo where we could’ve avoided all this…tension.”

“This is your payback? Torturing me?”

Her responding grin was answer enough, and I hopped in and started the drive toward the venue. It was weird having her in my car, before we’d met only at our apartments. We’d never gone on dates. Anytime I tried, she’d decline and distract me with her body. I knew every inch of her physically, but emotionally? I knew next to zilch about her and I wanted to know more. Like how she’d learned to be so kind to patients,why her brother needed money, and why the hell did she slam the door on me. I shook my head and focused on something she would actually answer. “So why nursing?”

She whipped her attention to me and pursed her full red lips. “Just always wanted to be one.”

“You were incredible last week when we ran into you, and…it’s not an easy profession. I’d love to hear why you got interested in it.”

She rubbed her lips together as one of her hands formed a fist on her lap. She’s worried. “Every time I talked to one as a kid, I admired them. They worked long shifts and always had an encouraging thing to say. One nurse, Candace, didn’t have to be so nice to me when my family…went through some things. But she was, and she changed my life.”

Don’t ask about her family. Don’t. She’ll pull away. “It’s wild how one event can stand out in your life and totally change your path.”

“Did that happen to you? With baseball?”

“Yes.” I smiled. “My grandfather would watch my brother and me, and the day he bought me a glove…well, that was it. I carried that thing around me everywhere and demanded whoever was with me play catch. I still have it, and it faintly smells of cigars and leather. It might be cheesy, but I bring it with me all season so I can have a little piece of home on the road, you know?”

“That’s touching, Brooks.” She let out a little laugh. “Truly. I know it’s not the same as your story, but that nurse I mentioned? I asked her how I could be a nurse, and she squatted down and looked me in the eyes and said, study hard, work harder and be kind. I carry that motto with me in everything I do.”

“I love it.” I reached out to pat her knee but stopped myself and clenched my fist. The less physical contact, the better. “You’re going to make one hell of a nurse. Your smile will cheer even the crankiest patient, and they won’t know what to do with you.”

“No need to butter me up to try to get in my pants, Brooks.” Her voice wasn’t as hard as it normally was, and I knew my comment pleased her. The woman couldn’t take a compliment unless it was something physical, and I was going to change that with our friendship.

“I meant everything I said. From what I know of you, you’re a strong woman. You impressed the hell out of me with my mom.” I stopped the rush of emotions around her and changed gears. “Getting you into bed wasn’t my intention, but I guaran-damn-tee, if I try to get into your pants, I will succeed, Mitch. I’m respecting your wishes.” I snuck a glance at her, and my throat tightened at the surprise in her expression. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah. I am.”

Her voice had steadied, but something about the way she crossed her legs slow and deliberate. She made me pause. She knew exactly what she was doing.

And damn it, I noticed. We were at a stop light and I took advantage of that. I looked at her. Really looked.

My gaze skated down her legs, taking in the curve of her calves, the smooth way she moved. It was an invitation and a warning, all at once.

She arched a brow at me, waiting.

I smirked. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.

“How’s your mom feeling, by the way?” she asked, her voice softening, her expression shifting into something gentler.

“She’s good.” I forced my mind back on track, shaking off the distraction of her legs, her mouth, the way her perfume still fucked with my head. “Her ankle swelling’s gone down, and she’s walking fine now.”

I felt the tension curl in my shoulders, waiting for her to bring up the other thing—the one that twisted my insides—but she didn’t.

Instead, she sighed, studying me with a look that made my chest tighten.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she murmured, “but you’re not like most baseball players I’ve met.”

I exhaled, relieved. The heavy topic had vanished before it could settle between us. “You hang out with the wrong ones,” I said, laughing.

She shrugged, running a hand through her hair. “I try not to make a habit of it. But being friends with Fiona makes it tough. The constant spotlight, the attention. it just seems exhausting.” Her lip curled slightly, her nose scrunching as she added, “The money must be worth it to have your name all over the media.”

That tone.

There was a story there, buried beneath the sharp bite of her words, and I filed it away in my ever-growing list of Facts I Needed to Figure Out About Michelle.

I let the comment hang for a second, then replied carefully. “Some athletes crave attention and fame. Think of the ones who make headlines for partying, million-dollar contracts, issues with women, and other scandals.” I glanced at her. “But there are thousands of baseball players, and only a select few make the media in the way you’re describing.”

She hummed, tapping her nails lightly against her thigh. “Are you like that?”

I let out a short laugh, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. “You’ve never Googled me?”

She didn’t even blink. “Not once. I never Google anybody.”

That was interesting.

Something about the way she said it, firm and almost defensive, didn’t quite sit right. I studied her, trying to pin it down.

“You really meant it back then,” I murmured, “when you said you didn’t give a shit what my last name was.”

She chuckled, low and easy. “Yup. I didn’t even realize you were an athlete until spring training started.”

That made me smile before I blurted out, “Is that why you ended things so suddenly?”

Shit.

The second I said it, I wanted to take it back.

Michelle went still for half a second, so fast anyone else would’ve missed it, before forcing out a breath.

“No, it’s a fair question,” she said, though her voice was too even. Too careful.

She shifted in her seat, rubbing her palms along her thighs before sitting up a little straighter.

“I felt it ran its course,” she said simply.

Bullshit .

I let the words sit between us, waiting to see if she’d say more.

She didn’t.

“So your… relationships have a timeline?” I asked instead, watching her carefully while keeping us safe driving.

She smiled, but there was no real warmth behind it. “It wasn’t a relationship.”

“Right. An arrangement.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Yes. And they expire when I feel they get to a certain point.”

Something hot and bitter settled in my gut. “You’ve always been this way?”

She shot me a look. “You sound skeptical.”

“No,” I said, leaning forward. “Just… curious.”

She huffed out a short laugh, but I could see the tension in her shoulders, in the way she clenched her fingers together.

“There’s nothing wrong with not doing relationships,” she said, voice firm. “When men have flings, they’re considered players. They get respect for it. But when I do it, I get condescending looks and backhanded judgments.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers twisting in her lap. “The fact that I like sex and refuse to be in a relationship doesn’t make me a bad person,” she continued, voice quiet but sure. “I’m sick of the double standard.”

I had so many fucking questions. But I knew better than to ask them when she was already looking like she was ready to jump out of the car.

“Mitch,” I said, keeping my voice steady, soft, “I’m not judging you whatsoever.”

She lifted a brow, skeptical.

I smirked. “From what I recall, you were very upfront about what we were.”

“I always am.”

Her lips twitched, a flicker of mischief flashing through her eyes. “Again, I don’t tend to play games with men—unless it’s torturing you, apparently.”

That earned a laugh out of me.

She sighed just as I pulled into the valet parking line, her fingers tapping against her knee like she was holding back something she wasn’t willing to say. I tossed my manners out the window and placed my hand on her thigh.

Her breath hitched.

One.

Two.

Three seconds passed, her skin warm beneath my palm, but she didn’t pull away.

Not yet.

“One question for you, and I’ll leave it alone,” I murmured, waiting for her to nod before continuing.

“Do you ever catch feelings for anyone?”

She exhaled, the sound almost pained, and her fingers curled into a tight fist in her lap. “I do my best not to,” she admitted, her voice too damn quiet.

Her face changed then, like she wasn’t just giving me an answer, but admitting something to herself, too.

“I can’t afford the distraction of feelings,” she whispered. “My life is one bad decision away from derailing everything I’ve worked toward.”

I hated that.

Hated how fucking sad she looked when she said it.

And then—just like that—she was gone. She slipped out of the car, leaving behind only the faintest trace of her perfume, and I sat there, stuck in my own head, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping me grounded.

She was anti-relationships with a past she locked up tight.

I wanted something real, something permanent.

She refused to get attached.

I was already in too deep.

There was a huge chance I’d end up pissed off, hurt, or tossed out without an explanation.

But I knew one thing for certain.

I had to try.

Because something about Michelle made my mind and body come alive, and I was pretty damn sure she felt the same way.

So yeah.

Game on, Mitch. Game on.

* * *

The rehearsal dinner setting was perfect—a sunset bleeding into the mountains, casting long shadows over the terrace.

Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but I’d learned to appreciate these moments. Maybe because I spent so many nights in sterile hotels, unfamiliar cities, stadium tunnels that all blurred together. Or maybe because I was terrified one day I’d forget it all, just like my mom was beginning to.

I sipped my Moscow mule and let the thought settle, allowing myself a whole five seconds of peace before Brigham ruined it.

“Dude, you look stoic as shit.” He plopped down beside me, two beers in one hand, a cigar in the other, his grin already loose from alcohol. “Too fancy for a cheap cigar?”

I held up my drink. “I don’t like anything messing with the taste of my cocktail. Not worth it.”

He huffed. “Your loss.” He attempted a smoke ring, failed spectacularly, then waved his cigar at me. “Laugh it up, man. You try.”

“I’m good,” I said, smirking. “You’re entertaining enough.”

Brigham rolled his eyes, but before he could launch into another attempt, a commotion broke out toward the back of the venue. I craned my neck, already on edge.

The flash of green caught my eye first.

Michelle.

My heart kicked up, but not because of the dress—though, damn, the way it clung to her should have been illegal. It was her posture that had me moving. She was bent over, her entire body a shield, her smartwatch flashing as she timed something.

I didn’t think. I ran.

By the time I reached her, I took in the scene—a kid, maybe sixteen, on the ground, body going rigid, eyes rolled back.

Seizure.

The party had come to a standstill, all eyes locked on Michelle as she sat there, completely steady, resting his head on her knees. No fear, no panic, just pure control.

It seemed to last forever, but slowly, the tremors subsided.

The kid blinked, disoriented but aware.

“Hi,” Michelle said, voice warm, grounding. “I’m Michelle. Do you know where you are?”

He swallowed hard. “My cousin’s rehearsal dinner.”

A woman, probably his mother, let out a strangled sob. “Oh, Ivan. Are you okay?”

He pushed himself up on his elbows. “Yeah. Just rattled.”

Michelle’s brow furrowed, but she stayed calm. “That was four minutes long. If they reach five, you need to call an ambulance.”

She turned to his mother, steady but firm. “Do you need water? Should we move to another room?”

“No, please.” Ivan shook his head. “We’ll leave. These drain me for hours.”

“I’ll help you to your car,” Michelle offered, already standing, already reaching for his hand to help him up.

That was when I snapped out of it.

“I got him.” My voice came out gruffer than I intended, but Michelle just gave me a tight nod.

Ivan was heavier than I expected, but I didn’t falter. He leaned against me, grateful but exhausted, as his mother kept murmuring reassurances.

“Pete. Pete!” The woman’s voice cut through the silence.

An older man rushed over, his face paling as he took in his son’s condition.

“We should leave,” he said, placing a hand on Ivan’s back.

“This is the third time today,” Pete muttered. “We need to go to the hospital.”

Ivan groaned, but I caught the flicker of worry in his eyes.

Michelle nodded, her voice even but urging. “Three seizures in a day isn’t normal. You need to go. They need to rule out other contributing factors .”

After a few tense beats, Pete nodded.

We helped Ivan into the car, his mom fussing over him, his dad trying to keep her calm. By the time the car disappeared down the road, the adrenaline had started to wear off. The party lurched back into motion, voices rising, music creeping back in.

Michelle, though—she was still locked in place.

I moved before I could stop myself, sliding my arm around her waist, tucking her close. “You okay, Mitch?”

She nodded, but her body told another story. Her shoulders stiff, her fingers curled into her dress.

My chest tightened at her tense expression. I reached up, brushing her hair from her face, forcing her to look at me.

Fuck our past.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I asked, voice low, barely above the sound of the party.

Her chin wobbled, but she forced out a laugh, shaking her head. “I just…” She exhaled sharply, finally meeting my eyes. “This is the first time I’ve helped outside of clinicals, and what if I did the wrong thing? What if I miscalculated the time? What if I should’ve called an ambulance sooner?”

She was spiraling, but still fighting so damn hard to keep it together. I couldn’t help it. I cupped her face, brushing my thumbs over her cheekbones.

“You were perfect,” I said, dead serious. “You kept him calm after the seizure, His mom. Everyone. You knew exactly what to do.”

She shook her head, but I saw the hesitation. “What if I fuck it all up?” she whispered. “What if?—”

“Stop.”

She froze.

I dropped my hands, but I stayed close. “Every single thing we do in life comes with risks. We’re human. We mess up. But from where I stood?” I let my eyes drag over her, taking her in, every incredible, frustrating inch of her. “You were in complete control. You didn’t hesitate. You were a goddamn badass.”

She swallowed hard. “Yeah, but?—”

“But what?” I pressed. “You think that because you care, because you’re worried about getting it wrong, that makes you weak?”

She looked away, but I wasn’t having it. I nudged her chin back toward me. “That’s what makes you good, Michelle.”

She sighed. For a moment, we just stood there, our bodies too close, the air too charged.

I wanted to kiss her.

But that wasn’t what she needed right now.

So, instead, I reached for her hand, gave it a squeeze, and smirked.

“By the way, if you wanted an excuse to ditch me at this wedding, you didn’t have to cause a whole medical emergency.”

Her laugh broke through the tension, a real, genuine sound. “You think I planned that?”

I winked. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

She rolled her eyes, but her shoulders finally relaxed.

And just like that, she came back to me. No more doubt on her face, no more second-guessing herself. She stood taller and had the usual glean in her eyes.

“What do you want to do?” I asked. “Leave? Go inside? Tell me, and I’ll do it.”

“Fiona will stab me if I leave.”

“We can’t have that. I’m not a fan of blood.” I made a face. “I would suck as a vampire. If I see more than a drop? I’ll pass out. And then you’ll have to carry me to the car.”

That earned a real laugh, the kind that made my stomach tighten. I stood and held out a hand. “Let’s go, date —we have drinks to consume.”

She bit her lip, hesitating for half a second before standing, brushing her hands down her dress.

“Is my makeup all crazy?”

I stepped in close, close enough to see the faint smudge under her eyes, the way her lips were still slightly parted, like she’d been about to say something before stopping herself.

“Here.” I reached up, brushing my thumb beneath her lashes, slow and careful, wiping away the smudged eyeliner.

Her breath hitched, barely audible, but I felt it.

Her mouth was so damn close to mine.

It would take nothing—just a tilt of my head, just a shift forward…

But I didn’t.

Instead, I reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering against the warmth of her skin before I pulled away.

“Beautiful as ever, Mitch.”

Her eyes flashed with something unreadable before she huffed, crossing her arms. “Ugh, stop being so fucking nice to me. It makes it hard to…”

She trailed off, scowling at the ground.

I waited.

But she just stomped ahead, muttering under her breath.

I grinned. “To what ?”

“To… to not like you,” she bit out, voice frustrated, pissed off.

And fuck if that didn’t do something to me.

She picked up her pace, and I didn’t stop her, because if I did, if I pressed any harder, I’d say something I wasn’t ready for.

Instead, I let my gaze drop, watching the way her hips swayed when she walked, how every step was an unintentional taunt.

“Speaking of hard,” I murmured, loud enough for her to hear, “keep walking like that, Mitch, and we’re gonna have a problem.”

She flipped me off without looking back.

I laughed, trailing behind her, shaking my head. God, this woman was going to kill me.

And I’d gladly let her.