Page 9

Chapter nine

Rhett

“Let’s go, boys!” Yami lets out a whoop as he claps his hands, and the team responds with a cheer. We make our way down the hall that leads to the dugout and out onto the field to warm-up for tonight’s game.

As soon as my cleats hit the grass, everything else fades away. All that exists is me, my teammates, and the next nine innings.

Mav and I team up to throw the ball back and forth for a while, warming up our arms. Then it’s on to some stretches as the seats fill with Tridents fans. I glance up at the stands now and then, seeing the flood of green and gold and letting it infuse me with pride, excitement, and motivation.

We’re gonna win.

Our opponents are from the Midwest, and they’re a solid team, but we’ve got a history of beating them every game for the last two seasons. That doesn’t mean we get to be cocky, as rumour has it they’ve had a massive shake-up and have some new guys on the team that could change things up.

Half an hour later, Coach calls us back to the dugout for a last-minute pep talk before we go out for the national anthem.

“Alright, boys. You know what to do. Trust yourselves, trust each other, and make the goddamn play. This is just one game out of one hundred and sixty-two, but that doesn’t mean it matters any less than the rest of ’em. Go get ’em, Tridents.”

Short and sweet. Just the way I like it. We all jog back out and take our places in a row on the first baseline, hats off for the singing of the anthems. Then it’s time to play some fucking ball.

Two innings later and we’re up by three. Mattias, the head trainer, is checking out Mav’s shoulder as Yami and I get ready to bat.

“Evie’s here,” he says casually, leaning against the railing next to me.

Thank fuck I’ve got a good poker face, because there’s no way I’m letting him know how that makes me stand up a little taller and want to hit a little harder.

“Yeah? Nice. She in the box?” I keep my tone neutral. Just making conversation. And definitely not letting my eyes skip over the rows of bleachers to the box where all the wives and girlfriends of the players often watch the game.

“Yeah. Willow came to get her earlier. Guess she’s off duty today and watching the game with Sin’s mom and the kids.”

Mention of Ronan Sinclair's family, which includes his wife – our head of media relations, and kids has small grin breaking free on my face. Their daughter Peyton's a riot, and we all love her. And their baby boy Jett? Too fucking cute.

Yami slaps my shoulder just before he jogs up the steps to the on-deck circle. “See ya at home plate, dude.”

I exhale as he leaves, my fists clenching and unclenching.

I don’t know exactly when or how things changed, but the attraction to Evie I’ve been fighting has become harder to ignore. On this latest stretch of away games, I found myself missing our early morning conversations. Missing laughing over Ruthie’s antics. Missing the simple reality of sharing space with someone.

She’s under my skin, that’s for sure. And that’s a dangerous truth to hold on to.

Just then, Yami hits the ball, hard and fast to the outfield. He takes off running as Wilson heads up to the plate and I move into the on-deck circle. Yami reaches second base easily, and Sin jogs into home, bringing our lead up to four runs.

I blow out a slow exhale, clearing my mind as best I can, to try and bring back that single-minded focus I had when I hit the field for warm up. The focus that normally comes and doesn’t leave until the game’s over. But today, one gorgeous woman up in the players’ box is messing with me. And she doesn’t even know it.

Wilson’s bat connects, but it’s a pop fly easily caught by the pitcher. He comes off the field scowling without a second glance my way. That’s fine, my attention is on the man standing sixty feet away from me.

I take a couple swings outside the box, then step in. The ball flies at me, and I swing. And fucking miss.

Cursing under my breath, I take a step back and breathe in and out slowly. Baseball is my life. I can’t let anything get in my way. Not even Evangeline Yamaki.

Stepping back up to home plate, I get ready for the next pitch.

It’s a slider, and it’s headed for the outside of the plate. I adjust slightly, swing, and connect. I’m off running without a second thought. I make it to first, Yami to third, and that’s all it takes to get me back in the game.

The next hour and a half flies by. I’m kept busy in left field, with a hell of a lot of hits coming my way. More than one of which I fumble, which pisses me right off. By the end of it, I’m exhausted, and more than happy to spend the last inning on the bench when Coach puts Martinez out instead of me.

We pull off a solid win and the energy in the locker room postgame is high. Monty, our catcher, is in charge of the music pumping through the speakers and today it’s some weird remix that sounds like a country song got stuck in a blender with EDM. Somehow it works. But his dance moves definitely don’t.

“Monty, I swear on my mama’s head, if you don’t stop shakin’ that ass around, I’m gonna get Lark in here to slap it.” I whip my towel in his direction to emphasize my point, but the fucker just turns and grins.

“Joke’s on you, Darling, because that sounds like a good time.”

The guys laugh, and so do I, because that’s exactly what I expected he’d say. “Oh yeah? Well, maybe I’ll call Mattias in here instead.”

Monty’s look of mock horror has us all laughing even harder. These men, they’re my family. I don’t have siblings, but I have these shitheads, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Hey bro, you coming out with me and Evie to get some food?”

I want to say yes. I want to see her, talk to her, and spend time with her. But not with Yami there. “Nah,” I say, pulling on a pair of shorts under my towel before unwrapping it from my hips. “You two go, I’ll head home and check on the pup. ”

Yami shakes his head with a grin. “Can’t believe she still has that thing. But I’m guessing you’re enjoying it, aren’t you? Fucking animal lover.” He’s teasing, but he’s also not wrong, so I just shrug and give him a smirk.

“I get all the benefits of having a dog without any of the work. Sounds like a good deal to me.” We head out of the locker room together, Yami peeling off to head to Evie’s side.

Roddy, one of the new rookies, comes up next to me and elbows me. “Damn, is that Yami’s sister? She’s fucking hot. Wonder how she feels about shortstops.”

I not-so-lightly shove him away, fixing him with a glare. “Shut the fuck up, rookie. That’s no way to talk about any woman, but especially not a teammate’s sister.”

Roddy has the good sense to hold his hands up, his face apologetic. He’s young, wet behind the ears, and caught up in the excitement of his first season in the big leagues. That’s the only reason I’m not doing more than shoving.

“Sorry, man. Didn’t mean no disrespect like that.”

I arch my brow, folding my arms across my chest. I’ve got several inches of height over him, which lets me look down and emphasize my disapproval. “Just don’t let me hear you talking like that again. It’s one thing to flirt with the ladies when you’re out, but you damn well better be respectful, and you sure as shit better respect the women that are part of this family.”

Roddy nods rapidly and turns to walk away. I glower after him, taking several slow breaths.

“Well, damn, Darling, didn’t know you had that in you.”

I turn at Monty’s voice. “Had what in me?”

“That big dog, take-no-shit, badass energy.” He’s holding Lark’s hand as they come up beside me. “You’re always so nice to everyone. Good to see you can give ’em shit when they need it.”

“Come on, Dan, Rhett’s a southern gentleman. He’d never put up with someone being disrespectful,” Lark chimes in, leaning against Monty’s side. His arm comes around to cup her pregnant belly protectively. “Although, I have to admit, I’ve never heard you sound quite so growly before.”

“Yeah, that was something else. Anything to share?” Monty waggles his eyebrows, but I just narrow my eyes at him.

“Not a thing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be getting home.” I nod at them both and move quickly down the hall to the parking lot. I don’t stop until I’m in my truck.

Fuck. Now she’s not only messing with my game but causing me to act differently enough that my friends are noticing. I don’t regret giving the rookie shit, but if I don’t want anyone knowing that I’m dangerously attracted to my roommate, I gotta pull myself together.

Besides, we might have won tonight, but that’s in no part thanks to me. Which means I need to find a way to cut the shit and find my focus.

The game is a hell of a lot more important than some annoying attraction to my best friend’s little sister. It has to be.