Page 20

nineteen

Chase

The occasional clink of a golf ball hitting the metal rim echoes through the park as I watch Skylar set up her shot. She was biting her lip, moving back and forth on her feet with a stiff stance and her eyes narrowed in concentration.

“You’re overthinking it,” I tease, resting my putter against my shoulder. “It’s just mini-golf, not brain surgery.”

She shoots me a glare before tapping her red ball with too much force, sending it ricocheting off the side of the green and straight into the small moat of water around the lighthouse.

She groans and does a small stomp out of frustration. “Seriously?”

I bust out laughing. “Alright, you can have another shot, but only because I’m feeling generous.”

She rolls her eyes, but takes the extra turn, this time wiggling her butt, and hitting the red ball softer. She bends at the knee while watching the ball wobble toward the hole and stops just at the edge.

“See, progress.” I grin.

Skylar shakes her head. “I’m so bad at this. You’re a baseball player, not a golfer, and you’re killing me here.”

We move through the rest of the course, trading sarcastic remarks and small glances.

With the old school flirting, of showing her a proper swing with my hand on her waist, helping her until I claimed victory in the last hole, even though I wasn’t trying to.

After turning in our putters, we head into the arcade.

As we pass by a group of kids, they watch us walk past and whisper to one another, turning their shocked gazes back onto us.

“Come on, let’s see if you’re any better at this.” I point to the neon air hockey table.

She smirks as she follows me to the neon tables, “Oh, I can definitely beat you at this.”

I raise an eyebrow, but say nothing, waiting until she stands across from me, with an arrogant grin, dropping the puck and leaning down, so I can see her cleavage.

Well, that’s one way to win.

The game was fast, competitive, and full of shouted protests, mainly from my end, with claims that she was purposely distracting me.

“Alright, alright,” I say, retrieving the puck. “Let’s see if you can do this again.”

And she did. Four more times.

I groan, rubbing the back of my neck as Skylar grins, victory written all over her face. ”You know, I think I liked you better at mini-golf.” I mumble, loud enough for her to hear. Half joking, and half truthful.

She winks. “Guess you’re not the best at everything, huh?”

I shake my head, leading her to the basketball hoops next. “Let’s settle this once and for all.”

“Settle what?” she asks.

“The winner of who is the best at sports,” I say.

We play until our arms are sore, neither willing to let the other win easily. It wasn’t until the arcade wound down for the night that I finally led Skylar toward the exit, both of us breathless from laughing, because we learned that we’re both competitive as hell.

Outside, the air was cool, a big contrast to the warmth inside the arcade, but it was also a lot quieter without the numerous game sounds.

We get into my car and I drive us back to the parking garage where her car is parked, pull in beside her car, and kill the engine.

I turn to her, grin, and get out of the car.

I open her door for her, then hold my hand out for her.

She slips her hand into mine, and I like the way it feels.

I walk her to the driver’s side of the car. She turns to me with a soft smile on her lips. “Thank you for this, Chase. I really needed the distraction.”

I tuck my hands into my pockets, teetering back on my heels, watching her. “Yeah, I could tell with everything you’re taking on, the state of undress that your office was in, and the look of crazy in your eyes. Figured that you could use a little time off and a bit of fun.”

She tilts her head. ”You noticed that?”

“I mean, honestly, many may not have noticed, because you’re so cool and collected. But yeah, I noticed,” I tease, stepping a little closer.

Her breath hitches slightly, and for a moment, the space between us feels incredibly small. I reach out, tucking a stray strand of her dark hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering.

She doesn’t pull away. She runs her tongue across her bottom lip.

That was all the invitation that I needed.

Slowly, I lean in, giving her plenty of time to stop me. When she still doesn’t, I press my lips to hers, softly at first, testing. But she responds, tilting her head and pressing closer, deepening the kiss.

The kiss was electric, warm, and laced with something I could not ignore. A longing with a tinge of fear.

Moments pass before we pull back. Skylar exhales a shaky breath, her eyes searching mine.

“Chase…”

“I don’t think that I can keep lying to myself.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that this here between you and me… is something that I want to explore.”

“But Ethan,” she protests.

“Ethan cannot tell us who to be with, regardless of what he thinks,” I tell her with certainty.

“Except that won’t stop him,” she reminds me. “You know that.”

“I know. I know. But what if we explored what is happening between us? What can that hurt?” I implore.

The crack of the bat sends a line drive straight in my direction, and my reaction time is quick. My glove snaps shut tightly around the ball, then my body moves swiftly as I roll my arm back, and whip the ball to Murph, our starting pitcher.

“Nice hands,” Andy, the Terrors’ third base coach, calls out as he approaches. “You finally wake up, or is that your muscle memory working?”

I smirk. “Muscle memory, coach.”

Andy laughs, shaking his head as he folds his arms. “So, what’s on your mind, kid? You’ve been overthinking out here today. Footwork is a half-second late, and I don’t need to tell you at this level, a half-second is the difference between a run in and an error.”

I exhale, lift my hat, and scrape the palm against my forehead. I knew Andy would notice. The guy has been coaching me for years. He could read players like a book.

“Alright,” I admit, setting my glove against my hip.

“Say you’ve got a buddy, right? And he’s really close with this guy, like a best friend.

And, uh, let’s say he starts to —.” I hesitate, then shake my head, “Let’s just say that he feels something for someone that he’s been technically warned away from. ”

Andy’s brow arches, amused. “You’re asking me for relationship advice? Kid, I’ve only dated one woman, and she’s been my wife for nearly twenty years.”

“You asked.”

“You’re right. Alright, so not supposed to like, you’ve been warned against liking this person. Is it a buddy’s ex? A teammate’s girl?”

“I clear my throat and shake my head, not exactly.”

Andy hums, nodding as he processes the information.

McNear slings a ball in my direction, my glove closes around it, and as my hand covers the ball and I throw it back to him. Andy is silent as the ball slips out of my hand.

“Your friend is caught between what he feels and the loyalty he has for his buddy. Am I getting that right?”

“Yeah,” I say, glancing down at the dirt, kicking at it with my cleat. “Something like that.”

Andy is silent for a moment. “Well, the way I see it, there are two ways this can go. One, your friend buries it, pretends it’s not happening, and watches someone else come along and make a move.

Or two, he acts like a man and talks to his buddy and lays it out straight, to avoid the repercussions that can come with lying about something that is probably going to get out anyway and could potentially ruin said friendship. ”

I rub the back of my neck with my ungloved hand and watch as the ball from the plate dives into the outfield. “And what if this buddy is, I don’t know, the type of guy who will probably throw a punch first and talk later?”

Andy chuckles, “then your friend better be damn sure about how much this means to him before he steps in the ring. Be prepared both verbally and physically. Maybe even make sure there’s some distance between the two, you know, for fist throwing and all.

Maybe work that shit out before the next game, yeah? ”

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.”

Andy studies me for a moment longer, eyes narrowing slightly. “You know, for a hypothetical, you sure look like the guy carrying the weight of this situation on your shoulders. You know that’s probably not the best for game play.”

Before I could respond, a sharp voice cut through the air.

“Thorne!”

I turn to see Ethan striding toward me from the visitors’ dugout, his expression unreadable, but his presence heavy. My gut twists instinctively.

Andy, to his credit, immediately switches gears. “So anyway, kid, you’ve gotta keep your weight balanced on that back foot when you’re making those quick throws to first. Can’t let your momentum drag you forward too much, or you’ll start pulling ‘em wide.”

I catch the quick flicker of amusement in Andy’s eyes, appreciating the assist. “Right. Back foot. Got it.”

Ethan stops a few feet away, glancing between the two of us before focusing on me. “How much longer do you have out here?” he asks.

“I’m not sure. Haven’t been tracking time. Andy?” I cut a quick look over to him.

“We’re about done over here. Maybe another thirty minutes before they can hit the showers. But if it’s important, I’ll give you both some space to talk.” He eyes me as he speaks. “We can pick this up later. Try not to let your mind get too cluttered, alright?”

I knew that comment wasn’t just about baseball.

As Andy walked toward home plate, I took a slow breath and turned to my friend. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“I can wait. Andy said you’re almost done here. I have a few phone calls I can make in the meantime. I’ll be back in an hour, that work?” he asks.

I nod my head as Ethan backs away. Andy walks back to the line beside third.

“That was quick. No punches thrown, I see.”

“Not that kind of conversation. It’s strictly business.”

Andy shakes his head, and for the next thirty minutes, my head is back in the game and I’m concentrating on my footing and my throw, but not my heart.

Most of the guys have already cleared out of the locker room, leaving the hum of the overhead lights and the echo of water running from the showers. Ethan doesn’t waste any time. He sits on the center bench and looks at me with his sharp eyes.

“Management is ready to talk numbers,” he says, his tone clipped, full of business.

In front of me isn’t the lanky kid that I grew up with. He’s in full business mode. “Five years, one hundred and twenty million. Full no-trade clause. They want an answer soon.”

“How soon?” I ask.

“Don’t waste your time mulling it over. My advice is, it’s a hell of a deal. We won’t get anything better.”

“I agree.” I nod, sitting so that I face him.

“You’re at the peak of your career, one of the younger players on the team. This is security. Legacy money, man. My advice, say yes, and sign wherever the fuck they tell you to sign.”

The offer is solid, damn near perfect, but something in the back of my mind nags at me.

It isn’t about the money. It isn’t about the terms. It is about whether I can commit to five more years of the same life, the same structure, the same expectations.

But there was also something solid about the offer.

That means that I stay close to home. Close to my best friend. And most importantly, close to Skylar.

Ethan noticed the hesitation, “Tell me you’re not overthinking this. This is a huge opportunity. If you want to shop around your options, I can put feelers out there.”

I exhale, shaking my head. “Nah, I’m not. It’s a big commitment, you know. I’m all for it. This is home.”

“And that’s another thing to bank on. You’re the hometown kid. This is what we’ve worked for. You sign this, you’re set.”

He’s right. I’ve worked hard for my career.

The Terrors took a chance on me right out of college.

This contract extension proves that they have faith in me.

My playing abilities haven’t waned in the two years that I’ve been playing pro ball.

This offer is a testament to the hard work that I’ve put into the game.

I look at Ethan.

“I’ll sign whatever needs to be signed. Have legal look at the contract before it gets to me. I want a rundown of the offer before I put the ink on the paper.”

“Understood. Anything else?” Ethan stands.

“Nothing else that could be worked out between the two of us.” I shake my head.

“Perfect. Dinner tonight, an early celebration?” he asks.

“Sure.” I agree.

The hot water cascades down my back, loosening my muscles, relaxing my body, but my mind?

My mind is all over the place, running in circles around the conversation with Andy.

Rubbing a towel through my damp hair, I look up at the top shelf of my locker.

A row of tiny ducks, about ten of them, all different colors, look at me.

I shake my head. These have been popping up everywhere, and grab my cell from the top shelf in my locker and see the notifications on my phone.

You busy?

It was simple, casual. But I knew better. Skylar wasn’t the type to reach out like this unless she really wanted to talk. I exhale, my fingers sliding across the screen.

Just wrapped up my day. What’s up?

The little dots appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared. I smirk, hoping she is just nervous.

Can we talk?

Three words. But they hit me like a fastball to the ribs.

I don’t know what she wants to talk about, but I had a feeling this was a conversation that had to be done in person.