Page 22

22

STETSON

This was bullshit. This whole fucking situation was absolute bullshit .

We’d been on the plane to Orlando when the news broke. Like something off of a TV show, our phones pinged one after the other. I’d been trying to sleep, and the noise woke me. In my groggy state, I was the last person to check my notifications. By that time, my whole team was staring at me. When I saw that private picture of me and Barrett, I wanted to crush the device in my hands.

Vicky. It had to be Vicky.

I saw the look she gave us. She was clearly less than impressed that night. I guess it proved that money can’t buy everything.

Low murmurs started through the plane, but the coaches and managers were quick to shut them down. Each and every one of us had a job to do, and worrying about some tabloid headline wasn’t going to help us.

My team was less than concerned with the fact that Barrett was “in a relationship.” In their eyes, I’d been caught red-handed: I was sleeping with the enemy.

The Stetson from six months ago would have spat the truth out with a smile on his face, but the new and improved me knew better. I wasn’t the only one who had feelings invested here. Even I knew that polyamory could be more unmentionable than cheating. Hell, there were people who would swear on their life that polyamory was cheating, no matter how you painted it.

So I gritted my teeth and sat through the rest of the flight.

When we deboarded in Florida, I was immediately uncomfortable. My suit was itchy, and my tie was way too tight. I tugged at the offending fabric, following close behind the team managers. Though the moment we stepped out of the airport doors, I was ambushed. Camera’s flashed left and right, and I couldn’t tell which way was up. There were so many different voices around me that I couldn’t distinguish one from the other. Finally, someone grabbed me by the bicep and tugged me through the crowd. I didn’t see who it was, but they let me go with a slight shove.

Practice was awful. We were forbidden on addressing the situation, and that infuriated me. We shouldn’t have had to spin anything . Barrett and I were just two men who were sharing a private moment, and that had been invaded. The simple thought had me reeling. I could practically feel my blood pressure rising by the second. I hadn’t read the whole article. I couldn’t. The longer I stared at it, the more red flooded my field of vision.

Fuck, I was supposed to be practicing my curveball.

I reared my arm back and threw the ball, and it wasn’t until I heard a groan of pain that I snapped back to the present. My opponent clutched his side, and I knew I’d gone wide with the ball. Damn, that thing must have been going eighty miles an hour. I cringed, but before I could open my mouth to apologize, I was told to take a break.

Defeated, I trudged toward the clubhouse. I felt eyes on me the entire way, but I resisted the urge to meet them. I was barely keeping a handle on my temper, and I could practically hear Levi’s voice in the back of my head.

“ You need to get it together or you’ll never have any hope in making it in the majors. ”

I needed to be careful. I was a professional baseball player, and I had a lot of eyes on me. Nearly everything I did was televised. There was no going back if I screwed up now.

That was easier said than done. I was too in my head, and it affected my game. I wasn’t pitching as I should, and got swapped by the second inning. Unfortunately for me, the batting lineup didn’t change. I was back at home plate before I knew it.

The catcher spat something out behind me, but I couldn’t make out what it was. Only that it wasn’t anything good. At my wit’s end, I dropped my bat and turned to face him. “What was that?”

I couldn’t make out too many features behind the catcher’s mask, but two dark eyes peered back at me. “I said, ‘slut.’”

Damn, he was bold. My bat hit the dirt, and I ripped off my helmet. Everything around me faded away. “Want to try that again?”

He raised his mask and stretched to his full height, accepting the challenge. Like most other players in the MLB, he towered over me, but that didn’t mean anything. I could hold my own. I ignored the umpire’s hand attempting to keep space between us, and I stared the other guy down. “You heard me,” he snarled, his chest bumping mine.

I wiggled a hand between us, giving the guy a shove. “Oh, come on. You can do better than that.”

“You’re not worth it, Rookie .”

My hands were on him before I could think of doing anything else. I hauled him up by the straps of his vest and slammed him against the fence. But before I could get in a swing, another arm grabbed me—a familiar touch. My fists loosened, and my mind registered a broad chest behind me. Warmth crowded against my back. I let go of the catcher. “Stetson, remember where you are.”

Daddy !

“Time out, Holloway! Now !”

A coach approached to my left, and I realized I was in trouble. Levi’s grip tightened, and I let him pull me out of the situation. I couldn’t even muster the nerve to listen to the announcer, nor did I care to hear whatever Coach had to say. I was tuned into one thing and one thing only, and when Levi asked everyone to give us some space, I was relieved.

“Where’s Barrett?” I asked once we were alone in the clubhouse.

“Minnesota,” Levi responded in that warm, soothing voice that seemed to be one of the two things I wanted in that moment. I wanted Barrett. “He already knows, and he’s dealing with it there.”

I wiggled out of Levi’s grip and moved for my things. “Why are you here with me?”

“Because only one of you has the shortest fuse in existence.”

I stopped in my tracks. Heat bloomed up my cheeks, but I couldn’t even argue. My actions on the field only proved his point. “He needs you,” I muttered.

“He needs us , baby. And we need you.” I turned, my body seeming to find his like a magnet. Buried in his chest, I relaxed. Sort of. His arms wrapped around me, and I fought the urge to break down. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cry or trash the place. Possibly both, but neither would make me feel any better. “He’ll be on the field right. There’s no sense in trying to call him.”

“He shouldn’t be playing.”

“Then neither should you.”

I tipped my head back, resting my chin on Levi’s sternum to look at him. “I can’t leave.”

“No, you can’t,” Levi agreed. “So you’re going to go back out there and wait this out on the bench. After, I’ll take you home. Barrett will meet us there as soon as he can.”

Since there were no real punches thrown, the umpire didn’t label my little meltdown as a fight, and neither team was penalized. I was benched, which worked in our favor. I took my anger out on a plastic water bottle while I watched my team conquer Florida. They all went out to celebrate, and I wasn’t invited. I had better places to be anyway. After rushing through a shower, I met Levi outside the clubhouse, where he led me through a back entrance and into a car. I’d never been more grateful for anyone in my life. I at least got the door shut before the press figured it out.

Levi executed everything, even a security guard to escort us through the airport and onto the flight. Being so late at night, it was a quiet one. The entire journey, I continued to try and get in touch with Barrett. I was met with silence, which only stoked the fire in my belly. Why was he ignoring me?

By the time we landed in Atlanta, I was a panicked mess. For what felt like the thousandth time, he reached over and stilled my bouncing leg. He squeezed my knee, hard. “Don’t worry, Stetson,” he repeated. “Minnesota is two hours behind us. Barrett called while you were on the field. He’s fine, he doesn’t blame you. He just needs to meet with his publicist.”

“Why did he tell you that and not me?” I whined, looking at the multiple messages I’d sent him that had all gone unopened.

“Because you’re also a pro athlete and he knows how time-consuming game days can be. Besides, I told him I would take care of you so he could process. It’s been a long day for everyone, baby; his phone may have died. There’s no need to panic.”

Levi’s words went in, my brain processed them, but I didn’t want to deal with them. I wanted both of my men. The only thing time accomplished was sending me into a spiral. What if Barrett blamed me and didn’t want to say? Barrett had gotten comfortable in his relationship with Levi and I tore into their happy little life. His name was in the headlines because of me.

I tried calling him again when Levi was in the bathroom. There was no answer. Damn it, why wouldn’t he just talk to me?

When he came out, Levi took my phone and stashed it away in my bedside drawer. “You need to rest.” As I opened my mouth to protest, he shushed me, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I know. I promise we’ll face this tomorrow and Barrett’s not going to get away with his lack of communication. But tonight, all you can do is try and sleep. It won’t do you any good to be tired.”

Instead of letting me answer, Levi pulled the blanket back and gestured for me to get into bed. I did, reluctantly, and let him kiss me goodnight. He climbed in himself, not giving me a chance to protest the gap between us before closing in behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. He took my hand and between his thumb brushing along the back of mine and his lips on my neck, I quickly lost my body’s fight and dozed off.

I awoke sometime later, only coherent enough to realize it was still dark outside. Levi was no longer cuddling me, having turned in the opposite direction. Snoring echoed throughout the room. Free from my restraints, I eased the nightstand drawer open, feeling around for my phone and pulling it free. Nothing from Barrett. The device fell to the bed, and I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. I didn’t know what to do. Barrett wasn’t speaking to me, Levi wanted me to drop it.

Maybe I was out of my element.

Suddenly, that big, empty house felt… claustrophobic. I needed to get out.

I needed my men.

They had to realize that I needed them to get through this just as much as they needed to process in their own way.

My screen lit up again when I shifted in bed. It was creeping past one in the morning. My options on leaving were limited, but I knew at least one place I could go.

I grabbed my phone and crept out of bed, thankful that the extra plush mattress didn’t disturb Levi. Before I called anyone else, I tried Barrett one more time. I would give him one last chance to answer the phone.

Straight to voicemail.

My worst fear was confirmed: he never really wanted me to begin with.

Snatching my keys from the hook, I drove across town. As I’d hoped, Maverick was still wide awake. I could hear the TV from outside the door. I knocked, and gentle footsteps approached. The chain rattled and the door flew open. “What are you?—”

“I don’t want to talk.” I shoved past him and into the apartment, beelining toward my goal: the liquor cabinet.