Page 6

6

STETSON

“Rookie, sit your ass down!”

There was no way in hell that was happening. Not with the energy coursing through my veins.

I paced the perimeter of the clubhouse lounge. It was the first game of the season—my first game in the majors. I was wired, buzzing with electricity.

“Someone get him a hamster wheel!” Matt called out on what had to be my hundredth lap around the room.

Those last few hours before a game were intended for us to relax. Everyone else lounged across the room, either wearing headphones or crowded around game systems. A couple had books in their hands, and Harrison was predictably taking a nap.

But I couldn’t sit still. I’d tried. The only thing I did was bounce the couch hard enough that a sleep-drunk Harrison kicked me off.

So, I paced.

I walked until my legs burned, and then I kept going. I knew I wouldn’t feel any of it once I was out on that field. The only thing to slow my stride was a knock on the clubhouse door, and Levi walking into the room. Dressed in khakis and a white polo, he looked good enough to eat. He had his hands shoved into his pockets and a pair of aviator sunglasses on top of his backward ball cap. We locked eyes and I blushed, both of us no doubt remembering what went down in his kitchen a few days ago. I still hadn’t called to give him a decision.

“How are we doing boys?”

A chorus of mumbles and half-hearted responses sounded around me, but all I could manage was an audible gulp, which caught Levi’s attention. “What about you, Rookie?”

I quashed the wave of desire. That sounded different coming off his lips—hotter, and it sent a jolt through my body that went right to my crotch. “Yes, sir.”

His eyes darkened. “Good luck.”

With that, he backed out of the room. Someone had to have picked up on the tension between us but upon observation, everyone had resumed their pre-game rituals. I resumed my pacing, effectively pissing off all my team members until Coach came to get us to start drills.

That was when the rest of the team caught up to my energy. No one spoke, save for the few religious players mumbling quiet prayers to themselves.

I’d been placed halfway through the line, and I took a few deep breaths. My stomach flipped. The noise from the crowd that packed the stadium vibrated through my body. The New York Hellbenders were already on the field. As we made our way out to join them, a stray player far in the outfield caught my eye. As I followed the movement, I realized it wasn’t just any player.

It was Barrett Swindon, catcher for the Hellbenders. The man had the accuracy of a sniper. Legend had it he could read batters like a book, communicating almost telepathically with the pitcher to strike out even the best of the best.

Well, he hadn’t met me yet.

Entirely captivated by the man, I picked a spot near the home dugout to stretch while I watched him closely. Some players ran laps, but Barrett leisurely strolled over to the fence behind home plate. Someone was leaning over the railing. No, not someone: Levi . I saw those aviators glinting in the sun. Barrett approached, and his smile widened. I was interested, but I thought nothing of it.

That was, until Barrett hooked his foot into the fence, pulling himself up and planting a kiss on Levi’s lips. There was no mistaking that kiss either. Levi cupped Barrett’s cheeks, smiling against his mouth. My stomach churned, my blood boiled but before I could rip my gaze away, I felt the smack of a glove on my shoulder.

“Getting an eye full, Rookie? Here.”

Harrison plonked a ball into my hand and backed up about five feet in front of me.

“What’s the story with that?” I asked, sending the ball at him. Admittedly, it wasn’t my best throw. I was a teensy bit distracted.

“What do you mean?”

“Are they together?”

Harrison raised a brow at me under his cap. “You don’t know the story?”

“Clearly not”

He scoffed. “Yeah, they’re together. I’d say… five years ago now? There was a huge scandal. It was all over the place. How do you not know?”

“I was in the hospital five years ago. I tore my rotator cuff and wasn’t sure if I’d ever play again.”

Harrison nodded along with me. “Ah, so you were ignoring the headlines completely.”

I returned the ball, feeling that anger all over again. “Anything to do with baseball as a whole.”

“I think that makes you the only person in the sport that doesn’t know what happened. What’s got you all bent out of shape over it?”

Instead of answering, I looked back to Levi again, who was smiling at me. In light of recent discoveries, I found it hard to return the gesture. “It doesn’t matter.”

Harrison cast a knowing grin my way. “Ohh, you have a thing for Levi. I thought I sensed something in the clubhouse earlier.”

“And I thought you were asleep.” The next time I got the ball, I didn’t throw it back. Instead, I closed the distance between us, smacking it directly in his hand. “Say nothing.”

He studied me, something indiscernible in his eyes. “You got it.”

I went back into the dugout, dropping my glove in my seat and heading for the clubhouse.

“Holloway! Where are you going?” Coach called out.

“Bathroom.”

“Make it quick!”

I went straight for my cubicle, grabbing my phone and perching on the edge of my chair. I pulled up a search window and typed in Levi’s name. The first few options were what I’d expected: his website and information about signing. But when I scrolled further, I found a headline that caught my eye:

Levi Grant Client Relationship Exposed .

I clicked on it, leg bouncing while the browser loaded. The article was long, but I skimmed the important parts.

Levi had been Barrett’s agent at the start of his career. Then, five years ago, one of his teammates caught them together in the locker room. He planted a camera and when Barrett refused to step down from the team, he leaked the images. Barrett and Levi were given the option to either end their relationship or end their contract. Barrett broke the contract, signing with another agent. From a quick glance at Levi’s social media—which also came up on the first page; I’m not a total creep—they were happy.

So why did Levi want me ? He hadn’t mentioned a partner at all. But why didn’t I see it? If they lived together, I should have noticed the signs of someone else calling that place home. I squeezed my phone in my hands until the cheap plastic case cracked under the pressure. I flipped it over and stared at the screen. Everything could be solved with a simple phone call, a text message even.

Instead, I slipped my phone back into my bag and tried to tamp down my anger. But the only thing I really wanted to do was march onto that field, step up on the fence exactly like Barrett did, and demand that Levi explain himself.

There was no time for that.

The clubhouse door opened and Coach stepped in. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “Let’s go! You’re batting first as soon as Harrison strikes out those Hellbenders.”

I didn’t even have time to calm myself down. Coach didn’t move until I took a step forward, and he gestured for me to go ahead of him. I watched the beginning of the game from the dugout, feeling multiple sets of eyes on me and ignoring all of them.

“Strike one!”

Harrison had one hell of an arm. He refocused, and waited for the catcher’s call.

“Strike two!”

The cycle repeated itself and this time, the batter settled on his feet. Even from where I sat, I could see the determination on his face. He wasn’t letting this one get past him.

Harrison wound up, then pitched. The ball ricocheted off the bat and soared into the outfield. Matt locked in on the ball, and a weird sense of déjà vu washed over me. Matt scurried backward.

The ball started to drop.

Like he had a magnet in his palm, he reached up and the ball fell into his glove, and the home crowd went wild.

Out.

One step closer to my first hit.

Two more of those later, it was time for the teams to switch. My heart pounded in my ears.

I strapped on my gloves and my batting helmet. Hands patted my shoulders as I walked out.

“ All eyes are on number twelve, rookie player Stetson Holloway as he steps up to the plate.”

I stepped onto the field, my trusty wooden bat thrust into my hands.

Off to the side, I took a couple of practice swings while the starting catcher took the field.

Of fucking course .

Barrett Swindon smirked, mouthing “good luck,” before tipping his face guard down and taking position.

“My House” burst through the speakers, and the home crowd roared.

It was then that I gave myself the time to close my eyes and take a deep breath.

This was it. This was the moment I’d waited for my entire life, everything I’d worked for. I wasn’t going to let being played by a crush take it away from me.

Stepping up to home plate, I readied my bat and locked eyes with the pitcher. The music cut. Show time.

I was going to own this fucking field.