Page 36

CHAPTER 34

LOGAN

T he sun was relentless, glaring down on us as we walked onto the field, the announcer hyping up the fact that we were there to throw out the first pitch to celebrate winning the Stanley Cup before the Dallas Raptors MLB game.

It still felt surreal, hearing that. Stanley Cup Champions .

The air smelled like sunscreen, overpriced hot dogs, and freshly cut grass—a weird combination that somehow worked.

We stopped just outside the pitcher’s mound, decked out in freshly pressed baseball jerseys, customized with Knights stitched across the back in block letters. Lincoln, of course, had the honor of throwing the first pitch. Naturally. He was the captain. Our leader. The all-around Golden Boy.

“You nervous, Linc?” Camden teased, tossing the baseball between his hands like he was warming up. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your image in front of all these fans.”

Lincoln shot him a look, his mouth curving into a slow smirk. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Hero? Didn’t you get cut from JV baseball in high school?”

Camden feigned offense, clutching his chest. “I wasn’t cut. I quit to concentrate on hockey.”

Ari leaned in, grinning. “Translation: he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.”

I snorted, adjusting my cap as I scanned the field. It was surreal being out here. The stands were packed, fans decked out in jerseys and hats, waving their foam fingers and beers like maniacs.

“I can step in if you’re nervous.” Colt grinned.

Lincoln ignored him, rolling the baseball in his palm like he did this every day. He stepped toward the mound with the kind of confidence that only someone who wins at life as often as Lincoln does could muster. The rest of the team fanned out behind him, forming a loose line. Camden and Ari stood next to me, while Walker hung back, probably mentally calculating how much sunscreen he’d need to avoid burning.

“Hundred bucks says it hits the ground before home plate,” Asher drawled, loud enough for Lincoln to hear as he came up beside me. His team happened to be the visiting team for the matchup, which was a win-win for me.

Lincoln threw a subtle middle finger over his shoulder without breaking his stride. He set, wound up, and let it rip.

The ball sailed through the air, a clean arc that ended with a satisfying smack into the catcher’s mitt. The crowd erupted in applause.

“He’s good at everything,” Ari muttered.

“It’s disgusting,” Camden agreed.

Walker just whooped and clapped loudly.

The simp.

Lincoln turned back to us, smirking like he knew exactly what we were thinking. “You’re welcome, boys.”

“You’re insufferable,” Camden said, shaking his head. “We’re leaving you here.”

Lincoln turned to Asher, who was still standing out there with his hands on his hips, watching us with an amused smile. “What’s the matter, Matthews? Jealous we’re getting all the attention today?”

Asher raised his glove, shaking his head as he called back, “Keep talking, Daniels. You still couldn’t hit a curveball if your life depended on it.”

“Guess we’ll never know,” Lincoln shot back with a smirk. “I stick to sports where we win championships.”

Asher scoffed and flipped him off, grinning as the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, thanking the Knights for their appearance. We waved awkwardly as we made our way off the field and into the air-conditioned luxury of the box seats behind home plate.

* * *

“Asher’s fucking good,” Lincoln said as he watched Asher lay out for a ball and then somehow toss it to second base for the out.

“Really good,” Sloane murmured.

I glanced down at her. “Hey, none of that,” I growled, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in for a kiss. I was going to have red lipstick all over my face, but it was worth it.

“What?” she asked, wrinkling her nose adorably.

“No complimenting other men.”

Lincoln smirked, pulling Monroe closer to him like just the mention of “other men” made him nervous.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sloane murmured, and I grinned as Blake leaned over and whispered something in her ear. They both rolled their eyes and laughed, clearly making fun of me, and my grin widened.

She fit in so perfectly.

A ripple of noise in the crowd had me glancing back at the field. I turned just in time to see a woman, butt naked, bolting from the stands, sprinting across the field, her boobs flapping around as she ran. The entire stadium erupted into laughter and cheers as security rushed after her.

“Holy—” Ari started, leaning forward as he watched the chaos unfold. “Is she?—”

“I think she’s going for Asher!” Walker said, standing up from his seat.

And she was. The streaker was making a beeline straight for him, arms outstretched like she was going to tackle him to the dirt. The crowd was going wild—whistles, cheers, people on their feet, phones out.

“What the fuck are you doing? Run!” I laughed, slamming my hands against the suite glass.

Asher was completely frozen, a look of horror on his face as he watched her, and it was too late when he finally got his legs to move. His eyes went wide, and he took off, only making it a few steps before she dove and tackled him right at second base, sending them both crashing into the dirt.

The crowd lost it.

“Oh my gosh!” Sloane gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief.

Lincoln was doubled over, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

Security got there, but it took them a minute to drag her off him. The streaker was crying and screaming something at Asher as they took her away.

Asher…just lay there, staring up at the sky like he couldn’t believe what had happened.

“And to think I almost didn’t come today,” Ari mused, wiping his eyes from how hard he’d been laughing. “Bring up any fond memories, Linc?”

Lincoln growled, and I smirked, remembering watching him on TV in a similar situation when I was in college.

Asher slowly got to his feet, brushing dirt off his uniform, his face redder than I’d ever seen it. He glanced toward our box, and even from down on the field, I could see the sheer humiliation in his eyes.

I waved at him, and he rolled his eyes dramatically before glaring at me.

The entire stadium was still buzzing, the replay of what had just happened flashing on the jumbotron for everyone to see—with her important parts blurred out, of course.

“I’m never going to let him live this down,” I said dreamily.

“Unless he finds out about your… sculpture ,” Sloane pointed out. “I’m sure he’d have something to say about that.”

“Let me have my moment, Red,” I sputtered.

She grinned and nodded. “Fine. But only because I love you, and it will be fun to make fun of him for this.”

My heart did that weird beating thing at the casual way she’d just told me she loved me.

Best day ever.

After the game I texted Asher.

Me: …

Asher: Don’t you dare.

Me: I’m not doing anything.

Asher: You want to do something, though.

Me: I know someone that wants to do something…

Asher: That was terrible. Even for you. No wonder they’re not letting you in the rhombus of despair.

Me: What?

Asher: You know, that thing you’re so proud of. Triangle of trouble.

Me: No. Just no.

Asher: Oval of awesomeness.

Me: Circle of Trust! It’s Circle of Trust. And by the way, I am on it.

Asher: On it or in it?

Me: Nope. This isn’t happening.

Asher: What isn’t happening?

Me: I texted you to make fun of the fact that you were tackled by a rabid streaker on national television.

Asher: …

Me: Excellent use of that by the way.

Asher: Thanks, Socks.

Me: But I still win this conversation.