A hand slices between us, and I jump back. Tattooed vines and flowers are inked into the thickest forearm I’ve ever seen, but nothing could prepare me to find one of my favorite pitchers grinning at me.
Holy shit.
Dawson Huber leans against Cade. “Wow, rookie. She’s even prettier in person. This is your—”
“Agent.” The word leaves my lips so quickly, I worry I should repeat it for good measure.
Dawson’s smile should shrink, but it widens. “You’re Shay, right?”
And here come the hives. “Yes. His agent.”
It takes a beat for Dawson to recover from his moment of shock, but then he extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Shay. Don’t see many female agents. Pretty badass if you ask me.”
His normalcy relaxes me, but fear drums quietly beneath my skin. “Thank you.”
As if sensing my unease, Dawson scampers toward his family.
“Please tell me I’m overreacting,” I say, watching Dawson launch an adorable round-faced child into the air. “Does he know about me? Us?”
Cade bows his head. “Sort of. I told him there was someone that things never worked out with. But that’s all, I swear.”
“You clearly showed him a picture,” I hiss. “He recognized me!”
For the first time tonight, his smile shifts from plastic to real. Like my Cade.
“Kind of hard not to brag when it comes to you, Agent Shay.”
A blush blooms under my darkened cheeks, but I glare at him. “He can’t say a word. People can’t know about us, Cade. Losing my job would—”
“You won’t lose anything,” he promises. “Dawson won’t say a word. I’ll make sure of it.”
His assurance doesn’t completely alleviate my stress, but what other choice do I have?
“Hey, Cade!” someone shouts. “You coming out tonight?”
“Not tonight, Marc. Gonna head home.” He drops his head to meet my eye. “Thanks for coming, Shay ba—” A tiny smile tilts. “Agent Shay.”
My eyes dart around the room. Every player looks like they could sleep for twelve hours, but Cade’s exhaustion seems different. It’s one of the first things I noticed when he walked into Permian a week ago. Even when smiling, there is something hollow about the curved shape.
After college baseball games, we had BYOB—Bring Your Own Breakdown—nights. Together, we broke down every high and low in a way that kept his spirits up. By the end of the night, pink sticky notes were scattered all over the ground. When I headed home, the sting of the harder notes was nearly nonexistent.
It wasn’t until junior year that I started staying the night after.
People saw Cade as the golden baseball player and nothing more, but I only saw him.
I need to tell him that even though we aren’t together and things didn’t end on the best terms, I’m still in his corner. I always will be.
By the time I look up to speak, Cade’s gone.
Chapter Nine
Who knew something asharmless as a legal pad could cause so much distress?
I pace across the hardwood floor, stepping over scattered pieces of yellow paper. Jon’s loopy scrawl makes my stomach turn, but I need to prepare for the upcoming series in Florida. Reading his notes may seem stupid, but mixed into the barbwire comments are random pieces of information that could help me stay at a high level.
After last night’s win, the media called me the current best shortstop in the league. Keeping up this momentum is important if I want to stay in North Carolina with my people.
With Shay.
