I follow her lead and lie down. Our heads are so close that a braid tickles the back of my neck.
“What are the odds you’ll fall asleep?” I ask.
She yawns, long and languid. “No need to play because I’m already halfway there. I have no idea how you do this almost every night for nine innings. I played six, and I’m beat.”
With her eyes closed, dark lashes frame the almond shapes like delicate strokes of ink. It would be so easy to reach out and trace every plane of her face that glitters under the moonlight.
But I know I can’t.
“What are the odds that I get to come to another WAG event?”
A beat passes. Then two. She deserves to know the truth.
“If I had the chance, Shay, you would always bemy plus one.”
Her shoulder goes rigid against mine. “Well, at least until the day you get a wife or girlfriend.” When her eyes flutter open, I catch a flicker of something in the deep color I can’t place. “Right?”
The air grows thick as I digest her words. Living without Shay has been my own self-inflicted personal hell, and I haven’t been with anyone since her. Couldn’t even fathom the idea. I’d rather be alone than spend my life without the only person I want.
Before I can drop a bomb on our partnership, her attention is stolen by a burst of sound and light. Bright red, yellow, and orange fill the sky, but I keep watching her.
There will be no girlfriend or wife unless it’s her. That I am sure of.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Who knew taking abreak would be somewhat enjoyable?
I may have already missed eleven games, but I’m finally waking up without sharp pain traveling down my leg, I’ve researched a list of back-up universities with my degree that Shay sent, worked three catering events with Mom, and Kenneth and I hung out like we used to—him puzzling and me playing video games.
And today, I explored Philadelphia.
“How’s the pain?” Isla asks as I crawl onto the cushioned table. “On a scale of one to ten?”
It’s a relief to not yelp while tugging my sweatpants off. “One, but I wouldn’t necessarily call it pain. Let’s call it soreness from yesterday’s jog and your nimble fingers.”
She pops in her earphones and pats my shin. “Good, Cade. Happy to hear that. Now let me work my magic and see if we can get you to a zero by the end of the week.”
Just like yesterday, I don’t flinch when she digs into my hip. After two years of constant twinges and pinches that left me breathless in pain, I feel fresh. And as ready as I am to get back on the field, I’m looking forward to being completely healthy when I finally do.
My phone vibrates beside me. Since Isla’s preoccupied with the heavy-metal blasting in her headphones, I might as well take the call.
“Is there a reason I’m at the ticket office and there are two tickets waiting for me?”
I chuckle. “Hello to you too, Shay.” It shouldn’t, but her exasperation brings me pleasure. “Are they good tickets at least?”
“They’re incredible!” she hisses. “Right behind the visiting team’s dugout. How did you—”
“It was easy,” I say. I may owe Dawson and Marcus a six-month supply of Mom’s famous Oreo treats for their will-call tickets, but it’s totally worth it. My single will-call ticket is already reserved, and even though it hasn’t been picked up once all season, I won’t give it away. “Is your dad excited about the game?”
“Excited? He almost bounced out of his seat when I told him I got us tickets to the Pilots game tonight. Now that we’ve been upgraded to near the field, I might actually have to sedate him.”
Call it kismet, but Shay being in Philly for her clients’ soccer match perfectly aligned with our game.
“Good. Did he have fun at the soccer game last night?”
“Dad has fun literally anywhere. I think he liked watching me work, but this will be the highlight of his weekend. We haven’t been to a baseball game together since high school. I always told myself I’d take a day or two off from work, but I never have.”
The regret in her tone stabs at my heart. “You’re the hardest working agent. Just enjoy the game. Tonight is for y’all.”
