I need to make new memories with someone who’ll make me happy, not someone who will haunt me for the rest of my life. I shift, turning away from Dax and Cash, who’re not-so-subtly pushing Geofferson off the porch while flagging security.
Good riddance.
And that’s when I see him.
Cooper Rock.
Cooper Rock is here.
Of course he is. No surprise. Iknewthis could happen.
But the irritating part?
My heart jolts and yellsthat one.Date that one.
He’s seven million times more handsome than Geofferson. Funnier. Or was, when I thought my soulrecognizedhim. And he talked about his family almost non-stop, whereas Geofferson constantly complained that his parents loved his sister more because she was always at their house helping them do things that you do for the people you love when they need help.
Cooper’s gaze sweeps past me as if he hasn’t noticed me at all. He freezes for a split second while I stare, even though I’m positive he doesn’t realize I’m here gawking at him. Then he turns to a pretty brunette standing next to him, whispers something, and the next thing I know, he’s dipping her back in a kiss that belongs on a movie screen.
My stomach gurgles the way it does to warn me that if I don’t get to a bathroomstat, there’ll be a lot more being reported to the tabloids than that I ice-queened out my ex-fiancé.
My temper flares.
Heat stings my eyes.
I have everything. Money. Fame. Fortune. Good friends. My aunt watching out for my career. Medication to solve my stomach issues most of the time.
But I don’t have taste in men.
And I don’t think I ever will.
4
One Month Later
Cooper
I’m in a slump.
I’m in a fuckingslump.
Me.
Cooper Rock. The heart and soul of the Fireballs from their losing years. The guy who lets rookies give him sober rides home when he doesn’t need them so that they feel like they’re an important part of the team. The guy who pranks his teammate and future brother-in-law to make the dude smile, since he’s the opposite of Diego and needs to smile more. The guy who spends extra time in the batting cage even though he butts heads with the batting coach because deep down, he knows she’s right and he could be a legend bound for the baseball hall of fame instead of a mere god in one small part of the country, and who doesn’t want that?
Clearly, me.
If I wanted to be a legend, I wouldn’t let something as dumb as not being interested in getting laid this season stop me from playing good baseball.
But it’s my thing.
I get laid, I play good ball.
This year?
I’m not doing either.
I’m mutteringstupid stupid stupidto myself as I slouch through the secret hallways beneath the bleachers at Duggan Field on a rare off day, hoping to catch the Fireballs’ resident superstition expert hanging around the stadium without looking like I’m hoping to catch her. I slip out the door next to the players’ clubhouse, turn the corner to open the door into our private lounge, and run headfirst into a dream.
