“Plus, it took a bad hop, I saw it,” Easton chimes in.
“None of that matters. We didn’t get anything done at the plate. It’s on all of us,” I say, hoping it will cool things off.
Decker stops walking and turns to Foster. “You always blame everyone else. Why did you even come here?”
Foster’s grin says he’s about to say something he shouldn’t. “Too much money to turn it down, brother. I know you can’t understand that since we’re at two very different pay grades.”
“Shit, that’s not cool,” Easton says.
Ever since Foster got here, there’s been a divide—Easton and Decker, and Foster and me.
“It’s all right, Easton. It’s the truth, and that’s where we’re different. I don’t need money to know my worth.” Decker steps closer to Foster.
They’re the same height, and they both look as if they could breathe fire right now.
“You’re still the player who gets flustered by your emotions. Always so many feelings.” Foster shakes his head.
“It’s better than being a cold, heartless bastard,” Decker says.
Their chests press against one another’s.
Easton and I look at each other, then scramble to get between them before it comes to blows.
“Hey, we’re in public,” Easton says. “Fans are still hanging around.”
“We’re a team.” I wedge myself between them. “Like it or not, you two are on the same side.”
My phone vibrates, and knowing I’m already late, I pull it out of my back pocket, seeing Leighton’s name on the screen. “Fuck, guys. We gotta go.”
I’m about to tuck it back in my pocket when I’m pushed to the ground, and the phone flies out of my hands.
“Jesus. Fuck!” Easton shouts. “Hayes!”
I scramble back to my feet to see Decker and Foster rolling around on the pavement. I pull Foster off his brother and push his chest back as Decker scrambles to his feet.
“You guys need to sort out your shit,” Easton tells them. Now he’s pissed.
“I’m going to the party on my own. I don’t want you assholes there. Go see a fucking therapist and fix whatever is wrong before it poisons the team.” I search the ground for my phone, but I don’t see it anywhere. “Where the hell is my phone?”
“Hey, man,” Easton says, staring at the storm grate.
“Fuck!” I shout at the sky, knowing my phone is now lost to me.
“You broke my fucking nose,” Foster says, blood gushing down his shirt.
Awesome.
Chapter
Forty-Nine
Leighton
* * *
The birthday party ends, and there’s still no word from Hayes. My worry has grown exponentially with every minute that ticks by.
Lake is in her room. My mom took Lincoln and Monroe to Aunt Iris’s who said she’ll keep them overnight. Of course, my mom couldn’t leave before delivering her parting shot of, “I’m not surprised he disappointed you, Leighton. Men always do. When are you going to learn that?”
