“You’re a major league baseballplayer.”
He snorts, indignant. “That doesn’t mean I have the kind of money I should have, especially since some players take up more of the team’s resources than others.”
When Aaron glares at Trevor, my hands fist at my sides.
“So you’re in want of a wife because some evil family member is going to write you out of their will or something?”
Tenny gasps, clutching his tennis necklace. “How’d you know?”
“Romance fan,” I say flatly, not taking my eyes off my scheming ex. “Basic marriage-of-convenience setup.”
Aaron shrugs again. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want,” I say, edging closer, “for you to admit that leading me on until I agreed to marry you when you couldn’t care less about me was a crappy thing to do. It’s right up there with kicking puppies or stealing all the toys from the Whos on Christmas Eve.”
“It’s not a big deal.” He glances around for backup, but none of his teammates are on his side. In fact, they look incensed on my behalf.
“It was to me,” I tell him, coming toe to toe. “And I deserve an apology.”
Aaron is several inches taller than me, but a sense of strength ribbons through me as I stand up to him. My chin is tilted to a gloriously defiant degree, my muscles steady. Me from a few months ago would have been quaking with nerves whileavoiding eye contact, but in this moment, I feel not only fearless but powerful.
“Apologize.” The demand comes from somewhere deep in my core.
He glances around, that smug expression curving toward his raised brows.
An eerie calm washes over me as I take a steady inhale. “Very well. You leave me no choice.”
Then I pull back my elbow and punch my ex in the face.
“Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.” I rock myself on a bench in the hallway because I just destroyed my chances of ever being let back into the Waves stadium. Punching one of their starting pitchers? What was I thinking? I mean, Aaron undoubtedly deserved it, butstill.Now, I’ll never be able to attend one of Trevor’s home games.
Tension squeezes my skull as I blink to keep the tears from falling. My hand stings like asonofagun, but it’s the long-term repercussions that make me want to cry. I wish I’d considered them when Aaron had been smirking down at me. In the meantime, I guess I’ll have to curate a repertoire of various disguises. Maybe different aliases too?
Frustrated, I shrug off the too-hot flannel and get to work ripping through all the duct tape attaching Mallory’s throw pillow to my white tank top. I wish I had a pair of shorts to change into, but I settle for rolling up my borrowed sweats to my knees.
“Impressive.” One of the trainers—Margo?—hands me a bag of ice for my bruised knuckles. “I’ve been wanting to do that for months, and I wasn’t emotionally manipulated by the jerk.”
She sits beside me, leaning back against the wall. Everyone else is where they’re supposed to be—media, ice baths, getting cuts taped up—before they receive their post-game meal. Trevor is still wearing his dirty uniform in a meeting with Patrick and the general manager, Terry Hoffmeyer, who happened to be on site because he’d brought his kids to tonight’s game.
“I screwed up,” I tell her.
She clicks her teeth. “Maybe. Maybe not. There’s been a lot of murmuring in the background.”
Before I can ask Margo what she means by that, the door to Patrick’s office opens, and Trevor closes the distance in two large strides. He collapses to his knees in front of me, taking my busted hand in both of his.
“I’m sorry, Kenz. For so much.”
In the background, I register Patrick and the GM continuing down the hall. Margo drifts off as well.
“This is my fault,” I remind him.
Trevor shakes his head, not taking his gaze off the slight nick between my first and second knuckles. He keeps staring at that tiny scratch like it’s a bullet wound. Then his thumb traces my other knuckles before he brings them to his lips.
“This will never happen again,” he tells me, his voice harder than I’ve ever heard it.
I suck in a rough inhale as sparks shimmy down my spine. There is nothing better than knowing that someone is in your corner, caring for you,protectingyou. But the fierce tension vibrating off Trevor is almost palpable. His jaw is so tight I worry that he’ll break a tooth.
I undoubtedly mucked things up with my rash—and very much illegal—decision to punch Aaron, but Trevor shouldn’t be this tense over my mistake.
