“I’m sorry about your dad, man. I always liked him.”
“Thank you,” I said, falling silent when Brenna’s hand connected with mine. I didn’t know if I was even still breathing as she intertwined our fingers and squeezed. It lasted only a few seconds, so short I wondered if I dreamed it.
“Hey,” Ax continued, unaware of anything between Bren and me, “you should join our baseball league for a game. Freeze, Stark, and Cafferty are on the team. The rest of the guys are from my crew. They’re cool.”
“Nathan.” Brenna’s warning tone. Her eyes narrowed, concern etched between them. I would not entertain this conversation with her. I thought I’d already made that clear.
“Quinn, you’re welcome to join us too.”
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Nathan,” Brenna said. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“Sharpe, don’t tell me you’ve gone soft.” Ax leaned his elbows on the counter. Brenna glared at me, trying to silently communicate the seriousness of her point. “Do you remember the game you played with a high ankle sprain?”
Brenna sighed loudly. “Iremember. From behind home plate, I could see himgrimaceevery time he took a step, but he refused to acknowledge it.”
Ax laughed, unaware of the callback to our earlier argument. “He was always a tough motherfucker.”
I loved playing baseball, so I played regardless of injury or illness, outside of the stint in physical therapy that my parents and Brenna forced on me. This game had been the most consistent part of my life ever since I picked up a rubber baseball at two years old. I loved it, and I didn’t know what I would do without it.
“Stubborn motherfucker is more like it,” Brenna muttered under her breath, turning away from us and moving down the counter to clean one of the coffee machines.
Ax gave me a mischievous half smile, nodding toward Brenna. “So you finally locked her down, huh?”
“Brenna’s engaged to someone else.” The words were like sandpaper on my tongue. I punched him playfully in the arm. “Don’t get any ideas.”
Ax mock-saluted me. He’d backed off in high school too. By the time Bren and I got together, he’d moved on to someone else and didn’t hold a grudge. It wasn’t like our relationshipsurprised anyone. People recognized what had taken me far too long to realize—our connection was deeper than any friendship.
And then I fucking lost her.
I shook my head, needing to forget that thought.
Brenna and I reached a good place these last couple of weeks, slipping into a comfortable routine. I made coffee in the mornings while I maneuvered around the cats swarming me for food. Brenna came downstairs an hour or so later, and we ate breakfast together. We drove to the café and worked until midday when we ate lunch with Allison to strategize next steps. After lunch, we headed home, and Brenna disappeared for hours in her room, resurfacing to tackle the to-do list for the house. Sometimes we had dinner together, sometimes Brenna left.
Most nights, we watched a movie or a hockey game. Every time Brenna smiled at me or observed me in what she thought was a surreptitious way, I tried not to let hope take root in my chest.
“See you at the next game.” Ax handed back my phone after entering his number.
Brenna would raise hell when she found out I planned to play. It shouldn’t have surprised me she noticed my shoulder pain, even when everyone on my team—except Leo—missed it. From behind home plate, Brenna had learned to read me, picking up every tell.
It was disconcerting that this particular ability of hers hadn’t vanished in the years since we shared the field.
“Are you done working for the day?” Brenna asked, abruptly pulling me from my thoughts. She still wore a green apron, one hand positioned on a popped hip.
I sighed. “Sure, yeah. It’ll all still be here tomorrow.”
Tonight, Brenna and I would continue painting the house. Usually I liked the time we worked together at home, just the two of us, the rest of the world shut out. It was then we almost felt like friends again. Although I didn’t look forward to beingpressed about agreeing to play baseball, not that she could sway me.
“You know, you used to love that I was a tough motherfucker.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Nathan, I worried about youallthe time.”
I took a step toward her and leaned in. “Don’t pretend you didn’t also find it hot, darlin’.”
She stilled, like she’d expected an off-speed pitch and instead was hit with a heater. I couldn’t resist stunning her, soaking in her self-conscious expression, the way her cheeks blushed. A risky game, but I couldn’t help playing.
I couldn’t help a lot of things when it came to Brenna Quinn.
“I’ll be ready to go in fifteen minutes,” I said over my shoulder.
