Sleep doesn’t come.
I try. I flip between my back, my side, and my stomach. Right now, I’m staring at the ceiling and counting backward from a thousand, but every time I close my eyes, I see her, feel her, and taste her.
By three a.m., I give up and head to the gym in my building, running on the treadmill until my legs burn and my lungs ache.
It doesn’t help.
By six, I’m back in my apartment, staring at my phone, resisting the urge to text her even though I don’t have her number.
I could get it. Dante’s girlfriend works in the stadium’s PR department and probably has access to vendor contacts. Or Icould swing by the shop, ask under the pretense of finally booking a consultation.
But I don’t.
Because she’s right.
Thisisa bad idea.
Coach Bishop would lose his mind if he knew. The team would have a field day. The media would turn it into a circus.
And yet…
I can’t stop thinking about the way she looked at me before she drove away. The way her voice softened when she said my name. The way she kissed me back, twice, even knowing all the reasons she shouldn’t.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it, hoping.
Marcus:Film review at 10. Don’t be late.
I drop the phone onto the counter, exhaling hard.
This is fine.
I’m fine.
I’ll go to practice, throw some bullpens, and pretend last night didn’t happen. And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll believe it.
But I doubt it.
Because Ava Bishop is under my skin now.
And I have no idea how to get her out.
Chapter Six
Reece
The text comes in at two in the morning.
I’m on my third lap through my apartment, barefoot on hardwood, because lying down means closing my eyes, and closing my eyes means thinking. My shoulder aches from the hundred pitches I threw in my building’s gym an hour ago.
Didn’t help.
Nothing helps.
My phone lights up the dark room.
Ava: We need to talk.
Four words. They’re the universal precursor to someone ending something before it even starts.
