“What? Jesus, Finn! I wasn’t dying in there. You didn’t need to do that.”
She turns from me and starts toward the main hall, her sneakers squeaking with every step she takes. Swallowing my frustration, I snag her wrist and give her a soft tug. When her head whips back and those simmering eyes settle on me, I almost grin.
“Let me take you somewhere, Bree. Don’t run.”
Her mouth opens and closes three times before words finally escape. “Where?”
“You’re kidding.”
I wink at her. “There are two things I don’t kid about. The first is obviously you, and the second is baseball.”
“We haven’t been here in a long time.”
“I know. It’s the same, though. I make sure they keep it taken care of,” I admit, slowly looking away from her and to the abandoned baseball diamond I’ve taken us to.
It’s where I first learned how to play and taught Aubrey years later. I reach into my trunk and grab my bat. When I extend it to her, she takes it with a confident hand. I tuck my spare glove under my arm and toss the ball in the air before facing her.
“We’ll hit a few balls while you tell me what’s wrong.”
She scowls, tapping the tip of the bat to the dirt. “I already told you?—”
“The truth, Bree. I don’t want the watered-down version that you think I’ll settle for. You should know me better than that by now.”
Glancing away, she stares at the field. I do the same, ignoring the silence and taking in the view of the place where I first fell in love with baseball. I spend far too much money each year keeping this diamond from getting bulldozed and filled with a condo or two because just the thought of not being able to come back here turns my stomach. It’s peaceful. There are no cameras here or fans watching with their unreachable expectations. This is where I go when I want to reconnect with the sport that mademe who I am today, and I’ll do anything to keep it here, just like this.
There are no bleachers, and the dugout is so old I haven’t dared step foot into it since I was eighteen, taking my last look at the place before draft day. I tighten my hold on the ball in my palm and glide a fingertip along the stitching before looking back at Aubrey. Her eyes are already on me, her lips slightly tilted.
“Come on. I’ll go easy on you,” I murmur.
She exhales a heavy breath. “Your easy isn’t really easy.”
“That’s so nice of you to say.”
The rounded tip of her baseball bat comes up and taps my ass as I howl a laugh and give her a push forward. She rolls her eyes, but I can see the ice inside of her melting inch by inch. Once we’ve stepped through the opening in the fence and my foot touches the grass, I let my shoulders go loose. There’s an instant change in energy here, and I revel in it, trying to bottle it up.
“You’re not allowed to make fun of me when I miss. It’s been at least a year since I’ve swung a bat,” Aubrey declares, already taking her place at home plate.
I step onto the very flat pitcher’s mound and run my foot over it, staring down at the marks I leave behind before glancing up again. My eyes bulge for half a second as I clear my throat, struggling to glance away from where she stands, undressing.Well, not completely.
The zip sweater she wore today is one of those yoga ones, with the thin, elastic material, and she’s taking it off. I swallow, fighting a silent battle to keep my eyes from wandering across the bare shoulders that become exposed once she’s shrugged her arms out of the sweater. The sun beats against the back of my neck, making it break out in a sweat as I drop my gaze an inch.
Her sports bra isn’t overly revealing. It’s thick, with a band that goes at least two inches below her chest, but that doesn’tmatter. Not right now. I freeze with my eyes on the cleavage that’s been revealed and the soft rise and fall of her chest as she takes steady, unbothered breaths. My tongue sticks to the top of my mouth while she balls her sweater up and tosses it to the side, giving me an unrestricted view of her entire upper body.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen her like this. I’ve been around her in a bathing suit before, yet . . . thisfeelsdifferent. Intimate in a way going to the beach isn’t.
I force my stare up to the bright blue straps of her bra and the freckles that decorate the tanned skin beneath them. Jesus, they’re everywhere. Have I noticed that before, or is it something that’s only recently happened?
The swing of the wooden bat cuts through my focus. I blink, ignoring the sudden pulsing in my cheeks, and find her curious gaze waiting for me. The warm day must be getting to her, too, because she’s already pink.
“Each time you miss the ball, you have to tell me more about what happened today,” I tell her, ignoring the rasp in my voice.
“What makes you think anything happened?”
“Because I know you, Aubrey. I heard how upset you were on the phone, and I want to know why so that I can help.”
She lifts the bat, avoiding eye contact. “Fine.”
Her positioning would have Kellen intervening if he were here. Since he isn’t, I let it go. Instead, I focus on putting my glove on before giving the ball one final toss.
