“That he does.” Charlotte cackles. Is that a tinge of sadness in her voice?
“Did you love him?” I ask curiously, handing her the phone back.
“Maybe. I was so young. Back then, it felt real, and when we broke up, it felt like my heart would never heal.” She tilts her head to the side in thought, wading through memories. “Then I met Jonathan, and nothing else mattered.”
Charlotte’s smile returns at the mention of her fiancé, Jonathan, who is a wonderful man. He’s also a heart surgeon, and he thinks my sister walks on water.
“I wish you had told me. I would have helped you send him monkey crap or something.”
“What?” Charlotte chuckles.
“There’s a website that will send animal poop to people who’ve wronged you.”
“Really?” Her voice lilts in curiosity, but I know better.
Still, I egg her on. “Yep. I bet we could get this jerk’s address and send him a huge pile of shit.”
Charlotte scoffs. “You’re crazy. But thank you for being a good big sister. I don’t know anyone who would send the guy who hurt me a pile of…excrement.”
“Shit, Char. Just say shit,” I say, making her giggle.
“Fine, a pile of shit. But I’m good, Savy.” She lifts her pinky into the air like we used to when we were kids. “I swear. I’ve moved on. I’m getting married to an incredible man whom I truly love. I’m happy.”
Charlotte holds up her hand. I stare at her, trying to look past the smile, but all I see is happiness. I know in my heart she’s being honest. She’s moved on.
I hook my pinky around hers. “Good.”
“Besides, I learned a great lesson.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing good comes from dating a bad boy.”
one
Nico
Present Day
Thethwackofballshitting bats and gloves is sweet, sweet music to my ears.
I love the lull between seasons, when we get back to fundamentals and it’s nothing but baseball. Hitting, throwing, catching, sliding, running. The adrenaline of it all is my drug.
This is my second season with the Evaders, and I’m finally getting a feel for all the guys. They’re good dudes. Most of them have been on the team for a while and have already built strong relationships with each other. That doesn’t stop them from including me in their shenanigans.
I glance over at Cameron Miller—or Cam, as we all call him—our number one pitcher, in the cage beside me. I shake my head in disbelief. It’s still hard to believe my sister, Talia, fell forthat pretty boy and is going to marry him next month. It’s just my luck that she fell for the one guy I used to hate, for most of my career.
“Sup, Romero?” Cam greets me with a chin nod as he warms up his arm with our number two catcher, Lucas Snell, squatting for him.
I’m thankful for the break. My thirties are finally catching up with me. The cracks and pops in my knees and hips get louder with each passing season. I’ve even started slipping yoga into my workout routine to help with my mobility and ease the aches. Gotta admit it’s working.
“Nothing. Just thankful I’m out of rotation today. I hate catching for your slow ass,” I tease.
Snell chuckles behind his mask as Cam barks a laugh. “You only hate catching for me because your hand can’t handle my heat.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, pretty boy.” I roll my eyes at him.
Cam flips me off. “Don’t make me rat you out to your sister.”
