She smacked his arm and laughed at his teasing. That felt right. That was the way the world was supposed to turn. “You jagweed.” There. She’d tell her mom she said it to his face. She’d be so proud.
He winked, and her heart sighed.
“I’m going first.” She lifted her chin and flipped her hair over her shoulder. Her attitude included a bounce to her steps that she hadn’t had in ages. Strange, but she felt more like herself when she was with Brayden.
He mumbled something that sounded like “… good view back here,” but she ignored it and kept right on walking.
Her steps slowed as they reached the big double doors. The right led to the front office where she needed to go, the left to the coaches and players. It didn’t feel right to just walk away, not after amomentlike they’d shared. They’d almost had a conversation. “I’m going out with Rowdy tonight after the game.”
“I know.”
She’d have to phrase this question carefully. She needed to know if Brayden still wanted her, if he was at all jealous. But mostly, she needed to know if there was any fight left in him. The Brayden she’d loved was full of competitive spirit. “Is he … is there a reason I shouldn’t?” There, he could tell her Rowdy was a pig who used women and moved on to the next town and she’d break the date without a backward glance. He could tell her the guy had bad table manners and she’d drop him. All she wanted was to believe that Brayden still wanted a shot with her.
He stared at the wall just over her shoulder and grunted, “I can’t think of any. He’s a good guy.”
The hope that had lifted inside of her splintered like a bat broken over a player’s knee after he struck out. She almost couldn’t believe what she’d heard.
“But I wouldn’t be that upset if you just decided not to go.” He glanced at her lips and away again.
If—and she couldn’t believe she was contemplating this—if Brayden wanted her back, then he needed to fight harder than that, because darn it all, she was worth the fight. And she wanted a man who would fight for her. “Sorry to disappoint you.” She went right, and Brayden went left without another word.
The bang of a metal door against a concrete wall made her jump. She flipped around to see Brayden stalking away, his hands fisted by his sides. The image brought a smile to her face. There was some fight left in him still. He just needed to find a reason to let it out of the box and channel it into them.
She smiled to herself. There was something satisfying about the angry hunch to his back. He may not want her to know it, but he was jealous.
She smiled for the rest of the night.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brayden
“Again!” Brayden barked at Gunner.
Gunner glared at him. “That one was perfect.”
“I could have hit that,” Brayden fired back. “And I have always sucked at the plate.”
Gunner threw back his shoulders. Newton tossed him the ball and got back into position. “Could it be,Coach…” Gunner threw the ball, sending it just over the outside of the plate. A perfect strike with just a little zing on the end. “That you’re mad at something else and taking it out on me?” The ball came back and he rubbed it between his flat palms.
Brayden glared. “No.”
“Because you’ve been awfully testy since I started hanging out with Tilly.”
“I’m always like this. Don’t think you’re special.”
“Good. ’Cuz I was thinking of asking her out.”
Brayden barked a laugh, and a jolt skated up his spine and around the back of his head, making him double over. Newton was at his side, one arm under his to keep him upright. He had to concentrate on breathing until the feeling subsided. Gunner jogged over too, a crease in his forehead.
Man, he hadn’t had anything like that happen before. He needed to see Doc. He inflated his lungs again, letting the air out slowly as all traces of the jolt disappeared. He blinked. “You’re too late,” Brayden rasped when he could get enough air. “She’s going out with Rowdy Fuentes after the game.”
Gunner swore and threw his mitt on the ground. Brayden shook off Newton and said “thanks” as Gunner paced. “Fuentes? Seriously?”
Newton smothered a snicker at the two of them. “You guys are pathetic.”
“Shut up,” they said in unison.
“That son of a—” Gunner cut off before he finished.
