"Way to make a guy feel old," I grumbled. Was there a point to this story?
"All this time, I thought they were wrong about you. The media rags, the shit on social media." He slammed the locker shut despite his state of undress. "But then you go and throw away a woman like that."
That had me seeing red and balling my fists. The locker room probably wasn't the place to be having this conversation, but I didn't care if he was my teammate or not. Nobody was allowed to talk about Clarke like that.
"You don't know anything about it, kid."
"I know that you don't deserve her," he said, puffing his chest.
"That we can agree on."
A clump of half-dressed guys gathered around us, close enough to stop a fight if it came to that, although I hoped it didn't. I had just started to like our loudmouth pitcher.
"I also know that the second she, what, got a little scared, you went running. Is that it?"
"That's enough," I said through gritted teeth. I wasn't about to air my and Clarke's dirty laundry in front of the entire team. "You don't know anything about me, or her, or—"
"For fuck's sake, dude. I've known exactly who she is since the minute we met."
And then, in an especially daring move which made me think he might have been looking for a fight, Pink took two steps forward, bringing us nearly nose to nose.
"I grew up in the same rich bitch circles that she did. She's not the only one who made it out."
That stopped me cold. For as much talking as Pink did, he hardly ever spoke about his family history. He'd mentioned his sister a couple of times, usually when somebody ribbed him about the stuffed bear he kept in his locker, but that was it. I might've guessed he came from money, due to his luxurious spending habits, but that could've also been chalked up to him being a young, hot baseball player. Rookies tended to spend their signing bonuses like Monopoly money.
"I didn't know."
"You never asked."
He had me there. Some team captain I was.
There was a lot more to Pink than the smooth-talking goofball. I'd realized that the night I brought him back to Bed of Roses. I had expected some story about an ex-girlfriend or boyfriend, but not this.
I wasn't the only one hurting, that much was clear. Pink just did a better job of hiding his hurt.
"You're right," I told him, admitting my wrongdoings, something I would have shied away from a few months ago. "As your captain, and yourfriend,I should have asked."
He blinked, clearly taken aback by my words. And he wasn't the only one.
"Fuck, guys," Diaz said, cutting the tension faster than my mom's garden shears. "Can you kiss and make up already? We're going to be late for movie—"
Bennett smacked Diaz's stomach with his catcher's mitt, hard enough to knock the wind—and the words—out of him. He nodded for me to continue.
I turned back to Pink. "I'm sorry, man. I've been so caught up in my own shit that I didn't—"
"It's fine," he said, cutting me off.
"I'll do better."
Matty stepped forward. "We all will."
Fuck, I loved these guys. I still kept in touch with a few of my previous teammates. I attended their weddings and called them on their birthdays, but this was something else. Something special.
"I appreciate that," Pink said. "But back to your girl—"
"She's not my girl. She doesn't want to be with me."
"She said that?" Diaz asked.
