We reach the curb. Lucas holds out his hand for a high five. I slap it, and he pulls it down, sliding his fingers over my palm until our bent fingertips catch.
It’s a standard high-five-handshake move—my brothers do it all the time—but not like this. His thumb brushes the inside of my wrist in a way that sends a wave of goosebumps up my arm.
The contact is brief, explainable—too much and not nearly enough.
But then I feel eyes on me, and I catch a glimpse of Logan climbing onto the bus.
Watching. Not smiling. Just watching.
I drop my hand first.
“Good luck this morning,” I say.
“You too.”
He steps onto the bus without looking back. Logan follows, but not before flicking his gaze at me one more time.
He didn’t see anything. There was nothing to see.
But Logan doesn’t need to see something to know it. That’s the problem.
And if he knows, he won’t be able to keep himself from doing something about it.
That's the bigger one.
***
After a marathon strategic planning discussion at Doug’s gorgeous rambler home, I have more direction about what he wants from me and way more stress. He’s one of the most well-liked GMs in baseball, and the fact that Kayla thinks highly of him makes me want to impress him even more.
He leans back in his chair. “I watched the videos you sent of media training with the Fischers. They handled themselves well.”
“They did,” I say, sitting up straighter. “They’re coachable.”
Doug steeples his fingers. “You think you could double up and run a few of those sessions with Jake while he’s down here?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I say, clearing my throat so he doesn’t pick up on the wobble in it. “It’s hard enough separating work and personal with him.”
Doug studies me. “To hear Kayla talk about you, you’re way too competent to let that blur. And we both know he needs the extra help.”
His nostrils flare, but he’s too decent of a guy to rant about the man he thinks is my boyfriend in front of me.
There are still a few ops people in the room, so I lower my voice. “About that party last fall. I just—I want to say how sorry I am about Jake.”
Doug exhales. “I know he didn’t realize she was married. I still wanted to punch him, but that’s not the issue.”
“What is?”
“He doesn’t think about other people.” Doug shakes his head. “I don’t know how you’re dating him.”
“I know him too well not to be there for him,” I say, loyalty flaring in me. Doug could forgive Jake of almost anything if he knew what he’d been through. “I’ve seen him go through more than any person should have to.”
Doug studies me. “I get that. But he’s got to care about his teammates more. I want my guys to respect each other enough that they don’t even get close to crossing lines.”
Crossing lines?
My phone buzzes in my bag right then—four quick buzzes that tell me without checking exactly who it is. I flatten my hand against my bag and leave it there. Doug’s eyes flick down toward the sound and then back up to me.
“I think you’ll be a good presence during Spring Training, Scottie. Glad to have you on board.”
