I was pretty sure I had stopped breathing.
I pressed a hand to Jase’s chest and felt his heart pounding under my palm.
Dylan moved beside me, and our eyes met. “Please don’t think I’m saying it just because he did, but I love you too, Princess.”
Tears burned behind my eyes. These two guys, who I thought were going to be nothing more than a fun summer fling almost two years ago, had somehow turned my world upside down. With every fiber of my being, I knew I was meant to be theirs, just as they were mine.
“I love both of you too.”
Inside, the gala carried on without me. Out in the shadows, I had everything I needed.
23
Jase
One MonthLater
My name wason the spring training lineup card with the big guys, and I kept pretending I wasn’t checking it every time I walked past it in the dugout before the game started.
8. Matthewson, SS
Camp was full of guys like me on non-roster invites, trying to crash the party from the minor-league side. I’d already picked up a few innings here and there, put in as a late substitute after the big-league guys got their work in. This was different, though. This was my first start, and it mattered a hell of a lot more to me than it ever would to the standings.
I glanced at the other card posted beside ours for the visiting team.
2. Statler, CF
The Crushers and Red Sox were in the same division, which meant Dylan and I would see each other a lot during spring training and the regular season—probably a hundred times if we stayed in the same minor league division.
But seeing his name on the Crushers’ roster threw off my focus, because I wasn’t used to Dylan being on the other side. Back at UCLA, I’d always known where he’d be: center field behind me, covering my ass on anything that got through, and in the dugout next to me, talking shit, laughing, making everything feel easy. Since we were kids, we were always together, from the start of our day, when we’d have breakfast before heading to the field, to the end of our day when we’d settle in at the address we shared. The more I stared at the lineups, the more I remembered that in a few short weeks, I wouldn’t see him every day.
We’d already compared our schedules, trying to guess where we would start depending on which minor league club we landed with, and circling any windows when Dylan and I could be in the same city, as well as opportunities to make it work with Faye too. It was going to suck, but playing professional baseball was what Dylan and I had strived for our entire lives. We never imagined we’d be dating, and being apart was going to suck on a whole different level.
Cruz, the Sox’s veteran second baseman, came up behind me, his cleats clicking on the dugout’s concrete. He glanced at the board, then at me. “You know it’s not going to change,” he said. “Hill isn’t out here changing his mind.”
“I’m just making sure I didn’t dream it,” I answered.
“If you had, you would’ve hit higher than eighth,” he teased, slapping me on the back.
I would also have dreamed of Dylan and I playing together.
We lined up for the anthem, caps off, eyes forward. Dylan stood across from me on the other foul line. When I looked over, he caught my eye and winked. I nodded and faced forward again.
As soon as the music ended, Cruz jogged toward second. I peeled off to short, Palmer went to first, and Smith to third. Cline finished warming up on the mound while we tossed the ball around the infield. A few times, my gaze drifted to the visitors’ dugout, where I caught a glimpse of Dylan putting on his helmet and batting gloves or talking to a teammate before he needed to be in the on-deck circle.
We’d grabbed dinner the night before, then sat in my car and video-called Faye.
“Hi,” she answered, smiling at the screen.
“Hey, Princess.” I grinned back.
“Whatcha up to?” Dylan asked her.
“Murder shows and comfy clothes.”
I snorted. “Trying to learn how to off us?”
“Mayyyybe,” she teased.
