The door opened, and Jase stepped in, closing it behind him. His expression mirrored mine, filled with disappointment.
“They’re right, you know,” he said quietly.
I let out a dry laugh. “About what?”
He shrugged. “If we’re honest, how many times did we skip early workouts because we didn’tneedthem, or cut short a batting practice session because we were already swinging well?”
I pushed up on my elbows. “You’re saying we were lazy?”
“I’m saying we coasted when we should’ve been grinding,” he replied, moving farther into the room. “We’re both lucky to have been born with natural talent, but maybe that made us too comfortable.”
Deep down, I knew he was right. We’d been good, but we’d done only the bare minimum to keep our starting positions.
I sat on the edge of the mattress. “So what do we do now? Go back to school and just hope it’s different next summer after we graduate?”
He shook his head. “We don’t hope. Wemakeit different.”
I was quiet for a second, then nodded. “Guess that means no more half-assing it.”
“No more skipping cage time,” he added.
“No more blowing off morning cardio.”
He grinned. “And no more partying.”
That got a small chuckle out of me. “All right. Deal. We’ll hold each other accountable too.”
Jase held out his fist, and I bumped mine against his. “Next year, we’ll give them a reason to regret not drafting us.”
“Fuck yeah.”
A couple of days later,Jase and I rolled our suitcases down the hall of our LA apartment. Mrs. Cohen’s Yorkie barked on the other side of her door as we passed by. We hadn’t talked much on the flight home. Being skipped over in the draft still stung, but we had a plan.
Unlocking the door, I pushed it open, expecting to find a silent, empty living room. Instead, the sound of female chatter filled the space.
“What the hell?” Jase muttered.
“Language, Jase Matthewson,” came a familiar voice from the kitchen.
I blinked. “Jamie?”
We rounded the corner and saw Jamie standing at the counter, a mixing bowl in front of her. At the island, Cammie sat on a stool, scrolling through her phone and sipping a blended coffee drink.
“Surprise!” Jamie smiled.
Jase walked over and wrapped his arms around his mom. “Not that we mind, but what are you doing here?”
“Mom was worried you guys would be too busy wallowing to go grocery shopping,” Cammie replied without looking up.
Jamie shot her a look, then turned back to us. “We brought you some food, cleaned the kitchen, and I left a few meals in the freezer.”
“You didn’t have to do all this.” I gently pulled her away from Jase and hugged her.
“Yes, I did,” her voice softened. “You two had a rough week. Food and family help.”
I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the lump that had formed there. Jamie wasn’t technically my mom. She’d divorced Chase before I’d ever met the Matthewsons, but she’d always treated me like one of her own. My birth mom was toxic as hell, and I hadn’t spoken to her in a few years. It didn’t matter much to me because Jamie stepped up and filled the void my mother had left behind.
“Thanks.” Jase grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “But honestly, we’re okay, and we have a plan.”
