When the video shifts to a small spring training office instead of the Waves clubhouse, my brows pinch. Then I sit forward, my elbows on my knees, as I watch the interview Alex swore she deleted. My phone rings from its wireless charger in the kitchen, but I’m frozen, watching the trainwreck unfold as a yawning pit opens in my stomach.
How could she?
Hadn’t I explained my not-so-flattering relationship history on our date? I’d even told Alex the embarrassing truth about how I’ve been listening to romance audiobooks to figure out what’s wrong with me.
I turn off the TV, pacing a tight circle with my hands on my head. I should probably check who called, though I know it’s my agent, Brad. I wonder if he’s already called Alex to chew her out with passive-aggressive professionalism.
Alex.
A thought sparks like a tiny beacon.
Maybe this is a mishap. Maybe Alex didn’t know about our interview being released. She’s complained a few times about her boss preferring sensationalist journalism over solid reporting. Maybe all of this was out of her hands?
I bolt to the kitchen, snatching my phone off the counter. My call rings once before a computerized voice states, “The number you have dialed is unavailable.”
I pull the phone away from my ear, blinking. “She blocked me? What in the—”
Another call pops onto the screen, and I answer it.
“Hey, man,” Rhett says, voice cautious. “How are things?”
“You saw.”
“I saw.” He lets a beat settle between us before asking, “Want to talk about it?”
My head shakes as I try to process what just happened. Alex completely betrayed me. A part of me wants to hang up and rewatch the clip just to make sure I’m not hallucinating. Or maybe I’m still dreaming? I pinch my thigh, but nope. I’m awake.
“Tenny?”
“Yeah?” My throat feels like it’s coated in sand.
“I’m sorry. I know how much you liked her.”
In an attempt toprotect Alex, I didn’t tell anyone about us. Mallory, Kenzie, and the rest of the WAGs thought I was just playing the part of fake boyfriend in front of Mags. Kenzie had been the most disappointed when I told her there was nothing real between Alex and me, but I figured it was because she genuinely wants to help me with my relationship troubles.
I only told Rhett the truth.
He’s been my best friend since I signed with the Waves. We’re both the same age, in the middle of our contracts, and there’s something about our personalities that just…meshes. Except that Rhett iswaymore practical than I am.
As the team’s shortstop, he and I work closely together. Roughly forty percent of infield throws are from shortstop to first. Rhett gets the ball to me so often that I’ve learned his throwing style and know when to adjust my positioning based on how it comes off his fingers.
“Why don’t we grab lunch together? Do you want to go to that soup place that always seats us in the back corner?”
I’d planned on wallowing in self-pity for the rest of the day, but I can’t pass on the French onion soup at The Salty Spoon.
“Would you”—Rhett coughs—“want your sister to come along?”
I grimace. “I’d rather take a foul ball to the forehead.”
The last thing I need is for Zona to know about this. For as petite as my sister is, she gets scary feral when protecting Georgia and me. I could just see her tracking Alex down and doing something reckless. I don’t want to have to deal with contacting lawyers and bailing her out of jail when there’s already a fist-sized hole in my chest.
“Meet you in an hour?”
“Sure,” I say before hanging up.
Setting my hands on my hips, I stare at the floor. My fingertips are completely numb, and I’m not even sure I’m breathing. I’ve been dumped before—tons of times, unfortunately—but it’s never hurt like this. My ribs squeeze inward as my mind replays every conversation, every flirty smile. Was I really so blind to not realize that she’d been playing me all along?
A painful breath shakes free of my tight lungs as my phone pings with several rapid-fire texts.
