He arched a brow at me. “That’s not why I’m doing it.”
No, I could see it wasn’t. And it was only my ill mood making me see all the wrong things. Joe liked giving back to the community, and this was an easy way to do it. Especially since Gia probably did all the work.
Meanwhile, Joe took a casual pose as he asked the question of my entire month. “You going to break 300?”
He was referring to my batting average, and right there was why I hadn’t wanted the publicity in the first place. Any other time, a thirty point climb would be extraordinary. But because of the publicity, I now I had to break 300. “Of course, I’m doing everything I can, but—”
“I’m not asking if you’re trying. Hell, everyone knows you’re trying. Thing is, I can’t look sideways at a reporter without him asking about it.”
“I’ll get us a home run against the Rangers. Things are really coming together for me. I can feel it.”
Joe arched a skeptical brow. Well, what the hell had he expected me to say? I had to fulfill the promise that Gia had created…which meant I had to deliver a home run against the Rangers. I must have looked slightly sick at the thought because Joe grunted in an affectionate male way.
“Don’t let the pressure get to you.”
“Not a chance,” I said. Hell, now I was lying straight to my boss’s face.
I was grateful when Joe was pulled into a group photo. That allowed me to slide into the crowd. I pretended I was keeping an eye on my teammates. All good guys, but some of them could be crass, especially after a few beers. But everyone was on their best behavior, and the truth was, I was really looking for Gia.
I found her near the front of the box, leaning back against the glass as she talked to her family. She looked the way she always did, curvy, with a riot of big mink-colored curls about her face. She was in heels but was still short compared to her brothers. But most of all, her face was alive with happiness. Joy shone through her eyes as she hugged her mother. I recognized everyone from the picture on her desk and marveled at how people with no genetic connection could look so similar.
Her parents were obviously of Irish descent. One brother was African-American, the other Latino, like Gia. Her younger sister had to be here somewhere, but I remembered from the photo that she was African-American as well. And yet, they all seemed like one family. Same bright eyes and easy smile. Same gestures as they spoke with animated hands and musical laughs. Their clothes were nice without being ostentatious, and the love between them shone like the sun.
I could see it in the way they touched each other. A casual squeeze of the arm or a more brotherly shove with a shoulder. They often found a way to connect with their mother, and I remembered doing that with my own. She would tousle my hair or pinch my cheek. When she was angry, she would flick her fingers at my lips. A tiny sting, a big guilt trip. I was sure she spanked me at some point, but what I remembered most was snuggling up with her in bed. Not just after she was sick, when that was the only thing we could do together, but even before. She would join me in my blanket fort, and she’d read aloud to me while I curled into her side.
Silly kid’s stuff, but I ached for it. And looking at Gia’s family, I realized there would have been lots of reading time or blanket snuggles with them. Or maybe not, since Gia hadn’t been brought into the family until she was ten. But the way they looked at each other now told me that they’d found a way, even as pre-teens. It didn’t matter what the biology was, they were a family, and I was desperately happy for her, as well as deeply jealous. There was a warmth between them that wasn’t in my own family, even before my mother’s illness.
“Should I break your knees now? Or wait until after the series?”
I turned to see Gia’s younger sister standing before me. Her eyes were hard and her stance cocky. She had her fists on her hips, and her chin lifted in challenge. And where I first thought there was humor in her question, I wasn’t so sure now, looking at the dark curl to her lips.
“Um, hi, Bailey. I’m Connor—”
“I know who you are.” She jerked her chin around, her expression full of attitude. “I’d break your face, but that’d ruin the party.”
“Is there a reason you’re trying to go all badass on me?”
She stepped forward and got straight in my face. “You’ve got no right saying she’s less than you—”
“What?”
“Me, I’ve stolen cars. My brothers over there? They ran drugs when they were little. Different gangs, same way to survive. All of us here have done shit, but not Gia. She’s better than gold. But you don’t see any of that, just because you can catch a ball—”
“Now hold on—”
“You made her cry, asshole.”
She paused, but I didn’t have a response. And when she saw she’d silenced me, she went in for the kill.
“You called her a liar and said you don’t respect her.” She suddenly straightened. “She’s done more to help others than you could ever imagine. When was the last time you helped with a fundraiser or spent time with foster kids? What have you done for a charity? Have you ever fought for a cause that wasn’t tied to your career?” She arched a brow at me and said haughtily, “You aren’t worth the dirt on her shoes.”
Then she spun on her heel and walked away.
I stood there staring, feeling my face heat and my stomach knot. I wanted to grab her back and defend myself, but I couldn’t. The truth was, I put all my time into training, and any charity I helped was one where Gia set up the appearances. God, I was a first-class dick, and I felt my whole body flush with shame.
I didn’t look down on Gia or any of the people in this room. I didn’t feel superior. And I sure as hell knew that they’d been through a much worse childhood than I had. Many were still in it. But I didn’t trust them with my secrets, either. And now, just standing among them made me feel vulnerable.
Suddenly the lights on the diamond were turned on. A cheer went up, and families hurried outside. I could have ducked out right then. I wanted to, but Cassie suddenly tugged on my elbow.
