I really am hungry.
“Ah, damn it,” I grumble as I realize I’m holding a veggie dog. No shade to vegetarians, but fake meat just isn’t my thing. Spying a nearby garbage can, I toss it in, then open the bag of chips. At least those are good. Ketchup chips are supreme.
I continue to glance over at Iz, and the second I see Mike and Willow walk away, I straighten and beeline my way to her, weaving through the crowd until I’m by her side. Without a word or a second thought, I grab her hand and tug her down the three steps into the visitor’s dugout.
She pulls her hand free, lifting it to cover her mouth as we stand there, staring at each other.
“What the actual fuck are you doing here?”
The words come out harsh and jagged. I pull my hat off my head and rake my fingers through my hair before putting it back on. All of a sudden, my knees feel weak. I sit on the bench, never letting my gaze drop from her. I thought about what I’d say if I ever saw her again, but now that I’m face-to-face with her, I can’t remember a damn thing.
“I-I had no idea you were on his team, I swear,” she stammers out. A part of me is relieved she clearly didn’t know I’d be here. I’m not sure why, but that would have hurt more, if she knew, somehow, and I didn’t.
Another part of me can’t quite believe it. She didn’t even bother to check if I was on the team that her fucking stepfather coaches. Guess I know where I stand.
I bark out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, well, I thought you were a little kid.”
She looks confused for a second, but I don’t really feel like explaining myself, so I just shake my head, still gobsmacked that she’s here.
“Damn it, Iz.” I exhale, and finally let my head fall back to stare at the ceiling of the dugout. I don’t know what else to say. Or how the hell to handle this.
She starts to say something, but then a female voice interrupts us.
“There you are, Belles. I — oh. Sorry, am I interrupting?”
A blonde woman who looks so much like Isabelle, they could be sisters, not mother and daughter, looks between the two of us.
It’s cowardly, maybe, especially since I’m the one who dragged her down here, but since I’m still reeling, and at a total loss on what to do or say, I take the chance to escape.
“Not at all, ma’am. Isabelle and I were just saying hi. Turns out, we went to the same college.” I force a hopefully polite smile and reach out my hand. I’m not fool enough to disrespect Coach’s new wife, even if she is the mother of the woman who broke my heart. “Kai Yamaki. Congrats on your wedding. Coach is a great guy.”
The older woman’s face brightens. “Oh, that’s so cool you two know each other! What a small world.” She shakes my hand firmly. “I’m Leanne. You’re one of the pitchers, right? And please don’t call me ma'am, it makes me feel old.”
I nod. “Noted. You’ll have to excuse me, I should get back to the party.”
Leanne turns to her daughter and says, “Yeah, I came to find you because Tony wanted to take us on a tour of the stadium. I told him how you used to love baseball.”
I don’t miss the pain that flashes over Isabelle’s face, but her mom somehow doesn’t notice.
“Sure. Sounds good.” Isabelle looks up at me, her expression guarded. “Good to see you, Kai.”
“You too, Iz.”
Good to see her? I mean, that’s not exactly the truth, but not completely a lie. Honestly, I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling right now, aside from confused as fuck.
Because like it or not, Isabelle Murphy is back in my life.
Chapter five
Isabelle
“This is so exciting. Oh, look at the snacks! Do you want some popcorn, Belles?” Mom’s excitement is cute, even if I’m not feeling it the same way she is.
“Not right now, thanks,” I reply, my attention pulled to the field. Tony told us this morning that his boss, the team’s owner Mike, insisted we watch the home opener from his box. Which is very generous, and the old me would have been giddy with excitement.
But the current me is less giddy and more flustered.
Nothing, and I do mean nothing, could have prepared me for coming face-to-face with Kai Yamaki the other day.
