“Damn. Shoulder?”
I nod again but don’t put words to it. Call me superstitious, but if I don’t say it out loud, it isn’t a real problem.
“Whose shoulder?”
Ah, fuck.
I hadn’t noticed Mattias, the head trainer, was standing nearby. Close enough to hear Monty, apparently. The traitor slides down the bench, away from me, and that’s enough for Mattias to focus his attention on me.
“Yami?”
“It’s tired,” I say, hoping that’s enough.
It’s not. He comes over beside me and starts rotating my shoulder, poking and prodding, staring at my face for any sign of discomfort. He goes through a full assessment, and I know better than to hide it, so when he hits one spot, I wince.
“Yeah, that doesn’t feel so great. Just tight, I think.”
“Hmm,” he says. “I think you’re done for today. I want you in an ice bath, then we’ll tape it before you head to the bus.”
I curse under my breath but give him a nod of acknowledgment. His smile is probably meant to be sympathetic, but it’s just annoying to me. I watch him head over to Coach’s side and update him. Coach’s head snaps around to look at me, then he turns forward again, leaning against the railing.
Darling comes off the field. Shit, I feel bad I didn’t even realize he was up to bat, much less running the bases. Given the grin on his face, I’d guess he just scored another run.
He drops down next to me, stripping off his batting gloves. “These assholes are makin’ us work.”
I grunt. He looks over at me, his brows drawing together. “You good?”
“Out for the last two innings.”
“Shit. Why?”
“Shoulder.” I give it a rotation. It still doesn’t feel like anything more than some tightness, but better to be careful when you’re a starting pitcher.
“Your sister gives spectacular shoulder massages when I’m sore.” He grins, winking at me. “Too bad she saves it all for me.”
“Fuck off. What did I say about talking to me about whatever you and Evie get up to?” I groan as I turn and glare at him. There’s no heat behind it, however. I really am happy for the two of them. That doesn’t mean I need to be thinking about my sister putting her hands on my best friend.
“Maybe your old friend Isabelle will give you a rubdown,” he teases and I growl under my breath.
“Shut. Up.”
He glances over at Coach, then back to me, his smirk falling into a concerned expression. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Fuck, Yami, if he finds out about you two…”
“It’s in the past. There’s nothing to find out.”
Nothing except the best kiss I’ve had in eight fucking years.
“Still. Better be careful.”
“I’m not the one teasing about her giving me a fucking massage,” I hiss.
Holding his hands up, Darling stands and steps away. “Point taken.”
But later, on the bus carrying us back to the hotel, I stare out the window, thinking about Isabelle. That kiss forced me to face one fact. I still want her.
More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.
It’s not just about how easy it is to be around her, how quickly it feels like I have my best friend back, the woman who makes me relax completely. Her presence calms my soul, and the taste of her, the feel of her lips, the warmth of her body against mine is heaven.
