Page 101 of All Tied Down

My phone vibrates in my pocket, Des’s name appearing on the screen as I swipe open the message.

DES: I made the arrangements for next week and emailed all the confirmations to you

EMERSON: Thank you

One week.

I can make the most of one week.

And then it’ll be a formality—separating our lives and going back to the way they were before our drunken night in Vegas.

That feels like a lifetime ago.

“Colt’s up!” Kat shouts as we all crowd around the glass to watch him bat. Embracing the distraction, I watch as Colt assumes his stance and waits for the pitch.

He takes the first one as a strike and the next two outside. Kat won’t stop bouncing as she watches her brother while Nico’s girls press their faces to the glass, drawing little designs in the condensation from their breath.

I’ve never been good with the different kinds of pitches, but the next one appears to be a fastball toward home plate.

It looks like it’s headed right for the catcher’s mitt but then Colt swings, his bat connecting with the ball, sending it flying deep into centerfield.

Whoops and cheers go around as Colt rounds first and slides into second, the crowd going wild as he stands up and adjusts his gloves.

The next batter hits a single and Colt hustles his way to third with only one out.

“Did you see that?” Roan says behind me.

“Yeah,” Garrett replies, making me turn to look back at the two of them both frowning out at the field.

“See what?” I ask.

“He shook out his leg.” Roan nods toward Colt’s general direction.

“So?”

He doesn’t get a chance to answer as we all watch the runner on first try to steal second, the catcher throwing the ball to the second baseman as soon as it hits his glove.

And Colt runs for home.

Like he knows the ball is coming back toward the catcher, Colt dives for home, sliding across the plate to a cacophony of cheers both in the stadium and in our private suite.

But then he doesn’t get up right away.

Instead, he rolls onto his back as someone from the dugout runs onto the field. It feels like a lifetime before Colt is pulled to his feet, his arm draped over what looks like the trainer’s shoulder as he limps off the field.

“What happens now?” I ask, my gaze bouncing between Roan, Garrett, and Kat.

“Now we wait.”

40

GARRETT

The drive home from the stadium is a quiet one. Colt’s injury, while minor, will take him out of the lineup for a few weeks to ensure his hamstring is fully healed before he returns. I know it’s part of the game, but seeing it happen right there in the stadium was something else.

I’m spoiling for a fight the second Emerson and I walk through the door to my house, her heels clicking across the floor while she answers a stream of nonstop messages.

“Is that still for the acquisition?” I ask, trying to keep my tone in check as I prop my hip against the counter.