Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 109505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109505 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
The coaches shake their heads, and a few of the players who don’t have their boxers in a bunch laugh, dancing along.
We take the field-level seats Coach hooked us up with and kick back to watch the game, but a half hour in, these fucking things are killing us, so we step out of them, passing them off to some drunk frat boys a few rows back.
By the fourth inning, Xavier has seen all he came to see, and to his frustration, the kid’s not half bad. He has the ability to give X a run for his money next year if Coach decides to take him on, and he just might. If he looks this clean out here, he’ll only look better when he’s playing up a level and against worthy opponents.
X takes off up the steps, and Neo sighs beside me, turning his head to me.
Concern lines his eyes, but he nods, and I know what he’s thinking.
He and his boy will figure it out, he’ll be out there with him day and night, helping him bust his ass, and pushing him like only a good friend would.
“Come on, man. Our boy’s gonna need a beer or five.” Neo pushes to his feet, offering me a hand, but as I stand, something draws my eyes left, and every muscle in my body locks up.
Two sections up and four seats to the right, a familiar messy ball of hair shines in the sun.
Unsure I’m seeing things right, I squeeze my eyes shut, giving my head a little shake, and when they open, nothing’s changed. It’s her.
“Cruz,” Neo snaps, and I reluctantly look to him.
“Go. I’m gonna hang back, get a ride.”
“You sure, bro? ‘Cause once we hit the party, there’ll be no driving for us.”
I nod, pushing him off as I lower back into the seat. “I’m good, man,” I say, unsure he’s even still there to hear it.
All I know is Meyer is here, at a junior college baseball game twenty miles away from campus when I couldn’t even get the girl to come to mine, a D fucking 1 University game that I play in. Sure, she’d have been at my last one had she not found the opportunity to send my mom instead, but that’s not the fucking point.
She’s here and as I stare at the girl across the field, I realize she’s not only here … she’s here with someone, that or the guy to her left has decided to get friendly, attempting to chat her up and waiting to see if she bites.
I think she’s biting.
She leans over, stealing the blond fucker’s popcorn, and laughs when he tosses a small handful at her. Blindly taking my phone from my pocket, I call her, my knee bouncing as I wait to see what she does.
I sit forward when she starts digging in her bag, but it goes to voice mail before she can pull it out, so I quickly redial, and then her phone is in her hands.
My pulse thumps and then it fucking knocks when she slowly tosses the thing back down, my call not even being ignored but disregarded completely.
Then it gets worse.
Meyer shifts in her seat, and suddenly Bailey is there, in her lap, but she doesn’t stay there long.
The dude at her side snags her, bringing her in to kiss her cheek.
The way I like to.
He holds her against him.
The way I’ve done, too.
Anger and confusion swim in my gut, and it’s followed by a searing sense of jealousy, all that mixed with the heat, and I might just fucking vomit.
Who the hell is this dude?
I’ve never seen him and from here, he looks like a tall, decent-looking fucker.
He’s wearing a hat like a hat’s meant to be worn and his tattoos are showing under the sleeves of his T-shirt. It’s not tight like some gym junkie, but it’s easy to see he’s fit.
And that my girl is comfortable with him, maybe too comfortable.
Another thought hits, stinging my insides in ways I can’t explain.
Is this Bailey’s dad?
We’ve never talked about that, her having one or not. Who he is or what he’s like.
If he was a good man or a bad man, or worthy of being called a man at all.
He must be, if this is him, because he’s holding one of my girls and the other sitting beside him would never let him close if he weren’t.
Either way, the girl to his right isn’t his to touch.
She’s mine.
I fly from my seat and walk my ass all the way around the stadium, posting up on the tunnel they’ll be forced to exit through come the end of this game.
Time seems to tick by slowly, but eventually her laughter assaults me, and my fingers begin to twitch. As they step around, the guy throws an arm around her, pulling her to him as she pushes Bailey along in her stroller.