Van bursts out with a laugh. “You’re half his size.”
“I don’t give a shit. I’ll kill the fucker.”
She sobers, her eyes, the same color as mine, holding my gaze. “I know you would. But he’s not worth it, Gabs.”
“Ben got to beat him up,” I reply with a pout.
“Ben could have gotten hurt,” Van says.
“Have you met Ben?” I shake my head and laugh at the lunacy of her statement. “No one hurts Ben.”
Except you, Van.
“If you have this handled, I’ll head home.”
“I have this.” I hug my sister close. “And I have your back, too, if you ever need me.”
“I know. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
Chapter Nine
~Rhys~
My shoulder is improving every day. Kate was right to suggest that I come here to recover. I don’t know if it’s the quiet, the calm of this particular place, or if it’s that there is no pressure from coaches and trainers constantly breathing down my neck, watching my every move, always asking, “How do you feel now?”
Having Sam around to ask questions and be the fun, silly kid that he is has been awesome, and I admit that I miss him.
It’s probably a combination of all of the above.
I’m in the barn, working out on Friday afternoon. There is barely a hitch in my shoulder as I execute one hundred push-ups. I’m ready for more weight. Maybe I’ll have Gabby come out and sit on my shoulders.
I know that being with Gabby has been awesome. Easy, and yet one of the most complicated relationships I’ve had, which doesn’t even make sense to me. It’s easy to be with her. To talk to her, make her smile, listen to her laugh.
Make love to her. Let’s be honest, lose myself in her. She’s pushed everything around me out of focus, even baseball, and no one has ever done that for me before.
It scares me and exhilarates me at the same time. Baseball can’t shift out of focus for me. It is my life, and it’ll continue to be my life after I leave this place.
This isn’t permanent.
I need to remember that.
I’m a sweaty mess as I brush my hands off and walk toward the house. Maybe I’ll talk Gabby into a shower with me.
Probably not. She’ll be in work mode, and she’s fierce when she’s in work mode, which just makes her all the more sexy to me. Her work ethic is incredible, and whether that’s in spite of, or because of, her privileged upbringing, I don’t know.
All I know is, I admire the fuck out of her.
As I walk in the back door and into the kitchen, I can hear her voice coming from the desk where she greets guests. The voices are just murmurs, and then she laughs, and I can’t help but smile and feel a little jealous of whoever made her laugh in the first place, because they get to see her eyes shine and the way she wrinkles her nose, just a little, when her smile is wide.
Jesus, I have it bad.
I pull a bottle of water from the fridge, twist off the cap and guzzle two-thirds of it before walking down the hall toward the sound of the voices. I stop dead in my tracks when I see my teammate, Neil Miller, leaning on the desk and smiling at Gabby as she gestures with her hands, telling him something that I can’t hear over the roaring in my ears.
Neil leans in and brushes Gabby’s hair behind her ear and that’s it. I’ll be fucking damned if another man will put his hands on her while I’m still in the picture.
Hell no.
“You might want to drop that hand before I remove it from your body,” I say, surprised to hear the words come out calmly, as I approach the desk.
“Just the man I’m looking for!” Neil says as he saunters to me, but my eyes are still pinned to Gabby, who’s now frowning at me. Her cheeks are pink with anger or embarrassment, I’m not sure, and I don’t give a fuck which it is, honestly.
“What’s up, Neil?”
He glances between me and the woman he was flirting with, then tips his head back and laughs. “Was I poaching, bro?”
“I’m not your bro,” I reply and turn my gaze to my young teammate, taking in his tired eyes and rumpled clothes. “Did you say you came here looking for me?”
The humor leaves his face and he nods as he looks at the floor. “Can you take a minute?”
I nod and gesture toward the kitchen, but before following him, I pull Gabby against me, kiss her hard and murmur against her lips, “Reserve thirty minutes for me this afternoon.”
I turn and leave before she can respond, following Neil through the kitchen where I pull more water bottles out of the fridge. Then I push ahead and lead him outside, back toward the barn where I know we can talk without any guests listening that may be milling about.
We push inside the surprisingly cool barn, thanks to thick oak trees overhead. I straddle the weight bench that arrived the other day, drink water, and watch Neil as he paces back and forth, agitated.
Exhausted.
“What’s going on?” I finally ask. “Does Coach know you’re here?”
He shrugs, then stops, shoves his hands in his pockets, and stares at his feet. Neil is in his mid-twenties, tall and built, and a favorite among the female fans. He joined us last year, coming up from the minor leagues, and he’s a gifted player, but it’s no secret that he’s been struggling.
“I think I’m fucking this up,” he finally admits and reaches for one of the water bottles, tears the cap off and throws it across the room before drinking half of it in two gulps.
“Okay.”
“Coach doesn’t know I’m here, but he made me take the week off.”
I cock a brow, surprised. “Which means that you’re either about to get arrested, or kicked out of the League if you don’t get your shit together.”
He rubs the back of his hand over his mouth, and then just sits down on the floor, right where he was standing, and rests his elbows on his raised knees.
“Pretty much.”
“What have you been doing since I left?”
“Are you coming back?” he asks, his eyes on mine now, looking hopeful.
“That’s the plan.”
He nods. “I love baseball.”
“I know. You play it like you love it.” He blinks rapidly, clearly surprised by the compliment. “You’re my catcher, Neil. I watch you, all game, every game.”
“My knees hurt,” he admits. “I’m twenty-five fucking years old, and my knees are killing me all the time.”
“Are you hooked on pain pills?” I ask bluntly.
“No.” He shakes his head and sucks down more water. “The minors were very different,” he begins softly. “I mean, there were parties after games, and there was some stupid shit that went down, but that was nothing compared to this. There’s drugs and women and money being flung at me from every direction.”
“Are you in trouble?” I ask again.
“No. Coach told me to take a week to get my head on straight before I get arrested or kicked off the team.” He pushes his hands through his hair, scrubbing his scalp. “So I got in my car and drove straight here. You’re the one I’ve always been able to talk to.”
I miss this. Talking with the younger guys, giving them advice. I realize that when baseball is all over in a few years, this will be what I miss the most.
My teammates.
“So you’ve acquired a taste for hot women and money? Because if you tell me you’re doing drugs, I’ll take you down so fast you won’t wake up in time to go back next week.” I calmly drink my water, watching his face.
“I’m not doing drugs,” he replies fiercely. “That’s not me.”
“Good.”
“The women and money, I like.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
He shrugs his shoulders, and won’t meet my gaze.
“I have two separate women claiming they’re pregnant with my kid,” he says softly. “And I don’t even remember fucking either of them.”
Ouch.
“Are you sure you did?”
He shakes his head. “Dude, I get so fucked up after a game, especially a win, I can’t be sure of anything.”
“Idiot.”
He winces and nods. “I know.”