Be My Game Changer: A Sports Romance(52)

The words twist at my chest as I picture the two young boys there with a carbon copy of my father. “E.J., it’s not that simple.”

“I know. But you know how this feels. I don’t need simple. I need the fuck out of this house, and I need my brother with me.”

“I’ll see what our options are. But I need you to call me if something else happens. If he tries anything, get out of there and call me.” It doesn’t feel like enough. I want to get both of them someplace safe now.

“I will.”

We chat for a few minutes and even after I hang up, I can’t shake the feeling that I need to go get them right now. Once I’m at Avery’s apartment, I walk inside to find her tucked comfortably on the sofa, watching TV. Her smile fades when she spots my expression. “What’s wrong?”

I step to the sofa, dropping down as she sits straight up, her eyes not leaving me.

“E.J. just called me.”

Her small gasp tells me she knows it wasn’t good news.

“The reason he knew about my dad was because he’s dealing with the same. He wants to get emancipated and take care of his twelve-year-old brother.”

“Where are they? Are they safe?” She picks up her phone, clicking around before looking back to me.

“He asked me not to say anything, but they’re still at home. My lawyer is already working on it.” But he didn’t have any more confidence in the legal system working quickly than I did.

“I have to report it,” she says looking back to her phone.

“I promised him.”

Her fingers halt immediately as she looks up to me. “Carter, I’m legally mandated to report suspected abuse, and even if I wasn’t required to, it should be reported.”

“He promised his little brother he wouldn’t go into foster care. Give my lawyers some time to see what options we have,” I plead. Those troubled hazel eyes tell me she’s having a real hard time going against her instinct. “Just give me until tomorrow.”

She reluctantly agrees as we remain silent, only the sounds of the TV filling the apartment. After a few minutes, she moves closer, resting her head on my chest as my head falls back on the sofa. I know we need to report it, but I can’t let them be separated from each other. I thought being lonely as a child was the worst thing ever, but I imagine having someone only to have them ripped away would be far worse.





42





CARTER





“I’ll see you there.” I kiss Avery, heading to the door. It’s great knowing she’ll be there, but I still feel a heavy cloud hanging overhead.

Once in my truck, I grab my phone and send off a quick message.

Me: You good?

E.J.: Yeah.

Me: I’m working on it, but it might take some time. We need to tell someone and get y’all out of there.

E.J: Like you told everyone about your dad?

Damn. That one hurts because it’s the genuine truth.

Me: I should’ve told someone, but I didn’t. And the ones who knew allowed it to continue. I can’t be that person.

E.J.: I can’t lose my brother.

Me: You won’t. I promise you that.

Because I will do everything in my power to make sure he doesn’t.

The drive to the stadium is quiet, and I see several news vans set up in the media spots outside the stadium. Of course, even without the added abuse story, today is a news day because it’s my first game back since being suspended, and rumors still swirl that I might’ve injured my hand. I hadn’t. I know it’s fine, but I’m not issuing a goddamn statement about it. This time when I step on the field, it’s not my arm I’m worried about cooperating. It’s my mind.





My nerves at this game are getting to me. But once I see her smiling face sitting behind the dugout, most of it subsides. There’s still a little bit that nags, but overall, I feel like I have a grip. I’ll find out soon enough if my mental game is on lock when it’s time to step up to the mound.

Once I’m there, I take a quick second to find her in the crowd. Her smile reaches her eyes as she stands on her feet, clapping and cheering with the rest of the crowd, Bodie beside her, cheering with his hands cupped around his mouth.

The first batter is an easy out, three strikes and done. The second gives me more of a challenge by tipping three balls foul but eventually strikes out. The third hitter pops a fly ball to right field that is caught. Three and done. Now I need to do it again. It’s like riding a bike.

As I’m walking to the dugout, I look up to see hazel eyes peeking at me over the top of a book. I can’t help but laugh and shake my head. Even though I can’t see her mouth, I know she’s smiling and teasing me because her eyes are twinkling with a playful glint. Damn, I never want those eyes to leave me.

Dropping onto the bench, I watch Dundee approach. A stiff posture to his body tells me he’s not happy about something, and I know it’s not my pitching. “He’s here. I tried, but I was overruled.”

Standing up, I walk to the edge of the dugout, and I know exactly where he’s going to be. Right behind home plate. It took some big balls for him to walk into the stadium with all the news that’s going around. Maybe he thinks he can spin the story. Only, I don’t give a fuck what he thinks. I know the story, and I know what I want to write for my future.