The Dugout(115)

He strokes my cheek softly and brings his lips to mine where he presses a whisper of a kiss across my mouth, so gentle and so delicate. “You have my word . . . Coach.”

Smiling, I tackle him to the ground again and next to the field where we developed our relationship, I solidify my future with the man of my dreams.





Epilogue





MILLY





“Are you ever going to stop crying?” Shane asks next to me, mouth full of popcorn.

I shake my head, tears still streaming down my face as I watch Carson take the Bobcats field, looking handsome as ever in his tailored uniform. “I’m just so happy for him.”

Jerry sips his beer and wipes his eyes. “I have to admit, I’m getting emotional as well. The dude has had a rough life, but look at him now. Fucking starting second baseman for the Bobbies.” Shouting and pointing at Carson—even though he can’t hear Jerry—he says, “You’re my hero, Carson Stone. That’s our boy.”

“Can you not be that person,” I say to Jerry just as a correspondent for the Bobbies comes up to me with a cameraman.

“Milly Potter?”

I smile kindly, prepared for this moment. After Carson and I made out at the park for what felt like hours, we went back to my place and had slow, all-consuming, toe-curling sex. The best I’ve ever had. That was until the second round . . . and then the third. Basically, every spare moment we’ve had together we’ve been naked. But between catching our breath, Carson walked me through the opening ceremonies and what will happen during the broadcast of the game. He warned me that they were going to come talk to me and asked if that was okay. I told him I’d be honored to represent his family. After that, he spent the rest of the night worshipping my body and I must admit, I missed his heart, his mind, his jokes, and teasing . . . but boy, I didn’t realize how much I missed his tongue until a few days ago.

“That’s me.”

“I’m Taylor Hutchinson.” I know exactly who she is. She’s the on-field correspondent for the Bobbies, the girl who gets to interview the boys after the game, one of the best jobs ever. But instead of fangirling the poor lady, I play it cool and shake her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“We’re just going to ask you a few questions about Carson if that’s okay. It will be live, so please make sure not to swear.”

Shane leans in and says, “That means you can’t say fuck.”

With my palm, I push him away and mutter, “Thanks.”

Sitting tall, I smile at the camera as Taylor gives us a countdown and then turns on her camera face. “Yes, I’m here with Milly Potter. Some might know her as the girl who’s changing swings around Chicago over at D1 Athletics, others might know her as Cory Potter’s sister, but here, we know her as the girl behind Carson Stone. As he has told us many times, she’s the girl behind his swing, and the one who owns his heart.” Taylor clutches her chest and turns the mic to me. “Milly, tell us how you met Carson.”

Smiling, I say, “Well, it all started in a panini line . . .”





“Ahhhhh,” Shane and Jerry scream at the same time as Carson approaches us, freshly showered and walking with some pep in his step from starting the season off with a solid win. “Our hero.”

Shane and Jerry both run up to Carson who wraps them in a bear hug. Jerry nuzzles Carson’s chest, while Shane pats Carson’s ass. It’s an obscene sight to behold, three grown man mauling each other, but I smile as I lean against the tunnel wall that leads to the locker room and admire some of the most important men in my life.

They finish squeezing each other and then start raining praises all over the man.

“That diving play up the middle. Fucking killer, man.”

“First home run of the season,” Shane shouts with his hand to his mouth.

They go on for a good minute and I just sit back, catching small glimpses from Carson here and there. I can tell he wants to move past my two gushing friends and take me into his arms, but because he’s a good guy and hasn’t seen Jerry and Shane in a long time, he gives them his attention.

It isn’t until Jerry catches me from the corner of his eye, that he says, “Oh shit, maybe you want to hug Milly.”

Eyes trained on me, Carson says, “Yeah.”

Shane pats him on the back, understanding his need to be near me. “We’ll, uh, meet you in the parking lot.”

On their way past me, they both make obnoxious kissing noises—they clearly still haven’t grown up—and head down the hallway, high-fiving each other and talking about the game. Their antics will never get old.

With determination and swagger in every step toward me, his eyes never leaving mine, and when the distance between us is non-existent, he cups my cheek and softly says, “In the locker room, I watched what you said about me, about us, about my mom and dad.” He gets choked up and presses his forehead to mine. “It meant so fucking much to me, Milly. To have you here tonight, cheering me on, wearing my jersey, being the fan in the stands that matters the most. I don’t know how I will ever repay you, but I know I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.”

“You silly boy.” I kiss his lips briefly. “You don’t have to repay me, just promise whenever I ask you to meet me in the dugout, you show up.”