The Dugout(31)

“And what reason is that?” she asks, smoothly scooping some guac onto her chip.

I rub the back of my neck, contemplating how much I should really open up to Milly. In all honesty, I barely know the girl. Hell, I don’t even know her last name, but there’s something about her, maybe her kind eyes, or the way she carries herself, that makes me fully trust her. Like I could tell her anything and she’d never judge me, nor would she ever tell anyone what we talked about.

It's why I’m exposing some of my deepest thoughts. “After the Achilles rupture, I kind of lost trust in everyone around me besides Knox and Holt, my two best friends. If my own teammate could hurt me so badly, who else was about to turn their back on me? All the scouts considering recruiting me quickly changed their minds. The freshmen who’d admired me, quickly turned into my rivals, all vying for my position. It was like the big guy was taken out, so let’s hang him out to dry. After I went through PT, I had the hardest time finding my groove again, and then it was like everyone was offering their advice, some good, mostly bad. I didn’t know who was truly trying to help and who was trying to smash my career.”

“I can understand that. You’re at a level where you have to be very careful who you trust.” She pauses and then asks. “So why did you trust me?”

I should have seen that question coming. “Because I could tell you were someone who wouldn’t screw me over, who actually had good intentions. You have a passion for baseball, not a know-it-all attitude, but a pure passion, and I could jump on board with that. I felt comfortable listening to you because of that passion. Not to mention, you had an entire file on your phone of videos of me.”

Her mouth drops open. “Hey, not just videos of you, of the whole team. Don’t make me seem like a stalker.”

“How many times a night do you watch those videos?”

“Not very often, if you must know, just when I’m trying to study.”

“Which is . . .”

She looks to the side and bites the tip of her finger. “Maybe like every other night.”

My head tilts back as I laugh. “That’s what I thought and that’s why I like you, because you’re honest.”

“What does anyone have to gain from lying?”

My brows shoot up. “Are you serious with that question? Everything. People have everything to gain from lying.”

“But in the long run, doesn’t karma come back to bite you in the ass?”

“One would only hope.” I take another bite of my taco while she does the same. We chew for a while in silence, enjoying the spring air shifting around us. It’s not too cold, but just brisk enough to warrant a sweatshirt. Too bad neither of us is dressed for the part.

“Please tell me the Chicago Bobcats are your favorite team.”

She glances at her food and then back at me. “Hometown girl, I’d be crazy not to like them.”

“What were the best seats you’ve ever had?”

She smirks. “Second row behind home plate.”

I cough up a piece of lettuce. “What? Really?”

She nods. “Yup. It was the best game of my life.”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve. It was Sanderson’s last year at shortstop, and my dad somehow scored tickets from one of his customers. Three seats.”

“Three seats.” I think about it for a second. “How many brothers do you have?”

“Three.” She holds up her fingers before taking another bite.

“Oh damn, let me guess, two of them had to stay home.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “We were all at the game, just three of us were watching it in luxury.”

I chuckle, loving how smug she looks. “Okay, so you got one and your dad got one I’m assuming.”

“Yup, and my brother Cory. Sean and Rian were out.”

“Okay.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “How did you score the good seats?”

“Bucket ball of course. The top two winners got the tickets. It was a shoo-in for me, and that’s why my dad suggested the game to decide. He knew I’d win. He knew I’d appreciate the seats the most. The third ticket was for whichever one of his bozo sons could beat the other out. I had no doubt it would be Cory, because he always challenged me.”

“That’s amazing. You’re close with your dad?”

“Some might say I’m Daddy’s spoiled-rotten little girl, followed closely by my big brother. They always tell me how I have them wrapped around my pinky.” She casually shrugs. “I don’t do anything differently, just talk ball like the rest of them.”

“Yeah, I can see how they would become attached.” The compliment slips past my lips before I can stop it. Clearing my throat, I gesture to the tacos. “Want another?”

“Sure, thank you.” With no shame, she picks up another taco and starts taking big bites. A girl who eats without a care in the world. I fucking like that. “It’s cool that you have no qualms about eating food in front of guys.”

She pauses mid bite and her cheeks flush ever so slightly before she says, “I guess it’s never crossed my mind. I’ve been eating in front of guys my whole life, whether it was my brothers, their friends, or my friends.”