The Dugout(50)

How on earth am I supposed to hide my feelings now when he does something so incredibly sweet, when he offers up the opportunity of a lifetime to a little guy like Dennis who wants to be just like Carson?

My heart is ramming in my chest, trying to break free, as a warm glow of complete joy passes through my veins. I can’t believe him.

Actually, I can.

“Carson, that’s . . .” I press my lips together, trying to hold back my true emotions. “This is so thoughtful.” Quietly, I add, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Mills.” He steps forward and before I can decipher what he’s doing, he wraps both his arms around my back and snags me into a deep embrace. Caught off guard, I stand there ramrod straight until he laughs and whispers, “You can hug me back, you know.”

God, do I want to hug him.

So bad.

I think about it all the time, what it would be like to have his arms around me again, so I take advantage of the opportunity. Arms trembling, I circle his narrow waist and hug him back.

Sighing above me, he tightens the hug, squeezing me harder than before while one of his hands travels to the nape of my neck and cradles my head.

It’s a tiny movement, one I’m sure not everyone would notice, but to me it feels like the most comforting move I’ve ever experienced.

“Does this mean you’re going to come to my games this weekend?”

“I never miss them,” I say, reluctantly pulling away.

His mouth curves into an endearing smile before he starts to move away, but not before tipping my chin up with his index finger once again. “Good, because I want you there.”

With a quick wink, he takes off, jogging back to the training facilities, his large gait eating up the asphalt in no time at all.

Carson really is a decent guy. I’m learning it’s typical of him to do something so giving, not understanding the effect it has on my desperate heart. I guess it’s lucky he’s cancelling practice times with me. At least that way, I don’t have to work out how to act unaffected around him.

A small mercy.

The irony.





“Wow, would you look at that, it’s our dear friend, Milly,” Jerry says, making a commotion as he takes a seat next to me on the quad’s lawn where I’m studying and trying to catch some much-needed vitamin D.

“I thought she was quarantined with some deathly disease,” Shane adds, flopping his body next to mine. He flicks at my notebook, trying to get my attention, but I keep my eyes focused forward.

These two.

I can’t really blame their sarcasm. I can’t remember the last time I actually saw them in person other than for practice with our team. And even at that, I haven’t hung around after, telling them I had to study.

“Oh no, Shane, she doesn’t even remember who we are. Look at her trying to ignore the strangers.”

Shane puts his hand on my leg and shakes it. “Milly, Milly, remember us? We’re the guys who peeled you off Sigma Alpha’s bathroom floor after you had your very first atomic juice drink. We wiped the drool off your mouth.”

I snap my notebook shut, startling both of them into laughter. “What did I tell you about that story?”

“To tell it as many times as we can?” Shane asks.

“No, to never mention it again. It was an off night for me.”

“It was an off night for all of us. We found Jerry making out with his hand in a closet, remember?”

Chuckling, I lean back on my palms and say, “How could I forget?”

“Best make-out partner I’ve ever had,” Jerry says with a wink and then plucks at the leggings I’m wearing. “Where did these come from?”

“Cory’s assistant sent them. Figured I’d try them. Turns out, they’re really comfortable. I mentioned it to Cory, to tell Cheryl thank you for me and then two days later, ten more pairs in all different colors showed up.”

“Man, I wish my brother was a major league baseball player who sent me ten pairs of stretchy leggings,” Shane says wistfully as he closes his eyes, adding a goofy grin.

“He spoils me.”

“The leggings look good,” Jerry says. “A much-needed change from the giant sweatpants.”

“Cory told me I wasn’t allowed to wear those in public anymore.”

“Cory is a good man.” Shane opens his backpack and tosses us all a fun-sized package of caramel M&M’s. “Daddy brought the goods. Now tell us what’s been going on in your life. We haven’t talked to you in a long time, Mills. You’re either studying, doing your RA duties, or in the batting cages. And since the baseball team has had two weekends in a row with away games, we’re feeling lonely.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Things have just gotten crazy.”

“And is it just me, or”—Shane sits up and stares at me—“you look different. Doesn’t she look different, Jerry?”

He sits up as well and gives me a full assessment. “She does look different. The leggings are new . . . is it the tank top? I’ve seen you in a tank top before.”

“Not the tank top, but”—Shane taps his chin—“is your hair a different color?”

“No.” I laugh, patting down my long brown hair that I have braided to the side this morning. “It might have some natural highlights from the sun, but that’s it.”