The Lineup(49)

I take the key right back. “It’s okay, my parents are at my place anyway, so I’ll just stay here and finish up the job.” I give him a weak smile.

He nods and takes a step back. “Okay, well, guess I’ll see you around.” He waves and backs up to his apartment.

The word “wait” is on the tip of my tongue, urging me to shout it out, to stop him, to ask him to dinner, but I stay quiet as he ducks into his apartment and shuts the door.

He apologized to me? After everything I did last night, breaking his dish, ruining his dinner, not helping clean up, ditching when I should have stayed, he was the one who apologized?

There’s something extremely different about that man, and even though my mind is hearing warning bells, my heart is exploding with ideas on how to slowly—and I mean slowly—get Jason Orson to date me. Because the alternative—staying friends—isn’t right. All I can hope is the interest he seemed to display initially was real, and not him pretending. I’m terrified, but it might be time for me to be brave and open up my heart to someone. If I’m not too late. Because a man like Jason Orson doesn’t stay single for long.





Chapter Fourteen





JASON





“Thanks so much for meeting with me,” I say to Walker Rockwell, the catcher for the Bobbies.

I felt intimidated reaching out to him, because Rockwell isn’t known as a touchy-feely guy. cue montage clips of him beating the ever-living shit out of water coolers with his bat He has been known to have an attitude, to be tossed out of games for mouthing off to umpires about strike zone consistency, and he’s the first one off the bench when a fight breaks out. Basically, he’s the devil to my angel.

But despite the rage he seems to have on simmer at all hours of the day, I knew he would be a great ally to have when it comes to my charity because through careful research, I discovered he had a sister with special needs. I don’t truly know what happened when she passed, but I do know he hasn’t been the same since.

Walker takes my hand and gives it a firm shake. “Sure.”

We both situate ourselves at the table and put in a quick order for some drinks and apps—I’m going to have to control myself around the pretzel bites, though, as I don’t want Walker thinking I’m a glutton.

He looks around the restaurant and then asks, “How you liking Chicago?”

“I grew up here, so being back home is amazing.”

“Oh yeah, I think I saw that somewhere.” His jaw works to the side. “Have you seen what they’re already saying about us?”

Another reason why I decided to call up Walker, because the media has been having a field day with the both of us. There’s no doubt the rivalry between the Bobbies and the Rebels is thick in the city, potent, so heavy in the air that you have to use a machete to walk around during baseball season.

You’re either a diehard Bobbie for life or you’re a Rebel at heart. There’s no bouncing between the two, there’s no rooting for both. It’s either or, which the media loves sensationalizing, increasing the rivalry between fans with propaganda-filled articles that show feuds, and include the differences between the hell-bent Rebels and the hometown heroes, the Bobbies.

I laugh. “Yeah, they’re ridiculous, saying we’re playing for the wrong teams.”

He looks off to the side. “Yeah, we might be.”

There’s no doubt Walker has had his ups and downs with the Bobbies. He’s been with them from the beginning, but trade rumors have been circulating, and they always seem to circle around Walker. I can’t imagine what it feels like to never feel safe with your job, to continually wonder if this year is the year you’re traded. He has one year left on his contract and then he’s a free agent. From what I’ve heard from Knox and Carson, he wants to retire as a Bobbie, but the front office isn’t too sure.

Knowing the type of personality Walker has—closed off and not very talkative—I take the lead. “I know we play for different teams, but I figured I’d call you because I thought it would be a good idea to bring the city together for a good cause.”

“The Lineup, right?” he asks, shifting in his seat and finally making eye contact.

“Yes. My brother has cerebral palsy. He’s the reason I started it. In high school, because my coach was awesome, he was included in our games. But there are a lot of kids out there who don’t have the resources, the transportation, or the equipment, and this charity’s goal is to help those individuals. To help educate coaches, to sponsor teams who include a diverse group of kids on the teams.”

“You played with your brother?”

I nod. “In high school. He was a part of the team, pinch runner. He used his walker, and I swear, watching him score runs is still one of the best experiences of my life. Now he’s an assistant coach at our high school.”

“Wow.” He pushes his hand through his hair. “Your coach is a good man.”

“He is. I spoke with Coach Whittaker, and he’s going to be a spokesperson for the charity, along with Joseph, my brother. We’re doing a video montage of them to help encourage other coaches and athletes to be inclusive. That’s where I was hoping you would come in. I know you had a sister with special needs.”