The Locker Room(74)

“Not interested,” I say, while slipping my jacket on.

“What?” Brock calls out. “I thought you and Ealson are serious.”

“We are,” I answer as the entire team listens in. “But I don’t need some stupid legend to confirm what I already know: she’s the girl for me.”

I pocket my loose items and give Holt and Carson knuckles before taking off. I told my mom and Emory to meet me outside the locker room so we can go to dinner. Normally I stay completely focused during the game, but for the life of me, knowing Emory was in the stands with my mom, I couldn’t refrain from glancing over in their direction on occasion during the beginning of the game. Loved finding the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen shining back at me.

I had one of my best games of my career, going three for three with two RBIs, a stolen base, and a stellar glove at shortstop. Having Emory there felt right, exactly how it’s supposed to be. Her confidence in me. Her cheers. It wasn’t a distraction but something that gave me strength.

When I push through the doors of the locker room, I quickly scan the hallway—thankfully only athletes and family members are allowed in this part of the stadium—and spot my mom in all her shiny glory, but no Emory. Huh, that’s strange.

Maybe she’s in the bathroom.

“There he is, Mr. Triple.” My mom pulls me into a hug and squeezes me tightly. “You were amazing out there today.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I pull her away and look around. “Where’s Em, is she in the bathroom?”

“Oh no, she left in the fourth inning.”

“What? Really?” How didn’t I notice? Maybe because at that point I chastised myself for looking in the stands too much and stopped, refocusing on the game. “Why?”

“She felt a migraine coming on. She told me she gets them on occasion.”

“She does.” I start to worry, remembering how bad her migraine was last time. “Was she sick? Do you know if she got home okay?”

My mom nods. “Yes, her friend Dottie came to pick her up. Lovely girl.”

“Okay.” I chew on the side of my cheek, wondering what I should do.

My mom presses her hand against my arm, pulling my attention back to her. “It’s okay if you want to go check on her, Knox.”

“But we had dinner plans,” I say as I start moving toward the parking lot.

“We can reschedule. It’s fine. I’m quite tired from all the cheering anyway. Go check on Emory.”

I lean down and kiss my mom on the forehead. “Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it and hey, thanks for sitting next to Em, it was great seeing you two in the stands together.”

“I adore her.” She holds her hands to her heart and then something flashes over her eyes, changing her expression from content to slightly concerned. “Before you go, I think you should know we talked about you entering the draft today, she seemed to have some—”

“You what?” My stomach falls to the floor.

“I mentioned this being your last year.”

“Mom,” I groan, pressing my hands to my head. “Fuck, why did you say that?”

“Well, I don’t know. I thought it was public knowledge since there are articles written up everywhere speculating about who’s going to draft you. You didn’t tell her?”

“No. I didn’t. I was, shit, Mom. I was trying to find the right time to tell her. It’s been a slow process, getting her to date me, to trust me, and I was going to tell her this week, after you left.”

She cringes. “I’m sorry, honey. I really thought she knew.”

“What did she say? Was she mad? Is that why she left in the fourth?”

She shakes her head. “No, she said she had a migraine coming. Would she lie about that?”

“I don’t know,” I say sarcastically. “Maybe, if your boyfriend’s mom tells you he’s leaving after this semester to God knows where. Jesus, Mom.”

“Oh dear. I really feel like a boob. I didn’t mean to let the cat out of the bag.”

I sigh, hating that I’m making my mom feel bad. Letting out my frustration, I pull my mom into a hug and say, “I know, and I’m sorry for getting angry, but I’ve worried that Em’s had one foot out the door, ready to bolt at any time. I told you a bit about her past relationship, but he cheated on her, and it took a while to convince her that I wasn’t him. That she deserved much, much more than that. That I’d never be anything but honest with her. And this . . .” Fuck. Em. I have no idea how she’s going to respond to this. I drag my hand through my still-damp hair. “You don’t mind if I take off, to make sure she’s okay?”

“No, I insist, please, go to her.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I give her one more parting hug and take off toward my truck where I quickly make my way to Emory’s dorm. Thanks to Dottie being friends with the resident director, she scored me a key to the dorms, so I make my way to their suite. Not wanting to barge in, just in case any of the girls are indecent, I knock on the door and stick my hands in my pockets, willing my nerves to settle.

Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to first make sure Emory is not in too much pain, and then I’m going to talk this out with her. Help her understand that this is my last semester at Brentwood, but I’m committed to her, and even if I move across the country, she’ll always be mine. I’ll always be hers.