Spring Training had started, and with my shoulder giving me more and more problems, it proved to be the hardest pre-season yet. But with the addition of a new player on the roster, Gage Nix, my injured arm went seemingly unnoticed by the coaches. There were a few times I’d been questioned, but those were on particularly bad days, which I was able to pass off as such, blaming sleep or overdoing it during the previous practice.

Gage came on like an earthquake—unexpected and bringing along plenty of damage. The San Antonio Riggers had traded him, and had I been consulted in this deal, I would’ve told them they were getting the short end of that stick. He wasn’t a bad guy from what I could tell, but when a club practically giftwraps a player with shiny paper, it’s because they want to deflect from what’s inside the package. And as it turned out, that’s exactly what had happened.

But of course, I hadn’t been consulted.

And we ended up with a teammate who thought women should’ve been served to him on an all-you-can-eat buffet. It wasn’t that he was a crap player. In fact, he had impressive stats and proved to be an asset to our batting lineup—the team joked that we had to bring in someone to make up for my incredible record for striking out. They’d often made mention of my induction into the Hall of Fame for worst batting average. In all honesty, it wasn’t like I had much of a defense. Douglas Kirk, the pitcher for the Greenville Gators, had better batting stats than I did—and he was part of the American League, which meant he had a designated hitter…in other words, the dude never had to hold a bat.

But enough about my ineptitude…Gage’s liability came from his time off the field. After being on the team for a week, he’d already found himself in the middle of a scandal. Some woman he’d spent the night with claimed he’d played her. From the reports being printed in every local magazine and paper, he’d fed her lies to get her into bed, and then dismissed her as soon as he got what he wanted. It wasn’t big news, nothing that should’ve rocked the team, other than the woman was the wife of Andrew Clemmens—the shortstop for another team. In the end, it made our games against them more interesting.

At first, it had pissed me off. I wasn’t the type of person who got caught up in the rumors. I was here to throw balls and pray I could hit at least one per season. The who-did-what game had never interested me in the slightest, so when Gage had brought so much of it with him, it made me dislike a teammate for the first time in my young career.

It felt like high school all over again. And considering I hadn’t even attended my own graduation, it was evident how little I tolerated it. However, in an ironic turn of events, I came to appreciate the womanizer and his promiscuous ways.

“You’re dropping your arm too early,” Steve, my pitching coach, scolded me for the millionth time today. “Keep it up, Kyler, and instead of the entire team being blasted in the tabloids, you’ll have your very own unsavory headline.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked with disdain dripping from my tone.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” When I shook my head, Steve let out a hardy, humorless laugh. “I figured someone would’ve said something to you by now. It seems our boy has done it again. But this time, he’s managed to throw half the team under the bus.”

“How so?” He had my undivided attention. The prospect of having my name dragged through the mud, or the names of the few people I cared about, set me on edge. I’d prided myself on continuing to live a private life, out of the heated spotlight of sports fame, so the idea of the entire country having personal information about me that had yet to be made public sickened me, making me so angry I could’ve lashed out at our newest teammate.

“It’s all a bunch of bullshit if you ask me.” Steve strapped a pack of ice on my shoulder while continuing to elaborate on this newest curve ball our club had been hit with. “It’s in one of those trashy tabloid magazines, so there’s only a hint of truth to any of it, but it’s enough to prove he’s talked to someone about the players.”

It was an unspoken rule amongst every team that we were a band of brothers. Locker-room talk was left behind when we exited the building, and nothing that happened on the road, the field, the bus, or in hotels was to be used as pillow talk. Obviously, some of the players had wives, and without admitting to it, we all pretty much understood that those relationships were unofficially exempt from the rule. There wasn’t anything I didn’t share with Ellie, but I also knew she’d never repeat any of it. So I never had to worry about going against the team in that regard.

“What all was said, Steve?” I pressed, needing him to tell me before I ran out and purchased my own copy to get the answers. “How bad is it? What are we looking at here?”

Steve nonchalantly waved me off, but I could tell he was bothered by this as much as I was. As much as we all should’ve been. “Stupid shit about Mark proposing to a drag queen after a night at Cheeseburger Sally’s. It was played up like more happened than did. It was either stated or implied that he’d gone home with the fella.”

My stomach knotted, recalling the night the entire team decided to go out for a bite to eat and a few drinks after a particularly long stretch of games against a team that should’ve given us three easy wins. But that wasn’t the case. We ended up taking them, but it hadn’t come undeserved. The Denver Diamondbacks had put up one hell of a fight and made us earn that celebratory dinner at the infamous Cheeseburger Sally’s. Yes, Mark had dropped to one knee and asked Madonna to marry him, offering her a ring made from a paper straw wrapper. We’d all joked for months about how Mark had raised the bar on wedding propositions, and any girlfriend of ours wouldn’t settle for anything less. But once we’d managed to pull him off the stage, we all headed back to the hotel. Mark hadn’t gone home with anyone other than us—and I would’ve been aware, considering he was my bunkmate.

It also wasn’t hard to recall that night because I’d just laughed about it a month earlier with Charlene during our last date, the same night she’d left me with the promise of giving us a chance after I’d nearly ruined the prospect of any relationship together.

“What else?”

Again, Steve spoke with no enthusiasm, as if having our team’s secrets shared publicly was no big deal. “Apparently, Henry tested positive for enhancement drugs, but the club paid the lab to reprint the official report that had been sent to the league. If any of these allegations cause issues with the team, it’ll be that one. I wouldn’t be surprised if Leo’s in his office right now, fielding questions from the League.”

“Are you kidding me?” Of course he wasn’t. I’d done nothing but waste my breath by even asking. “We all knew that test was going to come back negative. I don’t think there was a single member of the entire Major League who thought otherwise.”

And they hadn’t. It was comical that Henry even needed to be tested, considering he was the second most straight-laced player on the roster—obviously, I’d reigned over the number-one position for that title. And the only reason why he’d been tested was that some “anonymous” source had called in suspicions to the commissioner. Leo, the owner of the Titans, ended up ordering the assessment—after Henry volunteered to take it—just to end the ridiculous chatter between the teams. And just like we’d all predicted, it came back clean.

“We all know that, but I’m sure they still have to follow up on it, regardless.” Once we made it back beneath the shade of the dugout, Steve lifted his mirrored sunglasses to the top of his head and took a seat. He showed signs of his aging with the drawn-out exhale that rushed past his lips when his back hit the wall. It almost seemed as though he regretted bringing it up to begin with. “Like I said, Kyler, it’s all bullshit. I’m sure no one’s paying any attention to what was written in that fabricated article, and those who are will forget about it in a week when Nix goes and does the next stupid thing with the next foolish woman who believes his lies long enough to give up the goods.”

“Who else was mentioned?” I needed to know if my name had been dropped, and if so, what had been said.

“Cason had a few lines toward the end, but it was nothing worth remembering.”

“And me? Was I in there?”

He stared at me so long I thought he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open. “You’re a good kid, Kyler. One of the best pitchers I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. You take direction better than a blind man, and the pride you have in this sport, in this team, and in yourself shines every night you step onto that mound.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Actually, it did. His deflection told me I had been mentioned; now I only needed to find out what had been written. And I wouldn’t give up until I did, even if that meant I had to read the damn article myself.

“Nothing most people aren’t already aware of. When you were named as the first selection of the draft, then again when news broke of you taking a seat on the team’s roster, it’s no secret the sports community made a big deal over the Cinderella story about the high school graduate who couldn’t hit a ball if it were on a tee.”

That was the truth. Suddenly, everyone in the country who even remotely followed baseball knew my name. My picture was on every ESPN channel, the cover of countless sports magazines, as well as a few shout-outs from nightly news stations. With the physicals I had to undergo just to enter the draft, my vision wasn’t a secret. But there was more to the article than that. Steve wouldn’t have continued to deflect if that’s all that had been printed about me.

“Cut the shit, Steve. Either you tell me, or I’ll go ask one of the guys. Or hell, it’s not like I can’t find a copy of this piece of shit and find out for myself. One way or another, I’ll end up hearing or reading about it. And I’d rather it come from you.”

His shoulders slumped, and he ran his hands over his thighs as if drying his sweaty palms on his pants. “Fine. It mentioned your girl.”

I saw red. “Ellie? What the hell did it say about her?”

“You don’t want to know, Kyler. Just leave it alone.”

“Like hell I’m going to leave it alone!” As my hands fisted at my sides, a sharp pain attacked my left shoulder, the same agonizing burn I’d grown used to. The cold pack didn’t do anything to ease the ache, and in an instant, an icy sensation trailed along the back of my arm, down to my left hand, leaving my fingers tingly and numb. But I pushed past it, focusing on Steve and the answers he was about to provide.

“Before I say anything more, you need to understand it was a minor mention. In fact, your name was never used, but considering I know you and your family, I was able to figure out who it referred to.”

“Just tell me.” It came out like a plea through clenched teeth, but in reality, it was nothing more than the pain I desperately tried to ignore making its way into my words.

“It talked about how one of the players was unknowingly in a sexual relationship with his half sibling. They said their source refused to give the name of the player, but went on to talk about how his father had impregnated two women around the same time, and after his mother had passed away when he was young, the other woman had stepped in to raise him, and therefore, he and his half-sister grew up together, never aware they were related.”

“You think they’re talking about Ellie and me? That my dad had cheated on my mom?” My stomach rolled. Even though it wasn’t true, and it couldn’t have possibly held any validity, it still made me sick, acidic bile scorching the back of my throat. “There’s no way.”

“I don’t pretend to know what your father did or didn’t do twenty-one years ago, but you’re a good kid with your head on your shoulders, and you had to have gotten that from somewhere. I have also seen your little friend, and anyone with halfway decent eyesight can tell there’s no relation between the two of you.”

I’d never thought about it before, but he was right. Where I was tall, she was short. I wouldn’t have been considered lanky with the level of training and workouts I’d been subjected to over the years, but finding an ounce of fat on my body would’ve been harder than locating a needle in a hayfield. Whereas, Ellie’s body was made of curves that started at her chest and worked their way down her thighs. My brown eyes were the complete opposite of her blues, in both the color and shape. And where I had dark hair, hers was a natural mixture of light brown and red with enough hint of blond to give her locks more of a strawberry hue.

There wasn’t a single cell in her body that resembled mine.

“Any idea who took this shit to the tabloid?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He couldn’t have been more wrong about that. “Had to have been one of Nix’s conquests. One of these days, he’ll learn to keep his mouth shut and his pants zipped.” Steve checked his watch and shook his head. “There’s a mandatory locker room meeting in five. You should probably go ahead and get over there. If you’re late, just blame me. Tell them I had you doing drills to fix the drop in your shoulder.”

I couldn’t do anything other than nod. I already felt like shit, no need to make it worse by witnessing the disappointment on his face. With the amount of one-on-one time I had with him, he’d become like a second father—or third if I counted Mr. Teller. Steve reminded me so much of my old man with his relentless determination to correct my pitch, wanting me to develop a more “traditional” throw, even though my unique hold on the ball was what gave me the speed that kept batters striking out. But now, hearing him tell me what a good kid I was, how I had my head on straight, I could’ve closed my eyes and convinced myself it was my dad standing in front of me.

Normally, I had a strong sense of urgency. When I was told to be somewhere by a certain time, I made it there early. When we were down by one in the bottom of the eighth, I threw solid strikeouts. I knew what was needed, and I made sure it was delivered. But not this time. Steve had told me the meeting started in five minutes, and even though that typically would’ve given me plenty of time to make it to the locker room, I managed to stroll in late. All eyes were on me as I made my way in, taking my place in the back along the wall while Coach talked calmly in the front. He may have spoken with even control, but his red cheeks didn’t lie.

“You all can believe what you want, but nothing in that article came from my mouth,” Gage defended, turning to meet the stare of everyone in the room. “I’ve done some stupid shit in the past—I’ll be the first one to admit that—but this time, it wasn’t me. I just came on the team; how could I possibly know these things about any of you?”

The room remained silent, as if no one wanted to be the first to speak. In all honesty, it wouldn’t have been too difficult for Gage to have any or all that information. We all started out the pre-season practices with team-building exercises. Aside from that, there’s always the friendly fire that takes place off the field where we share in lighthearted jests about things other players have done. It’s always been an easy way to welcome a new player without alienating anyone, swapping memories to tighten the team dynamic. We were a band of brothers, so when we adopted a new one, we all made sure he had a place in our family. They all did the same thing almost three years ago when I was the newbie.

But Gage wasn’t lying when he denied having any part in this newest tremor to the club. Maybe no one else believed it, but I did. And the reason I knew he wasn’t behind it was that the sprinkles of truth behind the stories given in that article came from me, during a date with someone I’d thought I could trust…

This wasn’t the first lesson I’d learned about trusting people, and it more than likely wouldn’t be the last, but it certainly was enough to open my eyes to the viciousness of the dating world. It would end up being the defining moment of my apprehension toward relationships of any kind for the next couple of years—aside from the team, my family, and Ellie.

After Charlene had left my house that night, we’d tried to continue what we had started, but it didn’t seem to work out. Spring Training had begun, which meant a heavy game schedule with doubleheaders that would leave me exhausted on my feet. On top of that, she had classes and work. So, aside from the occasional phone call that wouldn’t last long before I’d pass out, we never saw each other again. And after several weeks, the calls had stopped, as well. I hadn’t thought much of it, but now that this shame article had been printed, I could only assume she’d been angry at me. And the mention of my relationship with Ellie gave me insight as to why—she clearly believed there was more going on between the two of us than there was.

“If it helps the team to have someone to blame, then I’ll gladly fall on that sword. I guess it’s my responsibility to do so as the new kid on the block. But I stand here, in front of every single one of you, and swear I wasn’t behind this. I guess all I can hope for is the chance to prove myself. I came in here with more baggage than anyone anticipated, a chip the size of Texas on my shoulder, and I’ve given you no reason to believe me.”

The entire locker room was so quiet a pin dropping to the floor of the owner’s box upstairs could’ve been heard here. This was the first time Gage had openly admitted to anything, which was ironic because it was done at the same time he denied the allegations. I was clear right then that there was more to Gage Nix than any of us realized. And I found myself wanting to dig deeper until I shared the same bond with him that I did with every other member of this team.

“It was me,” I blurted out, surprising myself. Although, it seemed I’d also shocked the rest of the guys more. “I have no excuses. No amount of apologies will make up for dragging your names through the mud, but that won’t stop me from telling every single one of you how deeply sorry I am for any pain or trouble this has caused.”

“Kyler,” Coach called from the head of the room.

But I ignored him, needing to expel the guilt before it suffocated me. “You all are aware by now how incredibly unpopular I was my entire life. For eighteen years, I basically had one friend. Then I came here and became part of this family, a family bigger than anything I could’ve ever dreamed up on my own.”

“Coby,” he tried again—this time, using my first name, ensuring he got my attention.

“No, Coach. Please let me finish. I have to get this out, and then you can say whatever you need to.” I paused and stared at him with what I was sure were pleading eyes. When he nodded, I continued. “Trust has never been something I’ve doubted. I trusted my dad, my best friend, her parents, but other than that, I’d never been in a situation where my faith in someone could’ve come back to haunt me. I came here and immediately put my trust in all of you, and not once has anyone in this room let me down. Yet I’ve unintentionally let a lot of you down in the process of trying to navigate the dating world. I’d gone out to dinner with a girl who I met through my best friend—I guess you could say that gave me a false sense of security. Without thinking of the consequences that could follow, I opened up to her and told her what I thought were irrelevant, funny stories about my family…you guys.

“I have blind, unwavering faith in Ellie—who you all know by now—so in my mind, that level of trust was transferred from my best friend to the woman she’d set me up with. That was my mistake. It’s something I can promise I’ve learned from in the last thirty minutes. It’s no consolation, but I assumed the things I told her wouldn’t cause a problem since they were innocent tales of brotherhood. None of it seemed to be anything worthy of repeating, especially to a reporter. I figured they wouldn’t care about Mark proposing to Madonna or the drug test Henry had to take, even though no one believed he’d never so much as touched a narcotic of any kind, much less performance enhancements. All I can say to you guys is this was as much of a lesson for me as I’m sure it has been for us all. I’ve learned that anything can be spun negatively, and the backlash from this is something I’ll spend the rest of my time on this team trying to make up for.”

Slow claps began to echo in the tiled room until every player was on his feet, applauding me for fucking up. It literally couldn’t get any more ironic. But the praise only lasted seconds before Coach called us to order and had everyone back in their seats or settled into their places against the wall.

“Do I need to install a tampon machine in here for you ladies?” The twinkle in his steely eyes gave him away, even though his lips remained taut in a show of business. “Congrats, Kyler, you’re officially a man. Pretty soon, that peach fuzz will resemble real facial hair. Just be careful, because now that you’ve reached puberty, you can get a girl pregnant, and I’m not about to raise another baby.”

The room broke out in hysterical laughter.

“Now that we’ve gotten that straightened out, we can move forward. Let’s keep our heads down and our noses clean. I run a tight ship, and I expect you all to behave professionally on and off the field. And from now on,” he added, pausing to throw a hint of a smirk my way, “someone needs to chaperone Kyler’s dates.”

I could only pray Ellie would take the news as well as the team had, but once I got home and relayed it all over dinner, she about lost her marbles. I had to physically restrain her from going after Charlene. The news of her friend’s betrayal had Ellie upset from the moment I started the story, but as soon as I begrudgingly informed her of the lies written about the two of us, I thought I’d have to visit her in jail and sit behind her during her murder trial. I’d hoped the fact that our names were never given would’ve calmed her down, but no such luck.

I’d seen Ellie in every colorful mood from black to white and back again. But the shade of red she wore after hearing it all was something I never cared to witness again. Although, I’d finally found a reason to laugh. After the day I’d had, I didn’t think I’d be able to smile for a while, let alone collapse onto the couch in a fit of hysterics, especially so soon after it happened. Enraged Ellie reminded me very much of the girl on The Exorcist. I kept waiting for her head to start spinning around while she spoke incoherently.

She didn’t find it as funny as I did, but at least my uncontrollable laughter brought her back to a more sane level of mad. As long as I didn’t have to worry about her strangling Charlene in the middle of class, I was okay. She swore she wouldn’t, but she refused to promise me she wouldn’t say something to her.

If she ever did, I never found out about it.

* * *

By the end of the season, I could no longer hide the issues with my arm. Over the months, it’d gotten progressively worse, which in turn, affected my game. I’d been a fool to think it could continue to go unnoticed, when in reality, an ace pitcher with an earned run average of slightly over three wouldn’t tank his stats in one season without some major influence. The thought of it being drugs was out of the question, and with Steve pointing out my drop in speed and lessening range of motion, it only left the possibility of an injury.

Although, I could honestly say I hadn’t sustained an injury. I’d continued to argue that it was nothing more than a pulled muscle and overworking it, but that could only go on for so long. I’d seen the team doctor, who echoed my assumption, but when they had to bench me in the last game of the season, they decided to get another opinion.

I knew it was worse than anyone suspected—not because I had the faintest idea what was wrong, but because I’d been silently living with the pain for over a year. There were days I could barely hold the ball, let alone wind up and throw it. Those were the scariest—definitely not something a professional pitcher cared to experience. But again, I’d kept my mouth shut, telling myself I needed to get through the season before informing my coaches. I wanted to believe it would only take a few months of taking it easy to heal the pulled muscle. Maybe a little physical therapy during the off-season would do it good. But the warning bells in my head that deafened me during every game had told me otherwise.

So when I finally admitted to my coaches about the burning pain that started in my shoulder and settled between my muscles along the back of my arm, as well as the icy tingles that ran into my hand, they were angry I hadn’t spoken up sooner. Their first concern was a rotator cuff injury. But after seeing a specialist and receiving a clean bill of health, nothing wrong with my shoulder, they agreed to physical therapy and a light load until the start of the next season, when they’d re-evaluate me.

“Hey, man,” Gage’s deep voice filled my ear through the phone. “I’m leaving tomorrow evening to head home for the holidays and figured it’s a good time to toss back a few. You busy?”

“How many of the guys did you call before me?” I muted the TV in my room, trying not to give away just how pathetic my life had been in the few short weeks since our last game. The entire team knew something was up with my million-dollar arm, but the coaches passed it off— exactly what I’d done for as long as I could—as being overworked.

Aside from physical therapy appointments, I’d barely left my house in the last three weeks. Thanksgiving approached, and although I’d planned to head back to DeArmanville with Ellie, I decided to stay home this year. My dad had known about the issues with my arm since the coaches found out, so I used physical therapy as an excuse for not being there for the holiday. It took a little more convincing on my behalf for Ellie to stop pushing the issue, but eventually, she conceded and agreed to spend time with me when she returned.

For two people who lived in the same house together, we hardly saw each other. She had school when I was home during the off-season, and when she was home for the summer, I was on the field. We were still just as close as always, but we’d begun to rely heavier on the use of our phones to remain in touch. It didn’t bother me too much because she was still there if I needed her. The only times I felt somewhat affected by her absence was when she was spending the night with Justin Bieber—which she only did when I was away, and I only knew then because our conversations would be short and rushed. As far as I was aware, he’d never stayed at our house, but I’d never found the balls to ask her, either.

Gage laughed, and it startled me out of my thoughts, bringing me back to my pathetic present. “No one. You were my first call. But please don’t make me call anyone else. You’re the only one I trust to keep me out of trouble.”

After his rocky start on the team, we’d grown pretty close. I guess standing up and taking the heat off his back after the tabloid incident made him appreciate me. It also was the beginning of him cleaning up his act for the sake of the Titans.

“No need to call anyone else. I’m just sitting on my ass watching TV…alone. Where are we going, and do I need to drive?”

Of course I needed to drive. Gage was perfectly capable of hitting a bar by himself, no wingman needed, but he had some personal issues with Uber drivers and taxis, which left him bumming rides—most of the time from me.

Within an hour, I’d picked him up and we were seated in the VIP section of a popular club. Gage was incapable of doing anything low-key, which bothered me, but at the same time, it hadn’t interfered with my need to stay private. At the most, there were “sightings,” but even those weren’t anything major. After all, ballplayers weren’t Hollywood stars. We were only recognized by fans, which happened to be the only people who cared we were there. Unfortunately, we lived in a sports-driven town. Not only was Tuscaloosa the home of the Titans—a new team most didn’t pay any attention to until they signed a blind-as-a-bat pitcher straight out of some nameless high school—but there were also college teams with loyal followings.

While Gage got his fill of drinks and women, I sat in the booth with my bottle of water and watched kids my age act like fools. It made me contemplate what life would’ve been like had I been accepted by the popular crowd in high school. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d be out on that dance floor, moving sloppily to the heavy beats of music, or if I’d still be me, just with more friends.

Before I could debate it any further, a pretty blonde invited herself to sit next to me. It was a brazen move, but when I glanced that way, I could see the waves of nervousness wash over her. It was too loud to speak more than a few words, but I’d managed to get her name—Lori. And after no more than ten minutes, I was ready to head outside just to have some sort of conversation.

“Do you think he’ll find you out here?” she asked once we both were seated in my car.

“I sent him a text, but there’s no telling when he’ll read it. He’ll either come find me or find someone to leave with.” I started my car and turned on the heat to ward off the bite of the November air.

Either the nervousness I’d seen in her eyes was nothing but an act, or the heat did something to her brain and made her react without caution. She reached over the center console and lightly ran her hand down my thigh to my knee, and then back up again, only this time, she trailed her fingers along the inside, ending at my groin, which she cupped seductively.

I instantly grew hard with her touch.

“Slide your seat back,” she whispered into my ear, and I did what I was told without question. Barely waiting until I had myself pushed away from the steering wheel, she climbed over the console and into my lap. “He’s inside with my friend. I think she was taking him to the bathroom in the back. I doubt he’ll be out for a while if I know her as well as I think I do.”

I wasn’t sure if she thought this was considered dirty talk, but it didn’t do anything for me. Conversing about Gage getting it on in a filthy bathroom stall at a club with some chick he’d never met wasn’t my idea of an aphrodisiac, but I couldn’t tell her that. Not because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but because she didn’t give me the chance to. She began to grind against me, her lips so close to mine I could feel every breath she took.

And then she moaned.

If only she’d done that from the start.

I grazed her sides before finding the hem of her shirt, fitting my hands beneath it until I had my palms on her bare skin. She was so warm and soft. But as soon as I had her breasts in my grip, something changed.

Not with her.

With me.

Lori seemed to enjoy my touch, moving with more fervor while her moans grew exponentially in the otherwise quiet car. I wanted to enjoy…whatever this was…but I couldn’t seem to stop trying to figure out what was wrong. I had a hot girl on my lap, riding my half-chub like a cowgirl at a rodeo, her bare tits in the palms of my hands, yet something wasn’t right.

Needless to say, she didn’t give me the chance to figure it out before she switched it up again. She scooted back as far as she could without laying on the horn and alerting everyone of what was taking place in my car, and proceeded to unbutton my jeans. I tried to stop her, but she must not have been accustomed to the word “wait.” Either that or the loud music in the club impaired her hearing.

In a flash, she not only had my jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, but she also had the waistband shoved down enough to wrap her fingers around my dick. And still, I couldn’t get her to slow down. It wasn’t that she needed to stop completely, just take it easy long enough for me to mentally catch up.

However, I did put on the brakes when she lifted her skirt and shifted over me to climb back up my body. “Lori, you need to stop. We have to get a condom. I have one in my wallet, but it’s in my back pocket, and I can’t reach it.”

“It’s okay. I’m on the Pill.”

Her sexy moans and heavy pants of anticipation disappeared in lieu of the loud, ear-piercing screech of metaphorical brakes and burning rubber. “No. It’s not okay.” I tried to shift her off me, but with the confined space, it ended up being nothing but knees and elbows stuck between a door, a console, and a steering wheel. With all the jostling around, she more than likely didn’t understand my intention.

Holding onto the headrest behind me, she arched her back and shifted into position. The second I felt her heat graze mine, I fitted one hand between us to cup my junk, preventing her from the home run she obviously sought.

As much as I wanted that same thing, love was cleaner with a packaged wiener. I didn’t need to be caught in the middle of a baby-daddy scandal to know the risks of having a child with someone before I was ready. Shortly after the beginning of my first year on the team, a woman I’d been on a few dates with had left a condom in my car. We’d planned on heading back to her house, but something came up and I had to drop her off. Later, Ellie found it and pointed out the tiny holes through the wrapper. The girl had claimed something in her purse must’ve done it, but I wasn’t willing to figure out what.

Now, I had one hand over my deflating dick and the other frantically trying to get between us, hoping I could come up with coherent words to get my point across while also multitasking enough to keep her from following through with her intentions. But I didn’t get that far. While I attempted to grip her arm, she wrapped her fingers around my left wrist, lifted it into the air, and then leaned into my chest, pushing my arm over my head.

Blinding pain pulled a barking cry from my chest, everything else long forgotten. Immediately, Lori stopped her aggressive behavior and asked if I was okay, as if it were completely normal for a man to hold his balls in one hand, clutch his other to his chest, and moan in agony while a beautiful—if not utterly crazy—woman straddled him.

Some incoherent words were muttered, her apologies offered, and after fastening my jeans and tugging her skirt back in place, she quietly exited my car. It ended up taking another thirty minutes behind the wheel in the parking lot, collecting myself, before I had enough range of motion in my arm to drive away. But I didn’t head home. Instead, I drove on autopilot all the way to the interstate, not stopping until I pulled down the familiar dirt driveway. It didn’t matter that I had no change of clothes or even a toothbrush for the morning. I clearly needed to be here, because it was where my heart led me.

When I shut off the engine, I happened to catch a glimpse of the time—almost a quarter till two in the morning. Still, I didn’t care. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was where I belonged. This was where I was meant to be.

I trekked around the house, using the moon to light my way. When I made it to the back, standing in front of the familiar window that no longer seemed so recognizable, I held my breath and tapped on the glass. After a beat, I rapped again, this time, a little louder. Finally, she peered around the side and squinted before lifting the window.

“What are you doing here, Coby?”

I shrugged, realizing for the first time how ill-prepared I was for showing up at her childhood home in the middle of the night, hours before her entire family gathered around a table to give thanks. “I needed you.”