After I’d left Andrea’s place on Saturday morning, I had to pack my bag for the flight out to Jacksonville with the team. Luckily, after some x-rays and a thorough examination, it was determined that my hand was fine, and the trainers weren’t worried about my overall health.

But Don sure made it clear to me how disappointed he was. Me, Dwayne, Franco, and Buckner had all been given a stern talking-to by our manager before we’d boarded the bus for the airport, and it had set the mood for our whole trip. The guys had stuck up for me, hard, almost angrier about it than I was. But it didn’t matter. I was the instigator; it was my face all over the news.

Today—Sunday—was my first official day back on the job, my suspension over and done with. We had the double-header we’d just played today, plus another game on Monday before our series with the Firebirds was over with, and we’d fly back home Tuesday morning.

As if I hadn’t been through the ringer enough, my agent, Marissa, in her expensive new pantsuit and short pixie cut, sat next to me and kept giving me a look that said to behave. It was a look I knew all too well.

Mr. Yerac had called me into his makeshift office-slash-hotel room in Jacksonville. I was tired from a long day of playing. Not to mention that I’d extended my league-leading streak of thirty-seven scoreless innings pitched. But from Mr. Yerac’s angry face, that wasn’t what we were going to discuss. The fallout from Friday night had been pretty swift. He’d flown out from Chicago to speak with me in person.

When the busy billionaire boss wanted to speak with you specifically—and flew out to do it—that was never good.

As well as I was playing on the field, it felt like shit was being flung at me from all angles these days. I had as many haters as Kanye West screaming at me. But every time shit like this happened and things got blown out of proportion, I ignored it. Andrea had been on me, a lot of other people as well, but her emails and texts had bothered me the most. I was having trouble ignoring her, in general. I mean shit, I had climbed down from the outside window using a vine like fucking Tarzan to escape the clutches of her mother, who apparently would not be cool with her daughter hooking up with a professional baseball player.

That was a first. Most girls wanted to show me off the moment they were even seen in public with me, let alone hooked up with me.

I snapped back to reality as Mr. Yerac paced back and forth in front of me while I sat in the hotel chair.

“You are goddamn lucky you have a golden arm, you know that?”

I didn’t care for his tone, but he did pay my salary. So I gave the guy a token nod of respect.

“Thank you. And sir, I know you think I’m a bad influence on the team. And that I’m giving the Jaguars a bad image. But with all due respect, our clubhouse chemistry has never been better. We’re kicking ass on the field. This might not mean a lot, but our teammates have my back more than ever, and I have theirs on and off the field. What’s more—” I paused. The way Marissa cleared her throat, she was sensing what I was about to say was something I shouldn’t. However, this seemed like one of those situations where I needed to speak my mind, and it would probably come back and bite me in the ass. I ignored my hesitation and continued saying what I was about to say, as usual. “What’s more, that fucking guy had it coming. He was harassing the girl I was with and…”

“Goddamn it, Napleton, you still don’t get it! You need to see the bigger picture! It’s not about right and wrong. It’s not about whether Grant Newman was being a dick or not. It’s about the fact that you need to control yourself, no matter what. On and off the field. That’s what we agreed upon in your contract. My trade for you included you cleaning up your act. Your last team didn’t put up with it, and neither will I.”

Mr. Yerac believed all the bullshit about me, and that was on me, but I wasn’t going sit there and take it when he was being stubborn and refused to hear me out. This was why I had never bothered to explain myself. People had already decided. I stood up, so angry I could barely think straight.

“I have to control myself?” I said, my voice low and not hiding my anger. “What about Newman and his behavior? I’m telling you the truth—he was the one that wouldn’t walk away. You trust the dumb media over your own player?”

Mr. Yerac shook his head. “You’re constantly bringing negative attention to the team. It’s not a coincidence that a fog of trouble seems to follow you.” He took a deep breath, as if choosing his next words very carefully. “And if you don’t change this pattern, you’re fucking gone.”

I stood toe to toe with the man for a moment. Mr. Yerac was young for an owner, was several inches shorter than me, and wore glasses. As much as I wanted to hate him, I couldn’t. I knew his story. Like me, he was self-made. He was conservative on the outside, and a hard-working maniac once you got to know him. For some reason, though, I couldn’t get through to him, couldn’t explain that the scuffle wasn’t without reason. In this clubhouse, I commanded the respect of every single one of the other twenty-four guys because they knew, if it came to it, I wouldn’t be afraid to take a punch for them. Or throw a punch.

“I’m not changing a fucking thing about how I operate,” I said coolly, not backing down.

I stared into his icy blue eyes and offered a smile. He eyed me back, said nothing, and then I walked out of the room.

I left him speechless. I suppose billionaires aren’t used to people telling it like it is.

Marissa was right by my side as I walked down the hallway. She pursed her lips and shook her head at me. “You couldn’t budge, just a little?”

“Maybe I’m being a dick, and I could have handled that differently,” I said, still pissed. “But I’d rather be true to myself than sit there and lie to another man. The truth is that if that situation came up again tonight, with that fucker, Newman, laying a hand on Andrea? I’d knock his ass right out again.”

Marissa sighed. “Goddamn it, Jake Napleton. Why do you make it so hard for me to hate you?”

I had showered and the massage therapist had left my hotel room, leaving me feeling light and loose after the day’s performance. I lay down on top of my covers, still in my towel, and thought about flipping on the TV.

Then I decided against it. I thought back to after the game. The team usually signed autographs before we boarded our bus to our hotel. I’d signed my share, but most parents had steered their impressionable kids away from me. I thought, Would Tate’s aunt have done that? None of the other parents at practice or games had acted any differently towards me afterwards, treating me like normal.

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand the subtleties and nuances of right and wrong. I just hadn’t listened. I’d admitted to Andrea that I needed to fix things, but I’d only dug a deeper hole with Mr. Yerac. I knew his threat wasn’t hollow, and I didn’t take it lightly, but how could I fight against a man who had already decided I was the bad guy? For the first time ever, I didn’t much care for the image of me that was out there.

I texted Eva to see how she was doing. I actually missed getting calls from my workaholic sister, even if all she told me was to stop being a dumbass. Since I hadn’t heard back from her for a few weeks, it meant she was likely undercover or on a case, too busy doing important work to deal with her asshole little brother stirring shit up. Growing up, she’d wanted to make the world a better place and fight the bad guys. She was a hero, my hero. She put her life on the line every day. She put meaning into everything she did. It was a stark contrast to my own life.

My phone beeped a few times, jarring me out of my thoughts. I got another text from my teammates about going out, but I was so not in the mood. After my confrontation with Mr. Yerac and parting ways with a somber Marissa, I’d headed to my room and stayed put, ignoring the media.

Speaking of my social media woes, I thought as I went through my contact list and saw Andrea’s number. Damn. Just seeing her name buoyed me. It made all the shit that had happened after the game less frustrating.

I wondered if I’d ever have the pleasure of hooking up with the hottest girl I’d ever met again. Andrea was so damn hot, I’d relished going down on her, making her moan and scream and squirm. But I wanted a lot more. Since college, I hadn’t worked this hard to get a girl, and with good reason. Andrea was different, and interesting. A challenge, for sure, but special. Spending the night with her curled up in my arms had felt natural. Like we did that all the time. And I’d liked it. I didn’t do that a lot, even when I did have a steady girlfriend, which wasn’t often.

Tonight, I realized I was feeling something I hadn’t about any woman since I’d first moved away to college: I missed Andrea.

My cock hardened just thinking about how she had tasted and how her feet felt up on my back.

I pulled out my phone and shot her a text.

Me: Hey.

Andrea: Hey…

Me: 2 more days.

Andrea: 2 more days until what?

Me: Until we do that again.

Andrea: And after you narrowly escaped my mother’s visit? Yes that was so fun.

Me: What can I say? I’m a magician. I make amazing things happen.

Andrea: Yes you do.

Me: I’m not talking about your mother’s visit, I’m talking about my mouth on you.

Andrea: I figured that was going to be more fun than a mom visit…

Me: I wish you were here right now. I’d show you exactly what I’m talking about.

Andrea: You realize my mom would have had a heart attack if she saw you, right?

Me: Don’t change the subject. We’re talking about me going down on you.

Andrea: Are you mad because I didn’t reciprocate?

Me: Mad? It was an honor to lick your beautiful pussy.

Andrea: Oh God. You ar…

She didn’t finish that sentence, and after a full minute, I realized why.

Me: You’re texting one handed, aren’t you?!

I waited for a few moments, waiting for those three little dots to run across the screen.

Me: …you’re wet.

Andrea: Yes.

Me: Play with your pussy for me.

Andrea: I have been, thinking about how you made me feel…

Me: And now you’ve got me hard.

Andrea: Jake, please…

Me: You think this is wrong?

Andrea: You’re a client.

Me: You’re right.

Andrea: I have to go, night.

Fuck. Andrea certainly was developing a talent for giving me blue balls. Little did she know, The Big Unit didn’t give up that easy.