“Oh come on. You can tough this out,” I encourage as I press Dillinger’s leg from where his calf rests on my shoulder. He grimaces and hisses out a long low-sounding breath as I stretch the tightened tendons he overextended last week.
I hear the comments made under the breaths of some of the guys. I’d be deaf if I didn’t. I’m more than aware of what my body position with Dillinger looks like to them—like I’m trying to mount him—and yet I can’t care. This is my job. To get him feeling okay before he pitches tonight. Every win counts with the Aces one game out of first place, and the season slowly coming to an end.
“Can I be next?” I glance over to where Santiago stands and then return my attention to Dillinger as I ease the pressure off and lower his leg back down.
Moving from my position between his thighs, I look back to Santiago. “I wasn’t aware you were injured.”
“I’m not but if you’re handing out free therapy like that, count me in.” He smirks and everything about it makes my skin crawl.
“There’s a long and distinguished line in front of you, Santiago. Guys who really need me. So I suggest you get in the back of the line. If I have the time, we’ll see about working on your problems, but I’m pretty sure fixing your issues is above my pay grade.” I lift my eyebrows and just stare at him to let him know I’m not taking his shit.
Dillinger whistles low and soft as Santiago narrows his eyes and then turns and walks away.
“Not all of us are assholes,” he says garnering my attention, “but it seems a lot of them are acting like it lately.”
“It goes with the territory,” I say with a nod, trying to keep my professional, tough-girl façade in place. At the same time though, I’m relieved to know I’m not seeing things that aren’t there. The overabundance of towels accidentally being dropped when I enter the locker room. The suggestive, snide comments here and there. The offers to go out on a date despite my continued refusals. Things that never happened when Easton was here, his claim staked even though we thought we were on the down-low. “You good and stretched? Ready to strike ’em all out tonight?”
To have a game. I smile and think of Easton.
“Always.” He offers me a big grin before heading out to the main part of the locker room.
“You okay?” Drew asks the same time he knocks on the doorframe.
“Yep,” I say as I blow out a breath, but the look on his face says he’s not buying it.
“You sure?”
“Yes. Thanks. Can I help you with anything?” I ask, this little visit out of the ordinary for him.
“Easton’s looking good. Strong. Only that lucky fucker would return to a new team after such a long stint on the DL, hit three homers, and throw out every person who attempted to steal on him in his first week back. It’s like he’s superhuman or something.” He laughs with a shake of his head.
“Don’t tell him that or we’ll never get his ego to fit through the door.”
“Ain’t that the truth. You catching his games at all?”
“Of course.” I offer a sly smile. “You guys play out there, and I sit in here and watch him on my phone.”
“Traitor.” This time his laugh is loud and draws more attention from the guys.
“The same can be said for the management of this team and what they did to him.”
“Yeah. It’s still not sitting well with the guys. Everyone’s on edge. If the front office can do that to Easton—Mr. Ace himself—then they can and will do it to anyone. It doesn’t make for good team morale.”
“How could it?”
“There are rumors that Cory’s on the bubble. I guess Finn finally got hold of Boseman, and he’s pissed about what Cory did with East. That he never approved the trade. The goddamn left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing and still someone got jacked off.”
“So eloquent,” I say with a roll of my eyes, but I’m more intrigued than ever. Is Finn trying to cover his ass? By advising Easton to sign that addendum, he’s the one who’s ultimately responsible for letting the club have a decision to make in the first place. And the fact that he still represents Easton makes my stomach hurt.
But that’s not why Drew is here to talk to me. I can tell there’s more and am curious what it’s about so I make small talk until he gets to it.
“I know it’s been tough for you. The guys are being dicks, giving you constant bullshit, and strutting around naked.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” I say. “I’ll make a few quips about how small their dicks are and before you know it, the towels will stay on and it will all stop.”
“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to handle it at all. You’re being professional and they’re acting like sexist pigs.”
At least he’s accurate in his description. “Let’s hope those sexist pigs don’t ever find themselves injured because I won’t be as gentle with them as I would with you.”
But I need to get a handle on it. And soon. Or else Cory’s going to think I’m incapable of running the program.
“I like the way you think.” He stares at me and chews his bottom lip for a moment before getting to his point. “They knew you were sleeping with East so they’ve just assumed you have a thing for baseball players. I guess they’re thinking they might get a chance with you too.”
I snort at how ludicrous that is but then realize he’s not joking. “There’s no chance there. I’m still with Easton.”
“Hmm.” It’s all he says. The damn sound makes my stomach drop to my toes and allows doubt to fester when it hasn’t been there once since he left.
Sure, I miss him. Sure I hate knowing he might be out in a bar with his new teammates and a woman might be hitting on him . . . but that could happen here too. That little hum in Drew’s throat tickles at the base of my neck and tugs on insecurities lying dormant.
“Is there something you’re not telling me?” I hate that I even ask, well aware it undermines my professionalism, and yet I hang on to the silence and wait for his answer.
“Nah. He’s a good guy. It’s just I’ve never seen him like this over a woman.”
“So . . . what? You wanted to feel around and see if I’d take any of the guys up on their offer? Make sure I’m true to Easton? I appreciate your loyalty to your friend, but we’ve got things between us handled just fine.”
The ringing of my phone interrupts the conversation. I don’t mean to do anything more than to silence the ring and send it to voicemail but when I see Sally’s number on the phone, fear has me answering as quickly as possible.