Chapter 13

Rolling out my shoulder,I pushed the door to the locker room open with my good arm. Normally, stepping into this room felt like coming home. The navy carpet and built-in wooden lockers made the place feel warm and welcoming. The couches surrounding the huge circle logo were the perfect place to chill before games. Seeing my own space, with my name, was a comfort. Today's pinstripe uniform hung just below the shelf with my mitt. A few pairs of cleats sat on the floor at the bottom of the locker. Even the chair, the one I'd put a decal on so it was easily distinguishable—the original Revs Logo, of course, with the drum and stars.

Except—

"Looks who's finally back." Bosco slapped my good shoulder.

Ignoring him, I approached my locker, scanning the area around it in search of my chair.

"I bet you're happy to be here," he said from behind me.

"What did you do with it?"

He thought this dumbass game was funny. At first, he'd taken the chair, and I'd almost fallen trying to sit on it. Then he'd just scoot it closer to him, so he'd have two. That's when I put the decal on it, so it stood out as mine. Then it started showing up all over the locker room. Once I'd even found it in the shower.

Beside me now, he rocked back on his heels and smirked at me.

The fucker.

I scanned the room, but the chair was nowhere to be seen.

"I will find it, and then you will be sorry," I warned.

Bosco broke out in a fit of laughter.

Price, our catcher, joined in from across the room. "I bet you won't."

Despite my annoyance, I couldn't help but smile. It was good to be back. Thank fuck my head was on straight again and I'd been cleared to play.

The only dark spot in all of it was that Aurora had gone home after the doctor cleared me yesterday. The second she was gone, my apartment, which I usually loved, felt empty.

Even worse, my bed was cold. Her words—we can't do this again—put a damper on the night she'd spent with me. But I'd proved her wrong. I'd spent that night with my mouth on her, and my fingers and my cock inside her. I'd brought her to orgasm so many times I'd lost count. And even though she'd left saying it was over, her eyes said it wasn't.

"It's the best day ever. Humpty's back!" Knight cheered, pulling me out of my own head. "Want a good-luck hug?"

"A what?"

Knight stepped forward, tripping on something imaginary. He threw his arms out, but it did no good. Stumbling like a fawn who was learning to walk, he face-planted into my bad shoulder.

A shot of pain tore through me, but I fought the urge to wince or curse. The injury was still slightly bothering me and tight at times, but I was keeping that information to myself.

"A good-luck hug." Knight wrapped his arms around me and patted my back like I was a damn infant.

"Jesus," Damiano huffed. "Personal space, man."

Bosco snickered, and Knight smiled like a goofy jackass. This was the status quo around here. And it was why I loved these guys.

But how would I choose between them and Aurora if it came to that? Because she was right. We couldn't be together while we both worked for the Revs.

"You okay?" Eddie Martinez, our shortstop, cocked a worried brow my way.

"Yeah, yeah." I waved him off. "All good."

For now, all I could do was push thoughts of Aurora to the back of my mind and focus. Lock into the game and settle into being the Mason Dumpty my team and the fans expected.

That's what I did all through the pregame and warm-ups. My thoughts didn't stray to her again until a long fly popped up in the third inning, and flashes of the last time I was out here going after a ball hit me.

They were followed by fragments of memories. Of my week with her, the laughs, her smile, the way she felt in my arms, under me.

"Dumpty, you got it?"

Bosco's voice jarred me out of my thoughts and brought me back to the play. I sprinted toward him and stretched my arm out, ready to snag the ball out of the air. The move tweaked my shoulder, but I fought the wince once again. If Coach Wilson saw that I was hurting, I'd be back to riding the bench. So I breathed through the pain and forced a smile to my face as my glove snapped around the ball.

The crowd roared. Two outs.

I did my shuffle—pulling my arms in and lifting my shoulders, letting them bounce while I crisscrossed along the outfield with the ball in my glove. The sound system blasted, all bass, and I spun on the beat. God, I loved playing it up. And I could guarantee Knight was over at third doing his own. I turned that way and found him spinning. And our mascots—three Revolutionary War soldiers wearing Revs jerseys over their regimental coats—jumped up and joined us in the dance.

When the seats they'd been sitting in were empty, I caught sight of the sticker on one of the chairs. With a brow arched, I pointed to Bosco, then the chair.

His only response was a laugh so boisterous I could hear it over the music.

With a smirk, I tossed the ball to Martinez at short and then subtly rolled out my shoulder. Luckily, the next batter went down swinging, giving me a break. When I stepped to the plate two innings later, I was loose and ready. The perfect pitch slid straight down the center, above home plate. Easy pickings. My bat collided with the leather, sending a crack vibrating up my arms. My shoulder burned, but I smiled as the ball flew high and straight over the outer wall.

Every step around the bases had my shoulder tightening, and by the time I made my way back to the dugout, I couldn't fight the grimace anymore.

The instant I hit that last concrete step, Coach, blue eyes narrowed like he's bracing for a fight, said, "You're done."

I didn't have it in me to argue. Not this time. So I lowered my head and gave him a small nod.

"Your shoulder's tight," he continued, like it hadn't registered that I'd agreed so easily. "Go see Rory."

As much as I hated to be pulled from the game, a thrill still raced through me at that last command. As much as I needed ice and some stim, I was most interested in the person who'd be working on me. In a matter of a week, she'd once again become my favorite person on the planet. The three-run homer I'd just added to our two-run lead gave us a nice cushion and had me feeling okay with sitting out for the rest of the game.

I made my way down the long tunnel that led to the locker room with only my girl in mind. We had left things unfinished when she went home, but one look at her, and my world was right again. That instant reaction told me all I needed to know. I stepped into the training room and clicked the door shut behind me.

The quiet sound had her looking up from the clipboard in her hands. She searched me, a crease forming between her brows, and her lips parted. "What?—"

I pinned her to the wall and dropped my mouth to hers, effectively cutting her off and thoroughly devouring her. Had it only been a day? It felt like I'd gone weeks without tasting her. She was the perfect flavor, made just for me. I couldn't get enough of her lips on mine.

"I fucking miss you," I mumbled against her mouth.

She pulled back, her eyes wide and her breath coming in hard puffs between us. "We're not supposed to be doing this."

"I don't believe that, and neither do you."

She huffed and hit me with the cutest glower. She wanted to deny it, but I could see it in her eyes. She couldn't fight the pull between us either.

I molded my lips to hers again, content to stand here all day and kiss her.

Yeah. Baseball was fun, and I loved my teammates, but when it came to where I wanted to be? There was no contest. I didn't want to choose, but if I had to, I'd pick Aurora every damn time.