10. Boston

TEN

boston

I dug my cleats into the dirt, the roar of the crowd rising like a beast behind me. Bases loaded, two outs, tied game—every single eye was on me, every ounce of hope targeted at me, at-bat.

Gripping the bat with white knuckles, I exhaled slowly, silencing all thoughts except for me and the pitcher. The world narrowed to this, to the stretch and pitch, to the spin of the ball hurling toward me. Time seemed to slow as I swung, feeling the crack of solid contact radiate through my entire body.

The ball soared. I didn't need to watch it land to know it was going far—the eruption from the stands told me everything. My teammates cheered as I glanced ahead to the runners ahead of me charging towards home plate, their paths clearing for me round the bases. Dust flew around me as I made the final sprint to home. I scrambled up, looked around, and was met with a moment I’d always dreamed of—the team was rushing out onto the field, surrounding me, shouting with excitement.

The guys piled on me, screaming and high-fiving. My first out-of-the-park home run—not just a home run, but a grand slam. An electric charge surged through my veins, a thrill that went beyond a personal goal. It was a childhood dream.

A lifelong dream of mine had come true and somehow Chandler still slipped through the adrenaline of the moment. I gazed at the sea of faces, searching for those bright hazel eyes, hoping to catch just a glimpse of her reaction and see her expression. Scanning the stands was a bust, though. There was too much excitement to find her, but I knew her well enough to know she was probably jumping up and down.

Parker slung his arm around my shoulders. "Knew it was going to happen this summer," he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a wry smile with clear satisfaction in his eyes. "There's no coming back from that, man. Every major league team is gonna know your name now."

I just nodded, still half-dazed, the echo of the crowd's roar still lingering in my ears like a dream. We headed toward the dugout, the rest of the team trailing behind us, talking and laughing. And then Reese stepped forward, blocking my path with a stance that was all too familiar—confrontational, yet with a glint of something else in his eyes. Then his face broke into a smile.

"It kills me to admit it," he said, his voice not carrying his usual edge, "but that was pretty badass." There was a trace of respect, maybe even admiration, that I hadn’t expected from him.

He reached out a fist, waiting for me to reach out, too, for the fist bump. But a memory from the other night resurfaced.

He had carried Chandler out of the bar, his arm secure around her waist. Watching them disappear was harsh, but I had no choice besides reluctant acceptance. It sucked—there was no better word for it—watching him take control, seeing how well he stepped into the role of protecting her at all costs. But deep down, beneath the discomfort, I knew his intentions were good. They shared a history that I wasn't a part of, one that I knew they probably hadn’t completely shut the door on. Chander alone would have to decide if she wanted to close that chapter.

Reese and I couldn’t have been more different, but we both harbored an urge to protect Chandler. Maybe it was in our blood, or maybe it was simply who we were in relation to her—two people hopelessly drawn to who she was, how silly she could be when she let her guard down, her loyalty.

I knew I needed to give them space, to step back and let them have their moment. As much as I wanted to intervene, I couldn’t. If she decided to be with me, I wanted her completely—without any lingering doubts or hesitation. So I stood there, watching from a distance, wanting to punch Ben in the face to keep my mind off whatever was happening between Chandler and Reese.

"Thanks, Reese,” I said, returning his fist bump, bringing me back to the moment.

The crowd started to leave, and the team shuffled into packing up gear.

"Hey, let's celebrate at my house tonight!" Reese yelled. “A grand slam. We have to celebrate that shit.”

Bailey, always over the top, started banging on the metal cage to get the team's attention. "Riley! Riley!" he chanted. The chant caught on, each team member joining in until my last name reverberated around the field.

"Riley! Riley!"

Coach clapped a sturdy hand on my back, guiding me out of the dugout. "You've got some fans who want to meet you," he said, his eyes crinkling with pride.

I shook hands with a line of men whose faces blurred together in my adrenaline-fueled haze—all except for one, Colin, whose firm handshake stood out from the others. "Impressive game," he said, his voice carrying an undertone of promise. He had to be someone important, no doubt. "You'll be hearing from me, kid."

"Thank you, sir," I replied, trying to seem engrossed in the moment. But the truth was that every few seconds my eyes darted to the stands, searching for a particular set of hazel eyes.

Where was Chandler? My heart sank a little with each glance that came up empty. I knew she had to be there, probably cheering louder than anyone else. If not for me, always for Parker. But she seemed to have vanished in the chaos. The stands were abandoned now, only a few popcorn buckets and drinks left behind.

I slung my baseball bag over my shoulder with a heavy sigh and made my way across the parking lot to where my truck waited under a spotlight from the dim glow of the overhead lights. And there she was, Chandler Hartford, leaning casually against the side of my truck as if she owned a piece of it, and, by extension, a piece of me.

"Grand slam, huh?" She said, light and teasing. "Couldn't have just hit a regular home run?"

I stopped in my tracks, a slow grin replacing my disappointment . I would do anything for this stubborn, complicated woman who had captured my heart from the first time she slipped that friendship bracelet on my wrist.

"Guess I just wanted to get your attention," I shot back, the words coming easier than expected.

She laughed, then, a sound that felt more like home than home plate itself. “ You got my attention alright," she said with a softness in her eyes she hadn’t shown much this summer. "But you're not off the hook. I need a word with you."

She wore a small smile. It was an expression I wasn't used to having directed at me. For once, she didn't seem upset.

"What did I do now?" I asked as I tossed my bag into the truck bed.

She put her hands on her hips, the stance familiar and somehow endearing. "You know," she started, an edge of curiosity softening her usual confrontational tone, "I always thought they were from Kristina." Her eyes searched mine, waiting for an explanation.

I turned back to her, leaning against the truck's side. "What was from Kristina?" I asked, trying to decipher what she was trying to tell me.

The evening breeze shuffled her hair as she looked up at me. She took a small step forward, closing some of the space I had put between us for so long.

“The roses you left for me after every performance this year,” she said, her voice soft and unexpectedly vulnerable. “I thought they were from Kristina.”

I stilled, processing her words. “What are you talking about?” How could she have found out?

“I got a call from my stage manager today,” she explained, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Told her I was on my way to a baseball game, and she said it was about time I gave that baseball boy the time of day. The one who left all the flowers. I know it was you, Boston.”

I leaned back against the tailgate, arms folded as she stood with her hands on her hips.

I sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to let this go unless I explained myself. "I still never miss a show. No matter how pissed I am at the world or how much I'm messing everything else up. I'll never miss you on stage, Chandler."

It was the truth. No matter what I was going through, no matter how broken and disconnected from the world I felt, I still couldn’t bring myself to miss one of her damn shows. And I had tried.

Her expression softened for a fraction of a second before her resolve returned. "Boston, I don’t know what to say," she said, a challenging glint in her eyes. "But don't think you're in my good graces just yet. You've been pushing me away all year. You have a lot more groveling to do."

I pushed off from the truck, stepping closer, the gravel beneath my shoes crunching softly. I wasn’t holding back anymore. I knew I had a lot of work to do, to close every inch of distance my stubbornness had created between us. "For you, Chandler, I'd get down on my knees and beg if that’s what you want." I meant every word.

Chandler reached up, her fingers brushing lightly against my cheek as she rose on tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss there. My world narrowed to the warmth of her lips on my skin, the sweet scent of her hair as it brushed against my face. She left a fire on my cheek that felt like it might burn straight through me.

"I’ll keep that in mind.” she said tenderly. "Thank you for the roses, Boston. I’ll see you later tonight.”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself—at the thought of actually having a shot with the girl I’ve always wanted. It wasn’t just some far-off dream anymore—it felt real, like something I could actually reach out and grab. As I watched her walk away and I climbed into my truck, I was struck with sudden hope. Maybe she wasn’t out of reach, as I’d always thought. Maybe this summer it would finally be the right time for us.

After we’d cleaned up, Parker and I made our way to Reese’s crowded house party.

"Boston, I’ve been looking for you!" Caroline said just as I stepped inside. She came up beside me, pulling me in her direction by my arm. Then she leaned in close, toying with the hem of my shirt. "You were really impressive tonight."

"Thanks, Caroline. But the entire team was impressive." I was already getting tired of the attention. And if I was being honest, there was really only one person I wanted attention from.

"You’re not acting like you missed me as much as I missed you," she pouted, her hand still lingering under the bottom of my shirt.

"Sorry, just exhausted from the game," I lied, trying my best to be polite and not let the disinterest take over. Caroline was beautiful, anyone would be lucky to get her attention. If I was being honest, I had no idea why something hadn’t clicked between us. We had hooked up a few times last summer, and it was fun but I’d made it clear how I felt about her.

"Okay, Boston," she said, skepticism written all over her face. “I’ll come find you later.” I breathed out a sigh of relief, scanning the room for the familiar brunette that was consuming my thoughts.

I made my way around, exchanging brief nods and words with a few teammates, and eventually made my way back toward Parker.

"Really?" he asked the girl beside him, his voice filled with genuine surprise. "You don't think I have a shitty haircut?"

He was leaning against the kitchen counter. A girl whose name I didn’t know was standing extremely close to him.

"No, I think it's a little douchey, but it suits you," she flirted back, her hand boldly skimming over Parker's arm.

Parker chuckled. "I really need to get a new haircut," he replied, ruffling his hair.

Then I noticed Willow. She was standing nearby, eyes narrowed, the grip on her red plastic cup tightening—the liquid inside sloshed dangerously close to spilling over the rim.

I stepped closer to her and blocked the view of Parker.

"Want to see what's going on outside?" I asked, hoping I could relieve her from the show.

"Yeah," she sighed, slumping her shoulders. "That girl's desperation is appalling."

"Lead the way," I said, gesturing toward the back door.

When we got outside, I spotted Chandler with a crowd near the patio sectional. Some people were sitting, others were standing, playing one of my least favorite games. Willow sat down next to Chandler.

"Chandler, truth or dare?" Caroline asked.

"Dare," Chandler responded, her hazel eyes gleaming with defiance.

Caroline considered her options before glancing at me. A tight grin spread across her lips. "Okay, I dare you to give Bailey a lap dance," she declared. A chorus of cheers and hollers erupted from the group.

Fuck. My heart stuttered in my chest. I swallowed, irritated but curious to see what she’d do. I knew her, and I knew she’d never back down from a dare.

She shook her head and laughed as she approached Bailey. Her confidence both impressed and unnerved me. I took a casual sip of my drink, the burn of the liquid barely registering as I fixed my gaze on Chandler. With every one of her deliberate steps towards Bailey, my hand tightened around my cup, knuckles whitening. A laugh escaped her lips as she settled onto his lap. It was the same sweet sound I'd heard a thousand times before, but tonight it grated against my nerves.

"Let’s go girl," Bailey egged on. But his smile started to crumble when he bit his lip—a clear sign that he was more into this dare than he was letting on.

Something twisted in my stomach as I watched and, without thinking, I set my cup down with more force than necessary and walked over to them, placing a firm hand on Bailey's shoulder. "How about we not do this with Parker's little sister?" My voice was calm, but there was an edge to it I couldn't hide.

Bailey looked up, annoyance flickering across his features. "It's just a game, come on," he said dismissively, but he knew better than to argue. With a gentle tug, I helped Chandler off his lap.

Her eyes flared with indignation as she pulled me to a hidden area of the backyard, away from the prying eyes and laughter of the crowd. "Boston, what are you doing?" she demanded, hands on hips, the fire in her stance betraying how annoyed she really was.

"Me?" I echoed, unable to keep the frustration from seeping into my voice. "I'm looking out for you." She let out a scoff and turned to walk away, but not before firing back.

"Looking out for me? Fucking great. There you go, treating me like I'm just Parker’s little sister. I'm not a child anymore, Boston. When are you going to realize that?"

I watched her turn to storm away. Her accusation was highly irritating because deep down I knew she was right, she wasn’t a child anymore—I saw her as so much more. But admitting that felt like stepping off a cliff with no idea where the fuck I’d land.

“Fuck it.” I snapped. I reached out and grabbed her wrist, halting her mid-step. She spun around, hazel eyes wide with surprise as she stumbled into my embrace. My grip tightened and I wrapped one hand around her waist—just enough to let her know I wasn't going anywhere. Not without resolving the tension that had been building between us. The world seemed to shrink and fade away, leaving only the small space between us, charged with years of unspoken truth and desire.

I lifted her chin gently, tilting her face up to mine. "If I thought of you as a child, would I kiss you like this?"

When my lips crashed against Chandler's, it wasn't just a kiss—it was a fucking declaration, a statement, everything I'd ever wanted it to be. I poured into it everything I'd kept locked away—every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every moment I'd spent picturing this. Her lips were like velvet against mine. There was no more holding back. Our tongues moved together seamlessly, our hearts pounding. There was no room for uncertainty or doubt—she needed to fucking know my desire. My hips pressed against hers as we backed against the ivy-covered fence.

A soft moan escaped her as she melted against me. Her hands found their way into my hair, pulling me closer and deeper into her. It was a revelation of desire and emotion that consumed us both, leaving us breathless. I wanted her to feel the way every inch of my body responded to her. I needed her to know that I could never see her like a little sister. After this moment she’d know exactly where I stood.

We broke apart, lips parted with reluctance. I rested my forehead against hers and looked down at her lips, ones I’d so often thought about, now slightly swollen and flushed a deeper shade of pink. I leaned back but lingered close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin, to see her eyes flutter open, burning fiercely with desire.

"I don't see you like that," I whispered as I delicately traced my fingers down her arm, until they locked with hers.

I held her hand in mine for a moment then guided it down my body until it was pressed against my dick straining beneath my jeans—undeniable evidence of my thoughts. I could feel her pulse racing under my fingertips, see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her eyes glazed over as she realized what effect she had on me.

I released her hand, expecting her to step back, but she kept her hand exactly where I placed it. Her fingers began to trace small, intentional circles over my bulge. The unexpected boldness of her touch sent a rush of intense desire surging through my veins. I gripped the fence above her head to steady myself, my knuckles turning white. Every muscle in my body tensed, my hands trembled with the urge to lift her skirt and show her how badly I wanted her.

She smirked, her eyes glinting with trouble. "Boston," she teased, adding more pressure, her breath hot against my neck. "If I knew all I had to do was give Bailey a lap dance to get you to kiss me like that, I would have done it a long time ago."

"How about you don't ever do that again," I said, the words escaping through gritted teeth as I fought to keep my composure.

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Why? Because you think it would upset Parker?" She tilted her chin in a challenge.

I tightened my grip on her wrist, stopping the pleasure and torture she was inflicting with her hand. With a swift pull, I brought her against me. "No," I whispered, my hold firm but not rough. "Because I didn't like it."

She leaned back against the fence, a defiant look on her face. "What if you were the one I was giving it to?" She was trying to push the boundaries, but there was an innocence to her challenge that told me this was all uncharted territory for her. Still, I couldn't resist taking the bait. I bit my lip, fighting back a slight smile.

"Look," I started, voice low and steady despite the hurricane of emotions she stirred in me. "You can dance for me whenever you want." Leaning in closer, I whispered in her ear as I let the words slip out. "But when you do," I continued, my words deliberate, "you better be wearing less clothes... and no one," I emphasized, my tone dipping into something darker, more possessive, "no one will be watching us."

A sharp intake of breath was her only response. I could feel her quickening pulse where my fingers gripped her wrist. Her eyes softened just enough to let me know she was intrigued.

"Chandler!" A voice broke us out of the moment.

I released her, stepping back with a suddenness that left the space between us cold and gaping. She pivoted on her heel, the hem of her skirt swirling around her thighs, her expression a mix of mischief and amusement.

"Go on," I said, a half-smile on my face as I watched her leave.

She hesitated for a moment as she quickly fixed her hair, eyes still filled with that teasing challenge. She rounded the corner, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I leaned against the fence, letting out a long breath. My head was spinning in the whirlwind of emotions she’d stirred up. I knew there was no going back. We'd crossed the line, and for the first time, I didn't care about the consequences.