Chapter 35

MATT

* * *

I look around the spring training stadium, the Carolina Reapers logo looming over the outfield. I take a deep breath, the thick humidity of the Florida air making it difficult to breathe easily.

"Is it what you thought it would be?" Alexander Decker, General Manager for the Carolina Reapers, pulls me from my thoughts.

I haven't seen him since New Year's, and seeing him today brings back memories of that night. Most of the partygoers were totally unaware of what happened. I'm not sure how much Alexander knows. Knowing that gossipy group, he probably knows more than I do.

I was on top of the world. My girl was the belle of the ball, and I was going to tell her I loved her that night. The feel of her in my arms on the balcony. Then, the look on her face when Cole found us. That look of devastation. Sadness. I did that to her. Her night was ruined because I couldn't find the courage to talk to her brother. I wasn't disciplined enough to keep my hands off her for one night. The shame has eaten away at me throughout my time in Mexico, but I need to put that away for now.

I can't dwell on my past. Forward. That's where I need to focus my energies. Looking ahead. At what I can control. I can't control the past, can't change it. God knows I've wanted to.

"Thanks for the opportunity."

"You earned it." We stand shoulder to shoulder, looking out over the stadium. "This is just a little taste of your future, Matt."

"Thanks. I hope so. I'm looking forward to a long career as a Reaper." It's what I've wanted since I was a kid. Me and Cole, Reapers. Now he's a New York Liberty. Not part of my future on the field or off. Because I crossed a line. The one line I knew better than to cross. My action. My own consequences.

"How was Mexico?" He arches an eyebrow, giving me a knowing look. Yep. Gossipy group. But I can't picture the serious, broody Alexander Decker part of Team True Love. It's laughable just thinking about it.

"Um, it was nice. A good break, I guess. I worked out a lot. I'm ready for the season." Yep. His look is a dead giveaway. He knows.

"You know, this game isn't just physical. It's mental too. Maybe even more so. You got your head sorted out?"

The question reminds me he's my boss, not my friend. The lines can get blurred with the Deckers. "I'm ready to give you one hundred fifty percent."

"I like your work ethic. You talking to Cole yet?" I shrug.

He grins at me, something I haven't seen before in my encounters with him. It's practically unsettling. Alexander is a grumpy guy. His smiles are reserved for his sister, and only when he doesn't think she's looking.

His hand clasps my shoulder. "So you know, we'll be playing the Liberties in a few days. I hear Cole's at camp with them, just like you. That going to be a problem?"

"No, sir. No problem at all." I swallow hard. "I'm here to play ball."

I'm excited for Cole. Getting invited to spring training is a big deal, especially with the Liberties. They have a solid, mature team with serious World Series contention this year. My excitement wanes. He didn't tell me. He didn't share one of the highlights of his life so far.

"Well, glad to hear it. But take it from me, ball won't last forever." He squeezes my shoulder and walks away. "And people aren't around forever either."

Alexander Decker is a man of few words, and damn if those few words don't hit home. I remember Ashleigh told me he had a promising baseball career until injury ended it around the same time their mother died of cancer. Two significant losses at the same time when he was my age. No wonder he's a surly bastard. Unfortunately, he's right. People and relationships don't last. Trust me, I'm living proof.

* * *

"Check your pockets," Tripp mumbles as we head out of the clubhouse. He gives me a wink, and I reach into my pocket and find a few pieces of bubble gum. I'm on heightened alert. Is this gum safe? Is Tripp saving me from some prank? Or is this the prank? Either way, it's a total mind-fuck. Bastard. I cock my head at him as he walks to the bullpen, laughing.

It's our first game of spring training. These games don't count in the season, but it's a time to evaluate young talent like me. Several of my Ghost Peppers teammates are here too.

Jake Yelle is one of my Ghost Pepper teammates who's had four years in the minors and this is his first time at Reaper's spring training. It's nice to see a familiar face here. Last night, I asked him to dinner, conscious I hadn't attempted to bond with him or my other teammates much last season. At dinner, Jake let me know my lone-wolf attitude got me a reputation as a player who thinks he's better than the rest of the team. He recommended I work on building relationships with them. Well, yeah, that's what I learned last night. Peachy. Unfortunately, he's right.

He also told me I'm going to have to deal with several jealous teammates. I stepped in and got a starting spot and made it to Florida my first year, when most had to work their way here after several years in the minors. It's not that I didn't work, but I've been on a fast track. On the positive side, he said they also admire my talent and work ethic. Contrary to their belief, I'm not a lone wolf and I want to be a leader in the clubhouse. I vow to be a good teammate, effective immediately. Jake offered to help me build the connections and I'm taking him up on it.

I opened up a bit with him, not sharing all the drama, or specifics. I appreciate his candor and willingness to speak the truth to me. It was the first step to making a new friend. Honest communication. The irony isn't lost on me.

My other potential landmine is appearing close to Tripp or the Deckers because that doesn't need to add to my reputation too. Now this thing with the gum. If I'm not pranked with the other guys, is it another example of me not being one of them? Or am I the one getting pranked? I want to skip the gum, but superstitions and baseball go hand in hand. I've never played a game without my bubblegum. Fuck.

The weather is warm, and the sun hits my face as I stand behind the first baseline for the national anthem. I'm starting on third base today, and our team is a mixture of Reapers and Ghost Peppers, like me. Paul Jackson, their starting third baseman, confidently sits out, knowing his spot with the Reapers is safe. Many starters don't mind sitting out, avoiding the possibility of injury in games that don't count and giving them more energy for the golf course. Spring training is a warmup to the season for them. For guys like me, it's a time to prove to the team why we should get called up to the show.

My nerves keep me on edge as I grasp for something to steady me. As I take the field, I hear cheers from the crowd. Even at a spring training game, Reaper fans show up and stand out. I see my parents cheering me on above the visitor's dugout. I'm shaken to find they have an entire cheering section with them. The McIntyres, the family I lived with during my Savannah Pajamas days, are sitting there too. Behind them are Julian and Trevor, both enjoying a cold beer and a laugh. When I see Ashleigh and Emma, I freeze. Ashleigh is here. I swallow the lump in my throat. They're all here for me, and I had no idea. Of course, I haven't been great at communicating, so another thing that's my fault. I'm rattled.

"Let's go, boys!" Jake yells from behind home plate. He's sliding his mask on, getting us focused. My attention shifts from the stands to the job at hand. My focus is winning this game against the Philadelphia Patriots and showing Alexander Decker he made a good decision when he drafted me.

I smile at my cheering section and concentrate on the field. This game may not count in our statistics, but it definitely counts for me. It's the start of a new chapter. One of heartache and loss. One of new beginnings and searching for a place to belong.

We leave the field after an easy inning and are in the dugout preparing to bat. Jake reaches into the tub of bubblegum and tosses a piece into his mouth.

"Awww, fuck!" he yells. The Reapers keep their eyes on the field, but I can see their shoulders shake with silent laughter.

"What's wrong?" I ask. He spits out his gum and reaches for his water. His eyes are tearing, and he's coughing.

"Hot." That's all he's able to get out. He's still rinsing his mouth and spitting. After a minute, he's able to talk. "Tastes like a fucking hot pepper."

Tripp turns around and finally acknowledges him, a smile taking up his entire face. "It's Reaper gum. Welcome to the hottest team in the MLB." With a tip of his cap, he turns around to cheer on our batter.

The entire game, Ashleigh and Emma are relentless with their chirping, harassing the players from Philadelphia. The crowd is chill, so when they yell, both dugouts can hear them and laugh. The Philly guys try to be more low-key with their laughter. It's the top of the sixth inning, and Sanders is up to bat for the Patriots. He was a Reaper until he went to Philly two years ago, when he became a free agent and signed a huge contract. I think the Reapers are still a little bitter about him leaving for money.

"Hey, Sanders! You've been to more Taylor Swift concerts than you've hit a baseball." Ashleigh is cracking everyone up. She knows the players and just the right thing to say.

"It's true," his third base coach says to me. "He's a Swiftie."

"Who isn't?" I respond. I let my mind wander for a moment and wonder if Darcy went to the concert in Miami.

The music starts overhead with a little "Bad Blood," and the crowd goes wild. It must be the motivation Sanders needs because he hits a line drive straight to me. I catch it for the last out. I jog back to the dugout but not before glancing at the stands and winking to Ashleigh. Maybe all hope isn't lost.

The clubhouse is loose after the win. Alexander joins the coach to offer his congratulations. "Great plays on the bag, Hartman," Alexander says. "Solid hitting."

I nod my acknowledgment.

He goes around the room with praise and a few pointers when necessary. It's interesting to see the GM this involved with the daily operations and performance of the team. Alexander Decker's leadership is impressive and I respect him for it. His actions show the Reapers are more than a job or business for him. It's his family.

I exit the locker room and am greeted by my cheering section. "Nice fan club," Jake says as he walks past.

"Yeah, it is," I say. Seeing them all reminds me how much I missed everyone when I fled to Mexico. My mom wraps her arms around my waist and hugs me tight. Mrs. Mac, Emma, and Ashleigh follow her.

Dad shakes my hand and puts his other hand on my shoulder. "Good game, son. Damn, good game. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Dad." I scan the group. "Thanks for being here. It means a lot."

Trevor and Julian walk up, slapping me on the back.

"I love to see a Pajama all grown up," Trevor says. "I'm like a proud papa." He winks at Dad.

"You're drunk," Emma says, slapping him on the arm.

"Not yet, but working on it," he says, giving her a smirk.

"Hey, our Uber's here," Julian says to Trevor. He turns to me. "Good game. We'll catch up soon. Stay focused, amigo."

"Sounds good."

My parents and the McIntyres say their goodbyes, and we agree to meet later tonight. Emma leaves with Julian and Trevor, leaving me and Ashleigh.

"Can I meet you back at the hotel?" she asks. "Grab a drink?"

"Well, I never took you for a cleat chaser, but that line sure did come out smooth." I test the water with our usual banter.

"Once a jersey chaser, always a jersey chaser." Her genuine smile reaches her eyes. She takes my hand, her diamond engagement ring catching my eye.

"You're done chasing, remember." I hold her hand up and kiss it. I chuckle and wiggle my eyebrows.

"Yep. Just locking down the best man."

My smile disappears. "I'm sure that offer has been rescinded."

"Nah. Meet me for a drink. Please."

"You know where we're staying?"

Her looks say "Duh" without a word. Her family owns the team. This may be my first spring training, but it isn't hers.

"Yeah, of course, you do. Sure, I'll meet you in the bar."

The ride back to the hotel on the team bus is chaotic. Everyone makes dinner plans, talks to loved ones on their phones, and the pitching coach blasts music through the speakers.

"Who was that hottie? I heard you're meeting her at the hotel. She sure knew the players enough that her chirps were on point. I bet she's fire if you know what I mean," Jake says from across the aisle. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"What?! No." I shake my head, ensuring my no is loud and clear. I debate telling him who she is, but I don't want my connections to add to my "I think I'm better than everyone" reputation that needs to change. No doubt if I say her brother owns your contract and her daddy signs your paycheck, that would shut him up, but I let it slide. I go with the less controversial response. "She's a friend from school."

"Well, maybe I'll hang around and get her number."

"I wouldn't recommend it," I mumble.

When we arrive at the hotel, several of us head to the bar. Ashleigh is curled up in a chair looking over the drink menu. Tripp walks past and squeezes her shoulder, but keeps going to a table in the back with the other guys. No doubt he knows why she's here, and it's not to catch up with him.

"Hey." Now I'm nervous. My mouth is dry, and I don't know the proper protocol here. She's not here for friendly chit-chat. It's time to face the music, and I've no idea what to say or how to fix this. Hopefully, she'll take the lead.

"Hey, I just ordered some appetizers and you a beer. That okay?" She's relaxed, not nervous at all.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks." I sit in the chair across from her and lean forward, my elbows on my knees, head down, looking at the flower vase on the cocktail table between us. I'd like to blame my emotional crash on the adrenaline dying down, but I can't. Not if I'm being honest. Which is something I've had difficulty with lately.

"So?" she asks.

I look up to find her blue eyes looking me over. I'm not sure what she wants me to say, so I just shrug.

"Okay, fine. If you want me to do the talking, I will. First, you look great. Did you just eat protein and pump iron in Mexico because, damn." She gives me a once-over and smiles. I cock my eyebrow and give her a smirk. She knows better than that.

With a deep breath, I begin my confession. "I didn't know what else to do. I figured everyone needed space. And then, I didn't want to leave once I was there. Figured it was best for everyone. Out of sight, out of mind, you know?"

She listens and nods. "Well, you weren't out of mind, and I think you gave everyone more than enough time."

"Cole didn't answer my calls." Let's talk about him instead. I can't even crack the door to ask about Darcy. I didn't even give her the courtesy of a breakup text.

"No, he didn't. But after we left Charleston last week…" Her sentence trails off. They were in Charleston?

"What? What happened?"

"You guys need to talk." She makes it sound so easy.

The waitress brings our food and drinks. I take a hard pull of my beer, drinking half the bottle down.

Ashleigh picks at the appetizer platter and sips her drink, watching me. We eat and drink in uncomfortable silence. She's letting me stew in my indecisiveness. I slam the rest of my beer.

"Thirsty? Or am I making you nervous?" She quirks her eyebrow at me.

"Honestly, a little of both. So, is she?" I fumble with what I want to ask, what I want to know. "How is she?"

Ashleigh is not here to kiss my ass. She squares her shoulders, looks me right in the eyes, and is about to lay it on me. "Matt Hartman. For a smart guy, you sure are dumb. How do you think she is? She won't talk to Cole, barely communicates with me, and drives Sammie crazy because she's like a zombie. Our full-of-life, fun girl, Darcy, is a fucking zombie, Matt. She's lost her spark."

The thought of Darcy without her spark guts me. She brings so much love and beauty into the world, and now she doesn't sparkle?

I'm drowning in guilt. I did this to her. My shoulders droop under the weight of my actions. "She's always had a crush on me. When she meets someone new, she'll realize it was just a crush."

She looks at me in disbelief. "Matt, she's heartbroken. Believe me. I know the signs." She winces at the memory. "She loves you. It's more than a silly schoolgirl crush. So, the question is, do you love her back?"

Of course, I love her. I love her so much that it physically hurts. I can't even think about her without my chest tightening, my heart trying to hold itself together. But none of this changes the fact that she needs a stable foundation, and a baseball player is not stable. And she's Cole's little sister. Off-limits.

I stare at the table. I can't look Ashleigh in the eye when I lie to her. "It was just a fling. She'll get over it."

I wait for Ashleigh's response, but I'm met with silence. When I garner the courage to look up, she's halfway out of the bar.

My phone buzzes with a text. It just says one word.

LIAR.