Chapter 38

MATT

* * *

"Hartman, get in here!" Alexander Decker calls from the coach's office.

"Oh man, good luck," Jake says.

We're dressing after warm-ups, preparing for our game with the Liberties. I feel like I'm about to lose the contents of my stomach, but I'm not sure how much of that is from the game or the blanket of guilt I'm wrapped up in after my conversation with Ashleigh three days ago. I lied to her twice. Fling? Mistake? Two words that damn near killed me to say about Darcy. I'm an idiot.

Several sets of concerned eyes watch me as I scan the locker room. I've performed well, so I doubt this is about my gameplay, but who knows?

I knock on the open door to the office, where a grim-faced Alexander greets me.

"What's up?" I ask, pushing the nerves down.

"Close the door, Hartman," Alexander grumbles. "Take a seat." He motions to the chair in front of the desk next to Julian.

"I'd rather stand, if you don't mind." I can't feel closed in. Not now. Not when I might hurl all over the desk.

I look at Julian for some sort of lifeline. He smirks and shrugs. That's not helpful, Julian. I thought we were friends.

"Suit yourself," Alexander says. He looks me over, head to toe. "That Reaper logo looks good on you."

I look down at my chest, reminding myself what we're discussing. "I like it."

"You talk to Cole yet?"

"No." I shake my head. I meant to, but after what I said to Ashleigh, I didn't know how to approach him. I never should have told her Darcy was a fling. I'm trying to do what's best for Darcy, but it feels like my house of cards is tumbling down around me.

"Is it going to be a problem?"

"No, sir. I'll take care of it."

Alexander looks at me and sighs. His tough manager tone gone. "Look, Matt, I like you. You're a great defenseman and not bad on the bat. But more than that, I think you have heart. You care about people, relationships. I know this thing with Cole is eating you up, and I need you to resolve it. Not only for the team, but for you." His words are wrapped in kindness and compassion.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because my sister cares about you. She's an excellent judge of character, even if she is marrying a Liberty." He gives me a sly grin. "I don't know the details, and frankly don't care to, but you need to value friendships. Work your shit out with Cole."

He's right. I need to work it out after the game.

"Is that all?" I need to leave this office and get out on the field.

"Yeah, that's it. Have a good game."

I turn to leave and hear him say, "And the right girl is everything."

"Don't I know it," I mumble to myself.

* * *

We go through the pre-game ritual, but I can't keep that word from bouncing around in my head. Everything. Darcy is everything. She means more to me than baseball, than my friendship with Cole, than my happiness. That's why I let her go, right?

As some local beauty queen sings the National Anthem, I look over at Cole. He's wound tight, all his energy looking for a release. I've seen him like this before, and it rarely ends well. He won't look at me, his eyes focused on the outfield. I wonder if he's nervous about playing today or if it's more. As his friend and teammate, it was my job to talk him down and get him game ready. Who does that for him now? No one, it seems, because he looks like he's about to explode. Even though he doesn't look my way, I'm sure he knows I'm here. Ashleigh would've told him.

The acid swirls in my stomach. She must've told him I said it was a fling. I couldn't have told a bigger lie if I tried. It probably added fuel to his hatred.

The Liberties take the field while I prepare to bat. Despite it all, I smile. Cole looks good in his pinstriped uniform. He's kept his preference for high socks with this new uniform, and I like it. We're both traditionalists that way. I'll always be proud of my friend, even for the small things like how he wears his uniform.

I'm second in the batting order, and I take a few swings with the donut and watch their pitcher, trying to get a feel for his style. There wasn't much film to watch since he was a late substitution. I'll figure it out. Franklin strikes out on a high pitch he should never have swung at. My turn.

With a deep breath, I take my place at the plate. I block out the noise, the chatter, the cheers. The pitcher throws a wicked curveball, but I don't swing. Ball one. The second pitch is a fastball in my sweet spot. I swing, and the bat's crack tells me it's probably a solid base hit past the shortstop. I take off running for first, and my foot hits the bag a split second before I hear the ball hit his glove. The umpire calls me safe.

It all happens quickly. Cole swings around and shoves me off the base, knocking me to the ground. Over my shoulder, I see my team ready to come to my defense, but Alexander Decker tells them to stand down.

"What the hell?!" I yell as I get back up.

Cole gets in my face, nose to nose. "Fuck you!" He yells so hard spittle hits my face.

"Cole, calm down, man. Stop. This isn't you." I push him back, putting some space between us. We need to talk, but this isn't how I thought it would happen. Is this about me or the game? My mind is racing a mile a minute.

"Me? That's rich coming from you?" His tone is full of disdain.

"Coming from me?! What's YOUR problem, Davidson?" His eyes are wild, just like our New Year's encounter. He's still pissed. Time did not heal this, not one bit. He's shaking with anger.

He shoves me again, only this time I stay on my feet. The umpire approaches to break us up, but Alexander is on the field and asks him to step back to let it play out.

My focus is only on Cole. He's not the only one who's angry. My frustration, loss, and anger sit right below the surface, and Cole's reaction is giving me permission to let it out.

He steps closer, and now we're chest to chest. This time, I hold my ground. Last time, I didn't fight back, but now? Nope, I'm not taking it from him this time. I've paid for my sins with the highest price possible. I let her go. What more does he want from me? I've given everything. Everything.

"How could you toss her aside like she's some common cleat chaser?" His voice is full of rage.

"Seriously? Do you really believe that?" My hands go to the top of my batting helmet. Does he not know me? Does he think I'm capable of that?

"You said it was a fling!" He throws his arms out to his side, ensuring I see him standing in front of me.

"Fling? Are you that clueless? I fucking love her!" I yell at the top of my lungs. My words echo in the silence.

"You love her?" His tone is normal, practically hushed. He cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy. He flipped a switch and now I'm looking at my best friend, eye to eye. All his anger is instantly gone.

I nod. "I love her so much it hurts." My hand is on my heart, hoping it will ease the constant pain.

Cole gives me one of his signature cocky grins. "Okay."

"Okay?" What the hell does that mean?

"Yup. Okay." My best friend is back, that familiar mischievous twinkle in his eyes. I know that look, and it usually results in some kind of trouble.

"You two wanna play ball?" The umpire asks.

We laugh and embrace while both benches let out an audible sigh of relief. The stadium breaks out in cheers and applause.

"Yeah," Cole says. "My best friend is about to get his ass kicked on the field."

"Good luck with that," I tease. "Loser buys dinner."

"Bet," we both say. It's time to get back to the game. And then, we'll talk.