Chapter 26

Brooks

As expected,this Fiery thong is uncomfortable as hell.

I can see why Mackenzie's dads call it making peace with the universe.

I'm the last one to leave the locker room to head out to the dugout for warm-ups before our series opener with Minneapolis, where it's colder than my sister's third boyfriend's nipples after my brothers and I iced them until he cried and promised he'd never take nude photos of another woman as blackmail material, especially given how he doctored her photo, which I still can't think about without feeling psychologically scarred.

I was ten or twelve, and it was my initiation into helping my brothers avenge our big sister.

You could say it left an impression.

On me, I mean. I was old enough to know that my sister was awesome, but some fuckwads didn't see it. And with three brothers between us who understood the world even better than I did—even if we were all kids—I got plenty of lessons in respecting people of all sizes, shapes, colors, and personalities.

So yeah, I'm wearing my thong for punishment, because I was a total dick to the universe in fighting against joining the Fireballs.

Still wouldn't have been my first choice if I had to leave New York, but it's where I am, so it's where I'm going to play my heart out.

Luca's tying a shoe outside the batter's box when I hit the field, and he stops and stares. "What. The. Fuck?"

I turn so he can admire my cape. "Don't be jealous, Rossi. Not everyone can make an eye mask look this good. You're gonna have to settle for being less than Fireball Man."

"Dude, I think you gave Santiago heartburn." Cooper's on the ground stretching, and he's unabashedly grinning at my crotch. "That's some thong."

I grab my crotch. "Fucking right."

"Elliott, what the hell are you doing?" Addie Bloom—our batting coach, who takes zero shit from any of us and who's been trying to get me to change my stance to improve my swing—looks up from monitoring Lopez in batting practice. Even with her sunglasses on, I can feel the why me? glare coming off her.

I pick the thong string out of my ass and hope it doesn't leave marks on my uniform. All the cameras are turning to get me at all angles, and I hope Mackenzie's watching, because she was right.

Fiery looks damn cool stretched out over my cup.

I smile at our batting coach. "I'm channeling my inner slugger."

She stops in front of me and looks directly at my crotch. "That cutting off circulation to your legs?"

"Only in the good tingly kind of way."

No reaction. "Great. Get in the box and take a few swings. Let's see if we need you wearing that under your uniform for the rest of the season."

Addie's a few years younger than me, with about the same number of older brothers that I have, and it shows in the way she handles all of us.

Basically, she doesn't let any of us get away with anything.

"And if you get your bat caught up on that cape and hurt your shoulders or strangle yourself, you get to explain to management where your head is this morning." She claps her hands. "Lopez, you're done. Let Super Stud here see what his panties can do for him."

"Three more, coach?" Lopez calls from the batter"s box.

She jerks her thumb in a get out motion.

He steps back from the plate. "So if I wear a cape and mask tomorrow, do I get to finish my swings?"

"You strike out every at-bat today, and we'll get you Fiery on your crotch too."

Santiago's shaking his head, but there's a gleam in his eye. The skipper's been around the league long enough that this is undoubtedly not the weirdest thing he's ever seen.

Makes me want to try harder next time.

"Leave him time to talk to the media before the game, Bloom," he says as she marches me past.

"Understood, Skipper." She lowers her voice. "Smart, not doing it at home. You'd get pulled from the game so you could stand in as the fourth mascot option."

I grab my crotch again. "Fiery forever."

She smirks.

So do all of my teammates.

They know what's going on, and I don't care.

Jacking off while watching Mackenzie work her pussy until she couldn't stand?

I want more of that. A lot more. And that means I need to be able to hit a fucking ball today.

So that's what I'm going to do.

Whatever it takes to prove to her that we can kiss.

We can touch.

We can have sex.

I'm done letting my personal life negatively influence my professional life. Superstitions can suck it.

And Brooks Elliott, professional baseball player, kid at heart, is going to win the fuck out of this game today.