6. Kyle

“Since you already have my jersey, do you want the blue one? I could sign it.”

I held up a blue jersey with the number 29 printed on the back. On the rack in front of us was the pin-striped version in a kids’ size.

We’d been in the Revs store for about ten minutes, and Piper was struggling to decide what item she’d like. The boys were getting antsy, so Asher and Zara had taken them, along with their daughter, Clara, over to play with a bin of bouncy balls.

With every minute that passed, Piper was getting more agitated. Picking any item from the store could be fun, but for a kid like Piper, it was an overwhelming task. Especially in a bright space like this. The lighting was specifically set up to draw attention to multiple areas. For someone with sensory processing issues, this place was too bright, too loud, too overwhelming. If I’d asked Hannah what the plan was ahead of time, I could have made adjustments. But I had been pouting over a foul ball instead of focusing on what really mattered. Not that I’d known we’d have issues.

It wasn’t until I looked across the room to see the little redhead with pigtail braids nervously blinking over and over that, with my background, I understood. My heart cracked as I took her in. And boy, had I wanted to give the poor kid a hug when she claimed she wasn’t smart. An autism diagnosis didn’t negate a child’s intelligence. It didn’t rule out anything completely. JJ had mentioned that Piper loved the Revs, so I’d expected an excited kid. He’d always said she had some issues, but he’d never elaborated, and I’d never asked.

Now, for someone like me, it was abundantly clear. And rushing her in this situation would only cause her to stress more. As long as Hannah didn’t storm in, asking what was taking so long, I could be patient.

Hannah had a plan, though. She was geared up to take pictures and videos of us all laughing together while eating breakfast. She’d bribe the kids with Revs gear—that’s what this stop in the store was about—then we’d head up to the field, where she’d take more pictures and videos of us dicking around. At the end of the day, I was to drive Harper and the kids home and get footage of me with Harper and the kids around their apartment. I’d post. The Revs would post. Then Zara would release the photos to her sources and change the narrative. That, supposedly, would make the world believe that rather than hating Harper, I’d befriended her. Stupid dumb shit.

Regardless, if Hannah rushed in here, it’d only cause more stress for Piper.

Normally, I’d send Cam to deal with the head of PR, but he’d bowed out before we finished breakfast in the team room so he could make it to a meeting.

“Mom says no signed clothes.” Her slight pout reminded me of JJ. She looked so much like him. Sam too, especially in the eyes. They were the same brown color mixed with that mustardy yellow. “If it’s signed, we can’t wash it, and Mom has rules about washing clothes every day.”

I was learning that Piper’s mom had a lot of rules. The woman was so uptight. Though her constant state of clench might be why her ass looked so good in those black leggings. I shouldn’t be noticing things like that, but each time she stormed away, my eyes were drawn to her perfect ass.

“If you’re okay with never wearing the jersey, Mr. Bosco can sign it.”

“Kyle,” I corrected. Again.

Harper had a thing about the kids calling me “mister.” It didn’t seem right, given the situation. A situation I’d have to explain to Harper at some point. But that could wait. It was clear with every glare she shot my way that she disliked me. Telling her who I was, to her, to JJ wouldn’t help that situation.

If my life wasn’t consumed by baseball for ten months out of the year, and I hadn’t been a selfish prick when JJ’s life kinda imploded, there would be nothing to explain. I would know these people already. Hell, I should have known them long before everything went wrong. I should be Kyle to them.

In high school and college, when JJ and I played together, he’d easily been my best friend. When I was drafted and he wasn’t, we’d drifted. Especially since I’d spent eight years in California. The space I’d created between my former life and the freedom I’d found since being drafted may have been a bit much, and I’d held on to it too hard. And definitely for too long. Even when he got married, I’d kept that distance. It had been in the middle of the season, and I’d missed the wedding.

When his dad died, it had hit me just how far we’d drifted. That’s when I decided to make an effort with texts and phone calls. We’d seen each other more in the last year than in the ten before it, and I’d told myself I’d be even more involved once the season ended. That was why I’d promised to help with Harper and the kids.

“I’m not sure.” Piper blinked rapidly as she worried her bottom lip.

I wanted to tell her she could have one of everything. That seemed fair. But crabby pants had been clear the kids could each choose one thing. I was doing my best to keep my promise to JJ, to be a good guy, but this damn woman was making it hard.

“How about we get Mom set up while you decide?” I suggested, hoping to take some pressure off Piper.

I shuffled over to the women’s section and perused a rack. The kids had both shown up in Revs gear. Piper in my jersey and Sam in a gray Revs T-shirt. But Harper wasn’t sporting the Revs blue. Just like last night, there was no outward indication that she was a fan of America’s pastime. I swiped a medium jersey from the rack and undid the top two buttons.

“What are you doing?” Harper groused as I stalked toward her. Her lips were set in the same firm line they’d been in since she’d walked into the team room.

Between that and the perma-scowl, it was beyond clear that she was still upset with me. My job today was to fix that. If she’d only loosen up a bit and give me the chance.

As I approached her, I held the shirt up. She took a step back, but before she could get away, I yanked it over her head.

She sputtered and squirmed, clearly shocked, despite my obvious intention when I stepped up to her. What else could I have been doing with the jersey? I stepped back, and as I did, she struggled with the garment, fighting the fabric like it was on fire.

“If you put your arms through the holes, you’d be able to move,” I said, choking back a laugh at her ridiculous need to free herself of her cotton confines.

“I’m not wearing your number.” She stopped fighting then, snapping straight to glare at me.

I probably should have been offended, but it was hard to pull off when she looked so cute. Her auburn hair was falling out of the messy bun on the top of her head, and a scowl dusted with freckles adorned her face.

With a smirk, I pulled a pen from the center of one of the displays, pressed down on the end with a click , and closed in on her again.

“What are you doing?” she huffed as she wrestled with the sleeves of her jersey.

“Claiming what’s mine,” I teased as I pressed my pen against her shoulder. Years of practice meant I’d marked the back of the jersey with my name before she could balk.

I was stepping back when she went ramrod straight and fired visual daggers at me, her eyes sparking with anger. “I am not yours.”

“But your shirt is, Crabby.” Grinning, I clicked the pen again.

Her scowl deepened, and she spun, her arm brushing against my chest. An electric spark shot down my spine at the contact. For one second, I desperately wanted to touch her again. But looking into her amber eyes, I remembered exactly who she was. And I forced her back into the box labeled not allowed .

“Stop calling me that,” she snapped.

“Then lighten up.” I smirked.

“You don’t understand anything,” she huffed, fisting her hands at her sides. She tried to hide her pain, but she tamped down on the wince a moment too late. It was the third time I’d seen her do that.

“I want a sweatshirt,” Piper announced.

Thankful for the distraction from the fiery woman giving me a run for my money, I turned to the little girl.

She pointed at a blue shirt with a circular Revs logo. “That one.”

Dropping the pen back into its holder, I strode over to her. “This one?” I asked as I snagged the garment from where it hung high on a rack.

She nodded.

“Does it have a tag?” Harper, forgetting about my jersey, focused on Piper for a moment before scanning the store to check on her other child. Damn. This woman was more alert than any person I’d met, and that was saying a lot, since I played a professional sport. She was constantly waiting for one of her kids to explode. It must have been exhausting.

“No tag. No hood. It’s soft inside,” I assured Piper as I handed the shirt to her. She tilted her head and almost made eye contact, but rather than focusing on my face, she let her attention wander to the wall across the room. “Hey, guys,” I said, turning. “We’re done.”

“Yes!” Asher called, slamming his fist into the air. “To the field.” With that, he ran for the door.

“To infinity and beyond,” Grey yelled, fist in the air as he chased after his dad.

“Yes!” Sam cheered, taking off too.

“They are so cringe.” Clara, Asher’s eight-year-old, rolled her eyes.

Laughing, Zara wrapped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and dragged her out of the store. Harper watched them until they disappeared, the look on her face one I could have sworn was longing. But when she turned to her daughter, her expression was neutral.

“Come on, Piper.” She stepped up to the little girl, careful to keep several inches of space between them, and guided her from the room.

With a nod at the security guard who’d let us in, I followed them.

Although the group in front of us chattered as we moved through the stadium, voices high-pitched and echoing around the high ceilings and concrete walls, neither Harper nor Piper spoke a word. Each one was radiating anxiety so intense it thickened the air around us.

We’d hardly made it up to the dugout steps before Hannah was there.

She grinned, her eyes flashing. “I love that you’re in his jersey.”

Harper glanced down, eyes wide, like she was surprised to find that she still was sporting the pinstripes.

“Filming this is going to be perfect,” Hannah said. “Couldn’t have asked for a nicer fall day, either. Sixty and sunny? I’ll take it. Everyone is here.” She waved, pointing out Emerson and Gianna, who were standing with Mason, his girlfriend Rory, Avery, Christian, and Puff. The guys were all in uniform, and the girls were in street clothes—except Rory, who was wearing a Boston Bolts polo. She was probably headed over to the arena to work tonight’s Bolts game.

Mason caught as many home games as he could over there. In fact, he’d purchased a box, and I joined him as often as I could.

“Oh my gosh. Puff’s here.” Clara’s eyes lit up. She was too cool for most things lately, but she loved that bird.

Asher took off across the grass, headed straight for the puffin, with Clara and Grey on his heels. Sam glanced up at his mother, his lip caught between his teeth. When Harper gave him a small smile and nodded, he took off too. Piper, though, remained rooted to the spot as she took in the details of the field. I’d give her a minute to adjust.

I trotted out behind the others, giving my boys each a fist bump as I went, then bent down and held a hand out to Puff. With a squeak, he tapped his beak against my fist. It was still orange, though the color had begun to fade for winter.

“Want to dance, little man?” I asked, bobbing my head left and right.

Puff shook left and right and left again, making the three kids giggle.

With a finger in the air, I spun it, and Puff imitated the move, turning in a circle. When he stopped, he zeroed in on Avery and squawked.

In a way only someone who’d spent their days around animals could do, she dipped her bare hand into the small bucket and tossed a dead fish his way.

Puff caught it mid-leap.

Christian groaned. “Gloves, Blondie.”

Avery pinched her fishy fingers together like she was going to launch into the chicken dance and moved toward her fiancé.

Chris shuddered and took a big step back. The dude was a total germophobe. “I say this with enormous amounts of love.” He shook his head. “Don’t touch me until you wash away the fish guts.”

Laughing, Avery shuffled even closer.

I wasn’t big on the whole lovey-dovey thing, but it was hard to deny that they were adorable. Barf.

With a grunt, Christian took off at a full sprint.

“No fair,” Avery complained. “I’m nowhere close to as fast as you are.”

“I’ll get him for you, Av.” Mason chuckled and took off after his friend.

“Traitor.” Christian glared at him.

But now all three kids and Asher were running too.

Squawking, Puff fluttered into the air, then landed on the ground in front of Emerson and Gianna.

Emerson, our happy-go-lucky third baseman, bounced on his feet, a dopey smile pulling at his lips.

“Go.” Gi rolled her eyes at her fiancé. “I’ll watch the bird.”

Emerson shot forward, tripping over his own feet. He righted himself quickly, and then he was off. It only took a moment for him to catch up to the group. The guy was the fastest of all the Revs. Hell, he was one of the fastest players in the league.

“They are ridiculous.” Gianna shook her head as Puff pecked at the grass, inching closer to Rory.

Rory took a step away, her shoulders creeping up to her ears. For months, we’d been giving her crap about not liking Puff. So much so that she tried hard to hide her hesitation these days. I stepped between her and the bird, willing to be her shield. I had a favor to ask of her anyway. With my back to the chaos, I smiled.

“I swear he’s adorable. Cutest thing ever,” Rory promised, wide-eyed.

I chuckled. “We all know you like him better when he’s wearing a harness. But I need a favor.”

She pulled her long blond hair over her shoulder. “What’s up?”

Exhaling, I glanced at Harper. Neither she nor Piper had moved from the grass by the dugout, and I had yet to figure out why. I scanned our surroundings. The bright, warm sun, the earthy scent of dirt and grass, the murmur of voices. It was all subtle to me, but Piper was probably far more affected by it all, and she likely picked up on things I couldn’t even sense. I’d deal with her in a minute. Right now, her mother’s issue was more pressing.

“See the redhead?”

“With Zara?”

I nodded. “Her left palm is injured. It’s bruised pretty deeply, and she flinches when she moves her hand. Can you see if it needs an X-ray?”

She shrugged. “I’m not a hand expert.” Her work with the Bolts focused on the head and neck. “But I’ll look, and I can take her over to Langfield Corp if she needs one.” She studied Harper, her expression thoughtful. “She’s the one who caught the ball last night, right?”

I nodded.

“Does that mean she’s being adopted into our Revs family like Puff was when Chris hit him with a ball?” she teased.

Considering the situation, that hit a bit too close to the truth. “Something like that.”

Near the dugout, Piper pushed away from her mother, causing Harper to almost stumble. My heart lurched but settled quickly when Harper regained her balance. As the little girl took off down the third baseline just inside the grass, I strode over to Harper, leaving Rory without a word.

Hannah and Zara had stepped away, I assumed, to give Harper space to deal with Piper. I had no intention of doing the same. I stopped in front of her, blocking her view of her daughter and instantly earning a glare. She stepped to one side, as if to step around me, but I moved with her, keeping her in place.

“What do you want?” she demanded, peering around me at her daughter.

“What’s her issue?” I asked the scowling woman.

She batted forcefully at a strand of hair that blew into her face. “Nothing that you could understand.”

Jeez, what was her deal? Jaw locked, I fisted my hands at my sides. I was trying to help, and she’d been nothing but difficult since she’d arrived. If I was understanding correctly, Piper was out of sorts because of the grass or the sunlight. Maybe the dirt, the noise, or the bright colors of the stadium. Hell, maybe it was the way her sock felt against her ankle. If I could pinpoint the issue, I could help. Without the knowledge, I’d be left walking through a minefield.

Her only response was another glare.

Fine.

“Maybe ask about my background before you make assumptions about what I can and can’t understand.” With a huff, I stormed away from the damn woman.