30. MonroeRiggs

THIRTY

MONROE

"Oh, fuck off!" I yell at the television, clutching the remote tightly in an effort to channel my anger. The Fury are playing tonight in Atlanta, and Riggs is pitching. The umpire has been calling balls all night, even though he's hitting the strike zone almost every time. They're losing by six runs late in the fifth inning, so unless some kind of miracle happens, it's looking pretty bleak.

"Come on, Val," I say under my breath, sitting back down on the sofa as I shove my thumbnail between my teeth. It's practically down to the cuticle at this point, but it's been a rough game. I either bite my nails, or I heave this remote through the screen. This is a financial decision.

Ace gives the signal and Riggs shakes his head, clearly not liking the call. His catcher tries again, earning a nod right before he stands and winds up to fire the pitch. It's low and inside, but still a strike according to the white square I'm staring at, yet the umpire calls another ball, and the player walks. I can tell by the look on his face that Riggs is getting pissed. Apparently, so can Clyde, because before the next batter makes his way to the box, he's on his way to the mound. Ace hops up from behind home plate, joining the men as they speak quietly. Riggs shakes his head, his brows pulling inward as if he's about to argue before he rolls his eyes and heads to the dugout. The camera follows him as he flings his glove into the brick wall before throwing himself down onto the bench. The crowd above him cheers at his misfortune, and I wish I was there so I could nut punch every single one of them.

I knew I should've flown there when he offered for me to come along. I had a video call with a potential client earlier today, and I thought I'd feel more confident if I were in my own space rather than in a strange hotel room. Looking back, I wish I were there, because I'm sure he's not going to take it easy on himself after this one. It's not his fault, but I know he'll take the loss as his own, and it'll eat away at him.

I turn off the TV and make my way upstairs to take a shower. It doesn't take long, so I go through a full skin care routine before falling into bed and waiting what feels like hours for my phone to ring. I'm in the middle of editing my last how-to video when it vibrates next to me, a photo of Riggs planting a messy kiss on my cheek while I scrunch my face in fake disgust filling the screen. I slam my laptop shut, tossing it onto the mattress and answering the FaceTime call.

"Hey," I say, giving him my best sympathetic smile because I'm sure he's not in the best mood.

"Hey, baby," he replies solemnly. "How's my sweet girl?"

I get comfortable, settling myself back onto the pillow as I pull the comforter up over my chest. We've made it our post-away game ritual to talk until we fall asleep. I miss him so much, but this is his job for a lot of the year, so I'm getting used to not feeling the heat of his body beside me at night.

"I'm good," I say, a small smile tipping up the corner of my mouth. I feel like an asshole for wanting to celebrate, but I know he'd be pissed if I didn't tell him about my day. "I got the account."

"I knew it!" He says triumphantly, an ear-to-ear grin blooming across his face. "Congratulations, Mayhem!"

I laugh, not knowing why I expected anything less than this reaction out of him. Even though they just lost and he didn't pitch his best, he's setting that aside to experience this big moment in my life.

"Thank you," I reply. "The instructional videos were a huge hit, and the shop owner said she's already seeing an improvement in her online sales now that she's getting social media engagement. I convinced her to sign up for three months of consulting, and hopefully, we can make an even bigger impact on her business in that time." I pause, tears of joy filling my eyes. " I fucking did it. "

"I never doubted you for a second, my little badass." The look on his face is full of pride, and it makes me feel so good knowing that I'm not letting him down. I know that his investment in me was a part of the hook to get me down here, but that doesn't change the fact that I want to succeed for both of us. I'm just grateful that things are moving in such a positive direction.

I yawn, giving him a tired smile as I pull the pillow from his side of the bed toward me, propping the phone against it. It smells like him, and if I close my eyes and listen to his breathing, it almost feels like he's here .

"You tired, sweet thing?" he asks, and I nod my head in response. He mirrors me, lying on the opposite side and propping his phone up on what would be my pillow if I were there, taking a deep inhale and letting his eyes fall closed.

"Good night, baby," he whispers. "I love you."

"I love you too." The words are barely out of my mouth before I'm drifting off, almost able to feel his protective arms wrapped around me as I fall asleep alone in our bed.

I wake abruptly, the alarm on my phone blaring in my ear. Normally, when Riggs and I fall asleep together, neither of us hangs up until our batteries die in the middle of the night. His must have gone first this time, because mine is still above twenty-five percent.

I sit up, trying to get my wits about me as I reach over and kill the loud noise. It takes me a minute to remember that Taylor asked me to meet with her this morning before she has to be at work. Apparently, she's butting heads with some people on their marketing team about something, and she wants to pick my brain since Riggs told her all about my new business. I agreed because she's been so kind to me since I moved to Daytona, and I truly want to help if I can.

Deciding to do the bare minimum today, I throw on a pair of cotton shorts and a baby tee, with all my tattoos on full display, and finish the outfit with my brand-new white sneakers. I pile my hair up on top of my head in a messy bun and brush some tinted moisturizer over my face to cover the subtle dark circles I always get when Riggs is out of town. I can't even deny the fact that I sleep a million times better when he's home. It's quite the change from living by myself and doing everything I could to keep my distance from him.

I chuckle at the sentiment, heading down the stairs and toward the kitchen to grab my wallet and keys. We're meeting at a café, so I skip breakfast in lieu of the large macchiato I plan on having when I get there.

I make my way down to the lobby with every intention of having the valet pull my car around, but when I see what a gorgeous day it is already, I decide to walk the four blocks. Pushing through the door, I'm thankful that the humidity is low and there's a slight breeze.

I turn toward the café, taking in the sights around me. I haven't really spent much time getting to know the city, but now that I am, it really is a beautiful place.

Riggs and I haven't discussed what the future looks like, but I'm starting to think that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stay here. I love Hope Harbor, yet the thought of leaving him to go back there twists my stomach into knots.

Maybe I should call a realtor to see if it would be worth selling my house. It's bittersweet because I worked so hard to buy it on my own, but I really want to put in the effort for this relationship. Riggs shows me every day that he's all in, and making a commitment to move down here would show him that I am too .

I wait for the feelings of unease to settle in as I consider packing my entire life and starting over yet again, but this time, they never come. I don't even have to wonder why that is. Last time, I was running from something. This time, I'm running to it.

I smile at the thought, putting a little extra pep in my step as I approach the café entrance and go inside. I spot Taylor immediately, raising a finger in the air as if to say I'll be right there , before heading to the counter to order my macchiato along with a glazed doughnut, because I walked all this way and now I deserve some extra carbs. Waiting at the counter, I stuff a twenty-dollar bill into the tip jar before taking my breakfast and joining Taylor at her table.

"Thanks for coming," she says cheerfully. "I know it's early."

I shrug. "I had to be up anyway. It's nice to get a jump on the day."

She takes a sip of her coffee as I get settled, waiting until I've taken the first bite of my doughnut before she breaks the silence. "Okay, so here's the deal. The fans seem to have forgiven Riggs for the most part, but his jersey sales are still at an all-time low. He's usually one of our best-sellers, but right now, we can't seem to move them at all. The marketing department is claiming that it's not a PR issue, but I feel like it is. That's why I asked you to meet me. I was hoping that you might be able to come up with some ideas on how we can get him back into the fans' good graces, because apparently, pitching well and winning games isn't enough. Short of letting Friggle beat the shit out of him on the field, I feel like there's not much that'll make them happy, you know? "

I make sure she's finished, pursing my lips in thought while I go over everything she said. I've been to several home games, and I've noticed that people don't cheer for Riggs until he starts striking batters out. There's little excitement when he's warming up, unlike there is for every other pitcher in the rotation.

The solution hits me like a freight train, and I try to work out the details before I say it all out loud. "We need to convince the fans that the two of them have buried the hatchet. Riggs made a public apology for his outburst, but he never went out of his way to say he was sorry to Friggle. That's setting a bad example for the younger kids, and their parents aren't going to support him by buying his jersey."

She tilts her head, and by the look on her face, she agrees with what I'm saying. "Alright, so what do you suggest?"

"Well," I begin, "I think the best thing would be to choose an upcoming home game and make a whole event out of it. You could brand it as Friendship Day and offer a two-for-the-price-of-one deal on tickets for kids, encouraging them to bring a friend. I'm sure there are sponsors who would gladly pay to have their logo put on friendship bracelets that you could hand out at the gates. Friggle could throw the first pitch to Riggs, and they could exchange bracelets in front of the whole stadium."

Her jaw is slack as she stares at me, blinking rapidly for several seconds. "Holy shit, he was right," she whispers. "You are a genius."

Warmth washes over me at her words, and a wide grin blooms across my face. Knowing that Riggs is out there telling everyone who will listen how amazing he thinks I am still gives me butterflies, even though he's told me himself a hundred times.

"Sometimes you just have to think outside the box," I reply.

Her shoulders slump slightly as she lets out a forced exhale. "But how am I going to convince the marketing department that this'll work? They're all old and set in their ways. They've been using the same strategies for the last thirty years, and they aren't always open to new ideas."

I smirk, lifting a brow. "I have a motto, Taylor. Sin now, ask for forgiveness later . How can they say no if you've already gone out and secured a massive sponsorship for the event?"

She barks a laugh, shaking her head at me in disbelief. "If they fire me for this, I'm telling them it was all your idea."

"Well," I say, popping a shoulder. "If it works like I think it will, the last thing they'll want to do is fire you. They might even put up a statue in your honor in front of the stadium."

"Let's not go off the rails here, Monroe," she replies with a sincere smile. "Thank you. Riggs is lucky to have you. We all are."

I sip my drink, thankful that I've been accepted into the Fury family—first by Mr. Durst, and now by Taylor. I feel welcome in a way I've never experienced before, and the thought of her coming to me for help with something so important just solidifies the fact that I made the right choice by coming to Daytona.

All my life, all I've ever wanted was to make my own path. Leaving California was just the first step in creating the future I had always dreamed of. If I decide to leave Hope Harbor, a piece of me will always be there. That little beach town was the beginning of my rebirth, and I'm thankful for the safe place it provided while I figured out who I really was.

If you would've told me three months ago that Riggs Valentine would be a puzzle piece in my story, I'd have never believed you. But here I am, actually considering putting down roots in this city because I've never felt more empowered than I do with him by my side.

We finish our breakfast, and Taylor heads off toward the stadium for what I assume will be a long day of pitching the idea of Friendship Day to all the major Fury sponsors. I'm excited to see what they come up with, and I'm ready for the fans to finally see what a kind, funny and talented player they've been blessed with in Riggs.

Now, I just have to find a way to convince him to go along with my crazy plan.

RIGGS

"Listen to me carefully, Mayhem," I grit out. "There's no fucking way I'm doing anything with that long-armed dildo. I'd rather take a cleat to the nuts than trade friendship bracelets with him. As a matter of fact, he should be apologizing to me . I only reacted to him booing me in front of everyone."

She sticks her bottom lip out, pouting. "Are you sure?" she coos, sliding her center over my hardening erection. Just minutes ago, I was lying on the couch, minding my business while watching game highlights. Next thing I knew, she was straddling me and asking me to make a fool out of myself in front of tens of thousands of fans. "There isn't anything I could do to convince you?" She reaches up and palms her braless tits through her tight white tank top, pinching her nipples as she moans. I close my eyes, losing myself in the hot friction that's being created between us, almost forgetting what she asked as I grip her hips and help her grind against me.

"You're a fucking she-devil, you know that? You're preying on a weak, innocent man here. How do you even sleep at night?"

"Usually full of your cum," she replies, winking down at me.

She's gonna pay for that one.

"Fine," I growl, thrusting my hips upward. "I'll do it. But if he tries to hug me, he's getting knocked the fuck out again."

She stills her movements, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to my mouth before hopping off of me. "Thank you!" she sing-songs as she walks away, leaving me gaping like a fish with my rock-hard cock staring up at me.

"What the fuck just happened?" I mumble to myself, throwing an arm over my eyes in frustration.

She really is a she-devil. But she's mine .

Minutes later, she comes back into the room, flopping down onto the sofa next to where I'm still attempting to make my dick deflate. "I texted Taylor and told her you were happy to participate in the event. The Children's Hospital has agreed to sponsor it, so they'll be donating the bracelets and picking up the tab for all the free tickets the Fury will be giving away. The marketing department wasn't happy with her for going above their heads, but Mr. Durst loved the idea, so they had no choice but to go along with it."

As much as I don't want to do this, the girls are right. My fans have not been nearly as enthusiastic as usual, and although I haven't allowed it to affect my pitching, it still doesn't feel good knowing they have negative feelings toward me. Even though I'm known as the Bad Boy of Baseball, I've always made sure to connect with the people who fill our stands at every game. I think that persona mainly came from my wild dating life and hot temper.

But all of that has changed now that Monroe is here. The things I used to think were important no longer matter, and I'm happy to trade my old life for this new one with her. My days of partying and acting like a fuck-up are over. I just want to be the man that my girl and my team deserve. If that means playing nice with the team mascot—even though he's the creepiest thing I've ever seen—so be it.

I'd do anything for her.