Chapter Thirteen

Aiden

“ W here’s your head at, Price? A little light conditioning looks like it might kill you.” My pain-in-the-ass first baseman, Pete Matthews, goads me. This month, our infielders are meeting a few times a week for off-season training, and I’m relieved with the reprieve from our hectic schedule.

“Yeah, you tired, old man? Past your nap time already?” Roman chimes in like the smart-ass he is.

“Not you, too, Rivera. Talking an awful lot of shit for a guy only two years younger than me,” I snap back. Roman Rivera, the best shortstop in the league and one of the first to welcome me when I was traded, scoffs in response as he cycles through his set.

“You may only be two years older, but you’re acting a fuck of a lot older than that. Come out with us tonight. You haven’t made it out since the season ended. Maybe find someone in town to help you relax. I’m sure someone would love to give the new guy a shot.” Roman winks at me.

He means well, and yeah, I might have turned down a few offers to go out to a bar with the guys after our season wrapped. Unfortunately, I have no desire to meet anyone when I can’t stop thinking about Bec .

“Nah, man. I’m not looking to dive into anything new right now.” It’s not like I’m not trying. But every time I think I’ve cleared Bec from my mind, I’ll come across something so small that my brain works in overdrive, making a million tiny thought connections that I don’t even fully register, until her face pops up crystal clear in my mind. The other day, I was eating cereal in my kitchen and before I knew it, I was down the weirdest rabbit hole in my mind and imagining Bec naked and bent over my kitchen counter, gripping the edge, moaning while I…

“Jesus, Price, you don’t have to marry the next girl you sleep with, just get out there,” Pete pipes in, wiping his forehead with a towel. “Get in and get out.”

“Aw, now that’s just sad.” Roman grabs him in a headlock, ruffling his hair. “Who hurt you, Petey?”

I may have joined the team midseason, but Pete and Roman were quick to offer their help to get me up to speed. So, while they both love to give me a hard time, I’m grateful to share the infield with them. They made the transition easier than I expected it to be.

It helps that we’ve gotten to know each other outside the game too. We met up a couple times to grab a few beers after our away games while we were on the road. I even shared a bit about the situation with Mom. It’s not something I talk about often, especially since I don’t want my family’s personal business to end up in any headlines. The media is always clawing for personal stories to drum up interest.

But things are easier when my team is aware of what’s going on, in case something ever comes up unexpectedly. Like today, when Evie texts me, asking me to call her as soon as possible.

Not lifting my eyes off my phone, I mumble to Matthews and Rivera, “I need to get in touch with my sister. Be right back.” I give a heads-up to the assistant coach and step into the empty hallway, dialing Evie’s number without hesitation .

“Hey, big brother, what’s up?”

“What do you mean, what’s up? Evie, you asked me to call ASAP. What’s going on?” Irritation flows through me like a tidal wave, audibly lacing my every word. She knows I always assume the worst, and when she sends me a text like that, I inevitably anticipate getting bad news. I can’t avoid the way it kicks my protectiveness into overdrive.

Why does anyone communicate like that anyway? Getting a call me as soon as you can text might as well mean pause everything you’re doing and prepare for emotional trauma . If everyone is safe and healthy, those types of texts should be illegal.

“Woah…chill, bud. Just throwing out a casual greeting. You know, like humans do from time to time? I can hear you’re clearly not in the mood, so let me just add that Mom and I are fine. Relax before you get all worked up. The staff from the assisted living facility called me this morning and gave me an update. I thought I’d keep you in the loop.”

My entire body relaxes and guilt ebbs at me. Evie doesn’t deserve my attitude, but after everything, I can’t keep the stress out of my voice. I’m usually better at masking it. Keeping my communication calm. Listening first, acting second. The stress of the last few months is catching up to me.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Evie. Thanks for calling, what’d they say?”

“Well, they’re starting to notice her symptoms worsening. Nothing too concerning. Nothing they can’t help her manage for now, but they wanted to make sure we were aware. They don’t think she’s there yet, but they suggested we consider what we want her living situation to look like in the next few months, because they anticipate she’ll need a higher level of care.” I can hear the unease in her tone.

“How was she the last time you saw her?” I run my fingers through my hair in frustration, trying to remember the last time I was able to visit Mom. I make a mental note to look at my calendar when I get home to see when I can make the trip to Detroit in between conditioning sessions.

“I drove up there two weeks ago and have been FaceTiming with her every day. She seems like her normal self, though come to think of it, she may have been repeating her questions a bit more often than usual. But you know, it’s hard to tell if it’s happening consistently when she’s so far away,” Evie replies, the regret in her voice heavy and unmistakable.

“Yeah, it would be better to have her closer to us. I know we talked a lot about the location change in June when I was traded, weighed the pros and cons. Want to catch up this weekend and we can regroup, maybe look up a few local places to check out, like they mentioned?”

“Way ahead of you. I emailed you a list of places to get us started. I found a few online, plus a few of the other graduate students from my program were able to recommend several reputable places. Wanna grab coffee on Saturday at the corner spot? We can go through the list and come up with a game plan.”

“Sounds great, except Hopper and I have our puppy training class. Want to meet for lunch afterward instead?” I ask.

“This wouldn’t happen to be the same class taught by the stunning brunette from that cute restaurant last Friday? God, she ran faster than I’ve ever seen you manage in all of your time as a professional athlete.” I ignore her dig, picturing the shit-eating grin that I know is on her face right now. It’s always accompanied by a dramatically raised eyebrow, shooting sky high on her forehead. The way she used to practice that single eyebrow raise when we were younger used to drive me nuts, but the way she can practically reach her hairline with that look is signature Evie. I don’t even question it anymore. Under the right circumstances, that look would have you assuming she can see straight through any bullshit you throw at her. Which is why I go with honesty; she’ll make it worse if I try to hide anything .

“Yes, Evie. Bec is the teacher. Happy?”

“Ah, dear brother. The question is, are you happy? Because the way you absolutely sank into your sad little booth, picking at your dinner after she bolted, makes me think that we’re looking at a classic case of unrequited love. What’d you do to piss her off, dummy?”

That’s just it. I have no fucking clue with Bec. I never know if what I say to her makes her want to avoid me, befriend me, or if she couldn’t care less. I can’t get a read on her to save my life. I know the chemistry I felt for her hasn’t faded. If anything, being around her again has only intensified what I felt when we met. Despite the confusion I feel about what’s on her mind, I find myself counting down the days until I can see her again.

I lean against the wall, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “Nothing, Eves. Shit. There’s nothing going on between Bec and I.” Unfortunately . “We’re just friends.”

“Uh-huh, and whose idea was that? I’m guessing not yours. A little salty over there?”

I fall silent, not quite sure what to say.

“Hey…Aiden,” her tone softens, picking up on my hesitation. “You really like her? Fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to push…”

“No, really, it’s fine. I don’t know her that well. It’s just…”

“But you want to, don’t you?”

I sigh. “I don’t know, but she’s made it clear that friendship is all she’s looking for.” There’s a lull and I know Evie is about to hit me in the gut. I can practically hear her contemplating her next words. Growing up in our house, all we had was each other and Mom. There were no secrets. Not after everything we went through. Evie knows me well. Which makes it easier for me. She can read me without me having to put what’s in my head into words. That’s why I wait, preparing for her to hit home with her always on point intuition.

“You know, Aiden, you could try being honest with her. Telling her that you want something more. See where it goes? You won’t know unless you put yourself out there and say what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. She might want the same thing. You deserve to be with someone that makes you happy. That takes care of you like you take care of the people you care about. It’s okay to let other people see you, you know. There’s nothing to hide.”

“Yeah, thanks, Eves. I’ll think about it. Don’t worry about me,” I say, even though I’m not sure I agree with her.