Page 109 of Third Strike Smitten

I’ve gotten pretty good at it.

Isla hasn’t said it yet. Not out loud, not in those three specific words that would make my entire world see in full color. But she doesn’t have to. I see it in the way she presses her cheek against my chest when she thinks I’m asleep. I hear it in the way her voice goes soft and private when she calls me Kill instead of Killian. I feel it every single time she reaches for my hand without looking, like her body has memorized the geography of mine and can find it in the dark.

She loves me. I know she does.

And I’m okay with waiting. I’ll wait until the seasons change and change again if that’s what it takes, because for me, Isla Fallon isn’t a stop on the way to somewhere else. She’s it for me. She’s the destination. She’s the whole goddamn map.

The mere thought of a forever with Isla sits warm and solid in my soul as I toss another burger on the grill, the late August sun casting long shadows across Shepherd and Sutton’s backyard. The team’s been on a tear lately—six wins in our last eight games—and with playoffs just a few weeks away, the energy around the clubhouse has shifted from hopeful to hungry. The kind of hungry that makes you wake up at 4 AM thinking about the next pitch, the next inning, the next game.

“Hey Kill! That better be medium rare or I’m sending it back!” Bishop calls from the patio where he’s holding court with half the bullpen, a beer in one hand and a bag of chips in the other.

I flip the patty with practiced precision. “It’s mooing at me as we speak, bro. Besides, you’ll eat it however it comes, or you’ll starve.”

The team erupts in laughter as Bishop clutches his heart in mock offense. I catch Isla’s eye across the yard where she’s helping Sutton arrange platters of corn on the cob and potato salad. Mackenzie whipped up some baked beans and a fruit salad, and the moment she pops out to the yard with her dishes in hand, Bishop is on his feet all too willing to help.

“Here, let me get that for you,” Bishop says, practically tripping over himself to take the tray from Mackenzie’s hands. “You shouldn’t be carrying all this heavy stuff.”

Mackenzie raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at her lips. “It’s a fruit salad, Bishop. I think I can handle it.”

“Oh, I know you can handle it,” he replies with a wink that makes half the team groan. “But why should you when I’m here?”

I shake my head, turning back to the grill. My brother’s been ogling Mackenzie since she arrived, and while I’m not sure if it’s genuine interest or just Bishop being Bishop, it’s entertaining as hell to watch.

“Your brother’s got it bad,” Sutton says, sidling up next to me with another plate of burgers ready for cooking. “Has he always been this obvious?”

I laugh, flipping another patty. “I don’t know if you know this about us, Sutton, but apparently subtlety isn’t exactly in the Haynes DNA.”

She laughs. “You don’t say.” She nods toward where Isla is now laughing with the guys. “She say it yet?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

“You okay with that?”

“I have to be.” I shrug, keeping my focus on the grill. “I know it’s in there. I see it. I feel it. I hear it when she talks. She’s worth waiting for, so I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

Sutton leans against the railing next to me, her gaze following mine to where Isla is now doubled over laughing at something Sebastian just said. “You really love her, don’t you?”

I glance at Isla again, watching the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, the way her whole face lights up when she smiles. “She’s the one, Sutton.”

“I believe you,” Sutton says softly. “Just promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t let her go without a fight. If she tries to leave because she’s scared, you fight for her.”

The words hit me harder than they should because there’s a lot of truth to what Sutton just said.

“I won’t,” I promise, though the thought of Isla leaving steals my breath. “I can’t.”

I do think Isla is scared. For as happy and carefree as she is on the outside, I think she battles an unspoken fear and has for the last several years. The fear of losing everything and everyone she loves. But I won’t leave her. I’ll never leave her. I love her too much.

Shepherd appears beside us, sliding an arm around Sutton’s waist. “What are you two conspiring about over here?”

“Just telling Killian how obvious his brother is being,” Sutton says, nodding toward Bishop, who’s now helping Mackenzie arrange napkins with an enthusiasm that’s almost comical.

Shepherd laughs. “Bishop? Subtle? Those two words have never been in the same sentence. And speaking of obvious,” he says, nodding toward where Isla is standing with the team. Even from here, I can see the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs. “She’s fitting in pretty well, huh?”

“Better than I could have hoped,” I admit. “The team loves her.”