Page 56 of Challenge Me

Before his first pitch, Trav glanced at Roman. There was a barely restrained smile on his face as he ducked his head. My mouth dropped open when the ball crossed the plate, faster than I could track. I couldn’t imagine getting struck with that damn missile. There was no way I’d be able to hit it, that was for sure.

I reread the message Amir had sent me earlier. Avery didn’t know about the ruse, and I was supposed to refrain from saying anything stupid. That was sort of offensive, but if I was in his shoes, I’d feel the same.

“So, I hear you have a bar,” Avery said, breaking our long silence.

I turned partially to face her and smiled. “I sure do. It’s called Remi’s.”

“How’d you come up with that?”

I couldn’t tell if she was being funny or snide. Her icy blue eyes were oddly intimidating, and even though she appeared polite, it was hard to know what she was really thinking. Maybe she resented my existence. It had been a little while since the divorce, but that didn’t mean things were peachy. These two had been high school sweethearts, each other’s one and only. It was a lovely but wild concept to me, especially given the context.

“I Googled ‘best names for a bar’ and went with the number one listing,” I replied.

Her lips curved, but her eyes remained the same. “At least it’s easy to remember.”

“Yeah, I only forget my name if I sample too much of the debaucherous liquid.”

“Is that what happened when you were photographed with Amir?”

Her question amused me more than anything. I wasn’t an expert at reading people, but I could detect hostility from a mile away. And that wasn’t what I heard in Avery’s voice.

Her probing wasn’t undercut by a sinister grace like Clara or the lineup of foster parents in my past or the various social workers I’d run through. Most of them gave up at a certain point when they realized the system was hopeless—rigged, even. Then there were the ones who truly had never given a damn but enjoyed the power dynamics.

If I were to give her the benefit of the doubt, I’d say that Avery was just a wife who had been caught off guard and lost her husband a year and a half ago. She was a mother who was probably still adjusting to whatever dynamic she had with her broken family. And I was the guy she’d heard about in one of the worst ways only a few weeks ago. Until I knew more, I’d give her a little grace. On the house.

“I’ve been completely sober every time I’m with Amir,” I said seriously. “Otherwise, I’d likely miss something important.”

“Like what?”

“One of those dad jokes he’s never actually blessed me with. Does he have them?”

Avery bit her bottom lip as she watched the players trading places on the field. “He makes a few, but he’s really not the sappy type. Amir prefers to be pretty laid back, as long as baseball isn’t involved. As you know, of course.”

“Of course. Although, sometimes he just needs a little push in order to get him going. Calling him boring, for instance.”

A small laugh escaped her, delicate and probably lovely to those looking for such things. “I would never call him boring.”

“I did.” When she lifted a brow, I laughed. “He’s fun to tease.”

She hummed, though I wasn’t sure if it was acknowledgement or agreement. It didn’t appear that she’d expand on it, either, so I turned my attention to Roman and Mal. He went back and forth between watching the game and drawing. It made me wonder if he did anything else with his life when Trav wasn’t around. Maybe even when he was around. I understood having a passion, but damn, I’d burn myself out the way he was going.

Feeling eyes on me, I shifted my gaze to his right, but Mal was staring at the field. We were halfway through the inning, and Amir was guarding third. It was cute the way he was completely focused, even as his family and his fake boyfriend—who had given him a very real public hand job—experienced an awkward collision up here.

As I stared at him, shifting his weight back and forth patiently, my mind returned to that locker room. For a moment, I’d had him in my pocket. Then, he’d flipped it around without taking a moment to breathe.

That date was unlikely to happen now. I may have traded one nightmare for another, but I actually preferred this one.

“Mal,” Avery said. “Let’s go to the restroom before Dad’s team bats again.”

“I don’t need to,” Mal replied.

“Well . . .” Avery looked from her daughter to the stairs, but Mal wasn’t paying attention to her.

“She can stay here,” I offered. When it was clear she didn’t like that idea, I glanced at Roman.

He smiled warmly at her. “Don’t worry. We’re not moving a muscle.”

“And there are many of them to move,” I added. The joke didn’t land, and I followed it up with an awkward laugh.