Page 78 of Hiding in the Outfield

“Can you imagine that happening?” I whisper. “Can you imagine being disowned by the very people who are supposed to protect and love you in this world? From the little I’ve gathered, that’s what Jackson faces back home.”

Paulie wraps his arm around me and tucks me to his side. I rest my head on his shoulder, and he drops his nose to my hair. “You’re an awesome person, big bro.”

“You kind of suck, little bro.”

He chuckles, and it tickles over my scalp.

“I just worry, is all. Jackson is closeted, even if he’s not here. I’m afraid you’re forgetting that. And he might not be like that asshole you work with, but—fuck. I just don’t see this ending well. You can say it means nothing all you want, but I know you, Chessie. There is no way you walk out of this without a broken heart. And Jackson? He’s headed for the big time. We all know what that means. East and Maddy. Shane and Jed. It means hiding, something you have never had to do, and I don’t want to see you forced to do. It means long-distance, maybe very long-distance. Late nights, scattered texts, short phone calls…”

I harrumph. “Yes, you’re painting a really beautiful picture. I get it. But one, that is not me and Jackson. That is not the plan. And two, and this is a very big two: are you saying you doubt you and Shelbs? Are you saying it’s not worth it? That you wouldn’t do anything to be with her?”

“Of course not,” he rushes out. “But do I wish I could glue her to my side and be with her every hour of every day? Yeah. I miss her all the time, Chessie. All the fucking time. I’d fucking strap that woman to my back and catch with her right there behind the plate. It’s really hard. And yes, it’s worth it. Because I love Shelbs so goddamned much. But I also realize that life isn’t something every person wants.”

“All right. Well, if it ever comes to that, I’ll re-evaluate and see what I’m willing to accept. How’s that?”

He growls and knocks his head softly against mine. “You’re setting yourself up for a broken heart. I see it happening. And I hate it.”

“But if that happens, I’m going into it with eyes wide-open.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “He’s not Nick, Pao Pao.”

“No, he’s not. And that’s why I’m worried.”

I would never admit this to Paulie.

But it makes me a little bit worried too.

Jackson and the guys leave for a two-week road trip soon. Plenty of time to reinforce my walls.

TWENTY-SEVEN

FRANKIE

I walk down the outer hall of our San Francisco office, gaze scanning the tables filling the open space as I look for a familiar face. It lands on a pair of turquoise eyes, and my face splits in a grin. A woman with a short dark bob jumps from her seat. Genevieve.

“Babe!” I hurry toward her.

“Girl!” She flings herself at me and busses me on each cheek. Then she steps back and surveys me. Her turquoise gaze sharpens. “Who are you fucking?”

I zip my lips.

She gasps. “Girl.”

I chuckle. “Drinks tonight. I’ll fill you in.”

Her finger dusts over my cheek. “Pretty as ever. Are you all healed?”

“All healed.”

“I still can’t believe you got into a bar fight. I honestly can’t picture it.” She drags me over to the spot she saved for me—with the open floor seating they have now, it’s first come, first serve, which can really blow if you’re held up.

“What, you think I’m a doormat?”

Her blue eyes glimmer as she laughs. “No, babe. I just pictured you more stabby than punchy.”

“Eh, I can go either way. Some things require claws; some things require fists.” And I really wish I’d landed a fist in that jackass’s face. “Also, I’m loving the new eye color, Gen.”

She shrugs a bare shoulder. She’s in a tight, sleeveless black silk top with high-waisted wide-leg dress pants, and a killer gold-buckle belt. “I wanted something different,” she says, back to tapping away at her keyboard, attention on her screen. “I got bored with violet.”

I get my laptop plugged in and wait for it to boot up.