Page 38 of Under Pressure

“Don’t give him a hard time, Rena. Our knees are creakier now than they used to be,” Dad tells her, and even from the distance between us and the distortion of the speaker, I can hear the teasing grin in every word.

“Did you just call me old?”

“No, I called usbothold—ow!”

I shake my head, eyeing the café from across the street while I say, “You asked for that one, Dad.”

“Where’s your sense of loyalty?” he guffaws.

Mom squeaks. “Toyou? What about the woman who grew him in her womb for nine months? His loyalty is exactly where it should be. That’s my boy. I knew I raised you right.”

“You’re despicable,” Dad scolds, but his tone is far too soft.

The twinge in my shoulder keeps my mind from swaying as I linger beside a fire hydrant, hitching a foot against it. My parents have always been the epitome of a loving marriage. I grew up watching my dad sweep my mom onto her feet during the credits of every family movie so they could dance together, andeventually getting brought up myself. He bought her fresh flowers every Saturday morning and took her out for a date every second Wednesday night for wings at their favourite place.

Mom worked longer hours than he did, and he showed her how much he appreciated being given the opportunity to spend more time at home with me. Unlike most of my teammates’ parents, it was he who drove carpool to practice and handled the snacks. Once I got older, he volunteered to chaperone every away game and wore the Baseball Dad shirt I got him for Father’s Day with utter pride whenever he could.

And whenever he wasn’t busy with me, he was with her.

I have never taken my family for granted. Not when I was a little shit of a kid mouthing off for no good reason or now that I’m a grown man who can recognize just how much they both sacrificed for me.

“I upgraded your seats, and I won’t hear any complaints, Ma. Alright? You’re sitting behind the bullpen, and if I find out you’ve handed those seats off to someone else and bought another set, I’m going to be pretty cheesed,” I say, steering the conversation back to the point.

Mom chuffs. “It was a waste of money, Beckett.”

“It really wasn’t. You’re the one who refuses to let me use my discount to buy you season ones. We’d both be saving money that way. So, really, this is your fault.”

“He’s got a point, sunshine,” Dad murmurs.

“And now I’m going to enjoy these tickets with Paula and not your old, grumpy ass. I’ll make sure to eat a hot dog in your honour.”

I snort roughly. “Shit, Dad. Now look what you did. Not even a ball dog?”

“You’re grounded!” he barks, making me laugh into the street.

“I’m about fifteen years too old for that, but I’ll let it go because you just got a swift kick to the ass. Have fun with that, guys. Love you.”

I hang up before either of them can reply. My grin lingers as I stand here, staring at the quiet coffee shop. The sun is behind the top level of the building, not as bright or warm as it was when I left the stadium. Traffic was an absolute dick, so I’m already later than I was hoping.

Quinn reassured me twice that she’d be here tonight, but there’s still a wiggle of doubt in the back of my mind, especially after she took off on me last time. I parked down the block, hoping to earn bonus points for listening. I’m nervous enough as it is. Our conversations have been slim to none after that first night, and I already know that was on purpose.

I’d have called her every night after I got back to the hotel, but that . . . I think she would have blocked me if I’d tried.

Dropping my foot, I stretch out my neck. I won’t let myself avoid going in any longer. If she lied, then maybe Kellan had a point, even if that could very well send me spiralling. I’m not the crushing type of guy. I never have been, and I didn’t expect to see myself here at this point in my life.

I had myself convinced that I’d hold off on the whole settling-down thing until I hit thirty and became more grounded. It’s already hard to keep up with the younger guys on the team who can pound back shots the night before a game and show up for practice the next morning looking like they shit rainbows and exhale butterflies.

Sleeping with women who have no desire for anything serious and don’t expect me to grab their numbers for a repeat was working just fine with me. It was just something that became the norm. Ritual, almost.Expected.

That’s all stopped. Now, I’m struggling with how to handle this new desire formore. It doesn’t help worth a shit that the woman who has thrust me off balance couldn’t care less.

I tug on the door, but it won’t open. Trying again, I realize it’s locked, and the sign now reads Closed. It’s the first time I’ve been denied access to Blank Page. Discomfort leaches throughme, and I shove a hand into my pocket, needing to grab my phone and call?—

The lock clicks.

I snap my eyes back up and fix them on the blue-grey ones staring at me through the glass. The quirk of her brow tells me I look as frazzled as I feel. Quinn pushes on the door, and I take a quick step back to give her the room to open it for me.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were here,” she says, completely oblivious to my inner turmoil.