Page 68 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“You fucking the trainer now, Wylder?” Santiago baits Easton, his name a marred sneer loaded with disdain. “A little locker room lovin’?”

Easton lunges at Santiago, the empty glasses on the table crashing to the ground as Penski uses all his strength to keep them separated. “You fucking bastard!” Easton grits out.

“You got that right, pretty boy,” Santiago taunts, his chuckle grating over my nerves.

“Are cheap shots the only thing you’re good for?”

“You’d know, wouldn’t you? Too bad your lady was planning on going home with me.”

“Bullshit!” I shout in the confusion that’s now causing a crowd to form.

“Shut him the fuck up!” Penski barks to Cameron as he lifts his chin to Tino and Drew, silently asking them to get Easton the hell out of here, because it seems Santiago is going to keep provoking until he gets just what he wants.

In seconds, Drew and Tino have flanked Easton and are forcibly pushing him toward the door. There’s a mass of chaos and confusion swirling around me, but it’s the look on Easton’s face when he meets my gaze before he’s shoved out the door—the look that says, “What the fuck, Scout?”—that sticks with me more than anything.

“We’ll get him home,” J.P. says before looking at me and shaking his head in disapproval. “Not the brightest of moves, Scout.”

With that reprimand, J.P. walks away, leaving me standing in the middle of Sluggers with the man I want more than anyone being escorted out one side of the bar, and the man I despise for his nasty demeanor and the stunt he just pulled being shoved out the other door.

I sink back down into my chair, the remaining shots of tequila looking damn tempting. But they’re not the answer.

“I’m sorry.” Cameron’s voice is behind me, resigned and apologetic as he scoots into the seat next to me. “Not exactly how we’d planned to remember Ford tonight.”

I glance his way, at my brother’s best friend and college teammate, and know he misses Ford just as much as I do. That this annual ritual means as much to him as it does me. And that neither of us will go back on the promise we’ve made my dad to always celebrate Ford’s birthday to ensure his memory stays alive.

But how would we ever forget the boy with the goofy grin, obnoxious laugh, and heart as big as the ocean?

“I know,” I sigh. “The timing was perfect though. How the three of us were in the same city, the same time, on his birthday. Besides, Ford always liked a good fight so . . .”

“We should have made Santiago leave. I wasn’t thinking. Not with you working with Wylder or us coming to Sluggers . . . it’s my fault.”

I toy with an empty shot glass, wonder how Easton’s doing, and worry that one of the guys may have wrenched his bad shoulder.

But more than anything I just want to see him. Need to see him.

“You want me to walk you back?” Cameron asks, and I’m so grateful that he knows me so well.

I nod.

“Scout?”

I look at Cameron. “It’s fine. Thanks for walking me back.”

“You sure?” His eyes dart over my shoulder and then back to mine.

I nod and welcome the huge bear hug he pulls me into. “It was good to see you again, even if the night went to shit.”

I laugh, the tears threatening, as I squeeze him back. “It was. And it did.”

“Fuck you, Ford,” he murmurs and causes me to hiccup out a laughing sob.

“Thank you for never forgetting.”

“Never,” he says as he gives me a peck on my cheek, squeezes my hand, and glances one more time over my shoulder before walking away.

I draw in a deep breath before I turn to face the dark silhouette highlighted by the lone light still on in the parking lot. He’s leaning against the side of my car, his arms folded, his body tense. We stand there with distance between us and discord roiling around us.

“You want to tell me what the fuck that was all about?”