Page 204 of Out of Left Field

I need you. Those three words did a lot of things to me. Some of them confusing. “I wish you needed me then,” I whispered, shocked I actually said the words out loud.

His face fell, then he crushed me to his chest in one of his signature bear hugs. “I did need you.”

A hole in my chest opened. A yawning emptiness that felt a lot like loss. It mirrored another, older feeling. One that would never be filled. The similarities disturbed me, so I slipped out of his grasp and took a breath of fresh air as I stared at the shockingly blue sky. We picked a perfect day to wander outside.

“It’s damn cold but it sure is pretty,” Everett murmured, letting our conversation go. The rolling countryside was broken up into rectangles, squares, and triangles by low, rambling stone fences. It was like a massive, gorgeous, wintery puzzle.

“It’s beautiful. I wish I could capture it.” But visuals on this trip had simply eluded me, which was a massive problem considering I told visual stories for a living. The endless sky, the cliffs, the castles. It was all so…immense. And, much to my frustration, elusive.

I came on this trip with an entire arsenal of cameras. And yet, I hadn’t taken one video or photograph that satisfied me. Everything was just a bit off.

Everett frowned. “You’ve been capturing it nonstop.”

“No, I’ve been taking pictures. Snapping a photo is entirely different from capturing it.”

“Ah.” The wind caught his hair, pinning it back against his beanie. He looked more like a mountain man than an elite professional pitcher. He was relaxed. From the crinkles at the corners of his eyes to the gentle swagger, Everett Anson was the picture of stress-free calm.

It looked good on him.

I told myself I only noticed that because it was my job to study how everything looked, but if I was honest with myself, ever since Everett joined the Mantas and I moved to St. Pete, I noticed more and more about him than I ever had before.

I wasn’t sure what it meant. I was scared of what it meant.

Especially in moments like this. Moments that were perfect. I was alone on a country road with Everett. I couldn’t lose him again.

I couldn’t.

“Let's keep wandering.” We spent the early afternoon exploring the village with Seth and his fiancée Annalise Ryan. Annalise played for the Tampa Bay Tangerines, the team that had hired me for my dream job.

After eight long years in Hollywood, I finally had my documentary. So far things had been a little jumbled since I was taking over for someone else. Someone who’d been fired. The material I was given wasn’t my own, but I made it work. I had a talent for that. It’s part of what made me so successful in Hollywood. When the women returned for the next season though, it was all mine. Excitement flooded my veins. I felt more alive than I could ever remember. Making movies and the occasional episode of television was fun. It taught me valuable skills about adapting to situations, telling the core story, and working with a team of creatives all with varying goals. But it wasn’t my dream job.

I wanted to craft stories out of real life. I wanted to find new and interesting ways to explain the world to people.

The Tangerines were my first step on the path to the rest of my life.

Of that I was sure.

But I also got this niggling feeling every time my thoughts wandered this way. The rest of my life also started when it brought Everett back to me.

What did that mean?

His hand brushed mine as we took a turn. It made my heart beat faster. My mouth went dry. Especially when I looked up at his profile and saw nothing but rugged handsomeness.

I shouldn’t think Everett was handsome.

At least the word sexy hadn’t popped into my head yet. Fuck. Dammit! Why did I have to go and think the word while I was looking at him! I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured dried figs.

“You okay, Tink?”

Everett had called me Tinkerbell since the beginning. He was six-foot-three with broad shoulders, while I was barely five-foot-one and had always been tiny. He wasn’t the first person to call me a fairy or a sprite, but he was the first to say it with so much affection that it made me love it. Therefore, he was the only one with permission to use that nickname. It was his.

“I’m just sad we only have one day here.”

“It’s been a good trip.” His fingers twitched. Then he whipped off his hat and ran them through his hair like he needed to give them something to do. “I’m looking forward to more trips in the future.”

Now that we were all back together. He left that part unsaid.

I swallowed hard because my whole body seemed to have gone wild for a moment. Then I shook it off and kept walking.