Page 212 of Out of Left Field

“Nothing is wrong.” Everything was wrong. In those same two months she’d gone on date after date after fucking date.

My skin itched and my blood boiled.

Wes rested his heavy hand on my shoulder. “Of course there’s something wrong. You’ve been a cranky son of a bitch every day of training. And as far as I can tell, you’re getting worse by the day. Is it because Isaac married Kate?”

I balked. Of course I wasn’t upset about my brother marrying the love of his life. “Seriously?”

Wes shrugged. “It had to be asked. Your pitching is on fire, so it’s not that. Not your brother. Seth?”

Seth wasn’t the problem, but he wasn’t the solution either. He was pissed at me for being an asshole. He was also mad that I wasn’t confiding in him. “Seth and I are fine.”

“Then it’s a woman.” Wes nodded, not even waiting for me to answer.

The next thing I knew we were having a goddamned therapy session on the fucking mound with most of the infield.

Hunter Holland scratched his new beard. It was a sad little thing compared to mine, but the shortstop was proud of it. “Look, I know you all like to make fun of my age, but I’m in just as much of a committed relationship with Tilley as any of you. Everett, you need to tell whoever it is how you feel.”

To my utter dismay, everyone nodded along.

“What?” Erik Cassidy, our second baseman, frowned. “You think we don’t know the classic signs? A man is only this grumpy if he needs to get laid or is pining after someone he can’t have…and needs to get laid.”

“You spend too much time around your wife,” I grumbled. Zoe was a bestselling author of romance and science fiction novels.

Novels that Willa—my Willa—had helped turn into blockbuster movies.

“Zoe might write some incredible sex, but you know damn well this is about you.”

Code: don’t mention my wife again.

“You don’t have to tell us who it is,” Wes turned the conversation back on me, “but you can and should talk it out with us. What’s keeping you apart?”

“You have got to be kidding me.” I dragged my hand down my face and tugged on my newly groomed beard. After coming to the first two weeks of spring training looking like a feral mountain man Isaac ordered me to fix it.

He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t normally appear on the mound looking anything less than perfect. It was my image. One I managed to catapult into brand recognition. It had added a million dollars to my earnings last year in endorsements. I was the face of Mountain Man Beard products along with three other ad campaigns for athletic wear and pain relievers.

“Hey look,” Hunter shrugged, “if you want to keep on being alone and miserable that’s your business, but you’re being stupid. You know all about our love lives. Why is yours so special you can’t share it with us?”

I had to give it to the kid, when he struck, he struck hard. “Fucking hell. I stuck my foot in my mouth, okay?”

“Well there’s a shocker,” Wes grumbled. “Don’t you read like a ton of books?”

I had three in my locker, as a matter of fact. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You should be better with words,” Erik replied. “And yet you might be the biggest neanderthal on the team.”

“Hey.” I poked him hard enough to make him take a step back. “That’s an outdated joke based on a lack of information. Neanderthals were very smart.” Wait, did I just own myself? I think I might have. “Besides, we all know Rhett holds that title.”

“Dude, seriously? If you stuck your foot in your mouth, remove it, apologize, and get the girl.” Erik rolled his eyes.

“Get the girl?” Who said shit like that?

Wes shook his head at me like I was the saddest specimen he’d ever seen. “Fine, be miserable, but if you break my hand and we tank this season, it’s on you.”

“I won’t break your hand.” There were other ways of taking out my frustration.

“Did I miss my invitation?” Coach Gordo, Isaac’s second in command, asked as he walked up to the mound. “I know this is just a scrimmage game, but you’re supposed to, you know, be playing.”

“Sorry Coach. It’s my fault.”