Page 70 of Untying the Knot
But I don’t want her to fucking walk away.
Hell, I thought I was so close when I went to her place. We talked for two weeks straight and joked around. I looked forward to her messages after my away games, and when I returned to Chicago, she was the first person I wanted to see. I took a chance and went to her place. And that chance was paying off, until . . . until she retreated, talking herself out of taking a chance on me.
“From his silence, I’m going to guess he’s not good with that,” Walker says.
“Yeah, I don’t think he is,” Penn agrees. “So best we prepare ourselves for what’s to come.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say as I stand from my chair. “I’m going to take a walk. I’ll be back before we report to the field.”
* * *
“Are we ready, boys?”Knox Gentry, our captain and shortstop, calls out as he warms up his arm with Carson Stone, our second baseman.
“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Dempsey says from where he’s stretching on the ground.
“Head on right?” Knox asks me as I finish up my calisthenics. My arm is already warm, it’s my legs and torso that are feeling a bit stiff, and I know why. Yesterday, I took my frustrations out in the weight room, and I’m paying for it now.
“Yeah, head’s on right,” I say as I line up near the foul line in the outfield and bend over to do some more stretching of my hamstrings, knowing damn well that someone in the stands is taking a picture of my ass this very moment.
“You sure? Because you don’t seem like your normal self. It’s crunch time, man.”
“I know,” I say while blowing out a heavy breath and stretching even further.
“Okay, if you need to talk, you know I’m here. I’ve been through my fair share of woman problems.”
Yeah, you could say that. Knox is married to Emory, whom he met back in college, but their relationship was one hell of a roller coaster.
“Thanks. I’m just trying to focus on the game and then figure things out off the field.”
Knox catches the long toss from Carson, who is now jogging in from all the way out in the center field. “Good. On the field, get the job done. Off the field, you let me know if you need to talk.”
I give him a fist bump, grab my glove from the turf, and head to the stands where people are lined up, waiting for any interaction with the players. I make sure to interact with the fans because they spend enough money to come see us. It’s the least that I can do. Recently, they’ve put up protective netting from foul pole to foul pole all along the backstop. It has limited our ability to sign things for the fans, but it was put up to protect them from foul balls. Oddly enough, the Bobbies staff gave us some training on how to sign balls through the small holes, so I quickly sign a few as well as take a few selfies, despite the netting, and then head toward the dugout.
As I approach the dugout, fans cheer, wave, and take pictures. I wave back, smile, and then I feel my heart stop as I spot a familiar face.
A familiar smirk.
A familiar pair of eyes that have captured my attention from the first moment I saw them.
Myla.
She’s in the stands.
What the hell is she doing at the game?
ChapterEleven
MYLA
Present day . . .
Myla:I wish you didn’t have to leave.
Nichole:I know, but I have that appointment I can’t miss. I’ll try to find some time after the wedding to come visit you.
Myla:I should have gone with you.
Nichole:No, I told you it wasn’t necessary. Just a routine checkup.
