“What can I do?” I ask, immediately thinking about Natalie. Is she going to be hounded? “Do they know who she is?”
“Not sure,” Gregory says.
“Does Jason know?”
Gregory’s eyes pull together in question as my manager sits back and listens. I’m sure he wants nothing to do with this and just focus on the game but unfortunately, this is part of it. “What does Orson have to do with it?”
“Natalie is his sister,” I say.
An oh shit look crosses Gregory’s face before he pinches his nose as his other arm folds over his chest. “Mother . . . fucker.” He takes a few calming breaths and then says, “Okay, as far as we know, the media has no idea who she is, at least they’re not telling me if they do, which is odd since she’s been in the public eye. Either way, I must ask. Is she coming here?”
“Yeah, next week.” I wince, feeling that sense of dread taking over again.
He nods and looks off to the side. “I can’t tell you what to do, but it might be in your best interest if you tell her not to come. It could cause more of a headache than good. But that’s up to you. If she does come down, make sure she’s wearing a goddamn Rebels shirt.”
I nod, unsure what to say, or really do at this point. Finally I ask, “They’re going to run the picture?”
“They’d be stupid not to. Rebels cash cow caught kissing the enemy? Yeah, that’s going to sell big time.”
“Shit. I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” I let out a slow breath, thinking about the leeway I just made with the guys and wondering if it’s going to be washed away now. “Should I say something to the guys? Warn them?”
This is when my manager steps in and shakes his head. “We keep media off the field. Rumors and headlines are no place for the ball field. If we’re making headlines out on the diamond, it’s for our gloves and bats, not our godforsaken personal lives.”
I nod, understanding completely. “Yes, sir.” Turning to Gregory, I ask, “Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”
He shakes his head and says, “Just keep doing what you’re doing, training and practicing. Let us work the angles for you.”
Standing, I let out another slow breath, apologize, and then head out the door.
Fuck. What the hell do I do now? I’ve never been this guy—the one who brings trouble. I’ve never had to worry about what photos of me might communicate, so I’m out of my depth here. The guys on the team shouldn’t cause shit with this, as I think that bridge has been crossed, but Natalie? The thought of the media hounding her? I just fucking hope they don’t find out who she is.
* * *
“Hey, there you are,” Natalie says as her face pops up on the screen of my phone. “I was getting nervous for a second that you disappeared.”
I chuckle, but even I can hear how fake it sounds. “Been really busy.” And I haven’t been able to figure out a way to tell you not to come down here.
It’s been two days since I saw the pictures and I swear, I’m walking on eggshells, ready for them to appear. I want to tell Natalie about them, open communication and all, but I also know she’d probably feel like absolute shit if she knew those pictures were about to surface and that it’s been causing me stress.
“I’m sure. But do you know who did have a moment to FaceTime me?” she asks with a quirk of her brow. Shit. “My brother.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, casually. What does that say about me? Jason can find the time to FaceTime her in between calling Dottie, but I only sent texts? Great. This is not boding well for me at all.
“Yes, and he told me he was worried about you.” Fucking Jason and his sensitive soul. “What’s going on, Cory? We told each other we were going to be open and honest. Texting, pictures, FaceTime. The first day I knew you were getting settled, so I gave you that. But not hearing from you yesterday, that doesn’t sit right with me.”
I drag my hand over my face, hating that she’s right and that I’ve already been a shitty boyfriend. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Natalie.” I blow out a long breath. “I . . .” I look away and figure, she’s right—open communication. This is only going to work if there’s complete honesty. Looking back at her worried expression, I ask, “What did Jason say to you?”
Her brow pinches together and I hate that look of worry. She didn’t sign up for that, and it’s my responsibility to carry this shit. As it’s always been. But it doesn’t help that her brother is telling her what’s happening either.
“He said you’ve been getting along with the guys, which is great to hear, but that you’re reserved and quiet when it’s just you two. He said that you’re getting heckled entering the stadium.”
“Nothing new there,” I say, remembering some of the shitty things they said about me today.
“But still, you shouldn’t be treated like that. He also said you were pulled into your manager’s office on the first day, and that’s what set off your mood.”
True. All facts. Way to tell her almost everything, Jason. I’m reserved around him, because I use all my goddamn energy around the guys, not wanting to show them one ounce of worry. They need to be able to know my mental strength is unshakable. They need to know that nothing is going to shake me on the field. And even though, when I’m in the locker room or driving back to my hotel room, my heart feels like it’s in my throat with worry, I push that to the side the minute my cleats are slipped on. I have a job to do, and that job is to play baseball and be part of a team, a team that I’m still desperately trying to earn respect from.
“What’s going on, Cory?”
She deserves the truth. I just hate that she’s going to feel terrible about it.
Taking a deep breath, I say, “The press is still having a field day with me.”
“I’ve read.” She glances away. “I love you, Cory. I want to know that you’re okay.”
“I love you too, beautiful. So fucking much it hurts not to be with you right now,” I say, the ache in my chest growing exponentially when I realize I can’t reach through the phone and pull her into my arms. This is why I never had a relationship while playing baseball, because of this distance, this undeniable pain constantly washing through my veins from not being able to have my girl right next to me.
“I don’t understand why they keep making things up about you.”
“Because I’m an easy target.” I shrug. “It’s shitty, but it is what it is. I get paid a fuck ton of money to not let it affect my mental game, and that’s what I’m trying to do. Block it out. But, uh, when I was called into my manager’s office, I was informed of some pictures the press plan on releasing at some point this week.”
“Oh God, are they naked pictures of us?” she asks, her face going white.
“No.” I quickly put her at ease. “No, nothing like that, it’s just of us holding hands and embracing.”
“Oh.” She laughs. “Okay, jeeze, you made it seem like—”
“You’re wearing the Bobbies shirt.”
She pauses and just like that, I see all the color drain from her beautiful face as her mouth falls open and her hand falls to her heart. “Oh my God, Cory. I—”
“Yeah, Gregory from PR is trying to clear the pictures before they surface, but I’m not sure if he has or not. They haven’t printed yet, which I’m surprised about, so maybe he took care of it.” Tears form in her eyes and this is exactly what I was afraid of, Natalie feeling the burden of all of this. “Listen to me, Natalie, this is not your fault.”
“Are you insane?” she asks, her voice breaking. “Of course this is my fault. I am so stupid.” She presses her hand over her eyes. “I just made your life exponentially harder from a stupid mistake. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s going to be okay,” I say but the words hold no weight, because I don’t know if it’s going to be okay or not.
It seems so innocent and to any other team, any other city, this wouldn’t be an issue. The pictures wouldn’t be on any radar, but given my backstory, the mult
iple pictures of me as a kid in Bobbies clothes, my brother-in-law being a Bobbie, the media amping up the rivalry, the pictures are monumentally devastating.
A tear falls down her cheek as she shakes her head. “I’m so sorry, Cory. I really, really am.”
“I know,” I say softly, hating what I’m going to say next. Seeing that single tear roll down her cheek feels like a rusty pitchfork’s digging into my gut, churning and churning to point that I’m nauseas. “I . . . uh, I was thinking that maybe it’s best you don’t come to visit quite yet.”
“What?” Her eyes shoot up and her lip trembles. “Are you . . . breaking up with me?”
“What? No,” I shout, my chest growing so tight that it almost feels impossible to breathe. “No, fuck, I’m not breaking up with you. I love you, Natalie.”
“Then why don’t you want me there?” she asks, and I can hear the vulnerability in her voice. I can see the desolation in her eyes.
“It’s not that I don’t want you here, because hell, I need you here, Natalie. I need your warm embrace, your soft lips, your smile. I need it all now more than ever. But I’m terrified what might happen if you’re here when the pictures come out, if they do.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me.” Her calming tone eases some of the tension. “Rebels fans are assholes, but they’re not criminals.”
I laugh at that and shake my head. “I understand, but I also don’t want you to see anything, hear anything.”
“I will eventually.”
“Not at the height of it all,” I say and then sigh. “I know it sucks, and I’m going to miss you like crazy, but I really think it’s for the best. I love you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She looks off to the side, biting the corner of her lip. “I love you too.”
Resolved with this conversation and wanting to move on, I ask, “How was lunch with Joseph?”
The mention of her brother makes her smile as she brings her eyes back to mine. “Wonderful. He was at a local high school the other day promoting The Lineup. My mom spoke to an assembly of athletes about inclusion, they showed the PR clip we had put together, and the teenagers asked how they could start a program immediately.”
“That’s amazing. He must have been so happy.”
“He was. He was beaming, that’s for sure. We have a long way to go but getting a local high school on board with our mission is one step closer to full-on inclusion.”
I smile at her, wondering how I was able to get this beautiful girl with the even more beautiful heart to fall in love with me, to even give me a shot.
We spend the next two hours talking about spring training, the guys, Jason’s ability to win over everyone in a matter of seconds, Joseph’s candid ability to joke around just like Jason, and how much we miss each other. We don’t do anything frisky. We don’t even flash each other the goods. But we connect on a deeply intimate level and when we hang up, for the first time in two days, I feel like everything is going to be okay.
Chapter Twenty-Four
NATALIE
“Where are you right now?”
“The airport,” I say on a wince.
“Oh Natalie,” Monica says on a sigh. “I thought he told you not to go.”
“I know. I know.” I shift in my uncomfortable airport seat and bring my knees into my chest. “But I need to see him. I need to make sure he’s okay, that we’re okay.”
“You said you were.”
“It seems like it. But there’s something missing when he talks to me, almost like he’s holding back again. There’s worry in his eyes even when he’s smiling and laughing with me. I think if we just press reset, everything will be okay.”
“What about the pictures?”
“I think Gregory took care of them, because it’s been a week and they’re not out. With spring training starting, now would be the perfect time to release something like that.”
“True.” And she pauses for a second before saying, “I’m still nervous for you.”
“It’s not like I’m going to find another woman in his hotel room,” I say, because that’s what Monica almost seems like she’s alluding to.
“Oh my God, no.” From her quick response, I relax. Cory would not do that, but I don’t want Monica to even entertain that thought in her head about him. “Cory would never cheat on you, not just because of what Ansel did to you, but because he’s not that man. I’m just worried that he’s super stressed right now and having you there might stress him out more.”
“Yeah, I can see where you’re right, but then again, what’s being in a relationship if we can’t shoulder some of the responsibility of stress, right? Plus, this added stress he’s been harboring is from me, so I want him to know that everything is okay. I’m a big girl, I can handle things.”
“Okay. I mean, you’re at the airport anyway. Maybe take him some Garrett’s popcorn?”
“Already bought some.”
She chuckles. “Now that’s a good girlfriend. Okay. I have to go. Good luck, and text me when you get there.”
“I will, thanks. Love you.” I hang up and stare out at the tarmac where planes are coming and going, bags are being tossed around, kitchen galleys are restocked, and cars buzz around with a purpose.
While life happens below me, I keep trying to remind myself that this is a good idea. Seeing Cory is a good idea. Being with him will only help us, not hurt us.
With that mindset, I lean back in my chair and wait to be called to my gate.
The entire flight, I listen to King Princess, loving the smooth tone of her voice. The flight is flawless, besides some turbulence headed into Fort Myers. I enjoyed a can of apple juice, some pretzels, and some word search puzzles, because I’m old-fashioned like that.
Once we land, I turn my phone off airplane mode only to be flooded by texts from Dottie and Monica. My heart sinks as I see the headline copy and pasted into the message thread from Monica, followed by her text.
Monica: This is not good.
Shit.
I open it quickly, but of course it takes forever to load thanks to the metal tube I’m sitting in, but when it finally does open, my heart sinks from the headline and the pictures of me and Cory, kissing, my Bobbies shirt clear as day.
Potter Shows Zero Loyalty.
It feels like my lungs just exploded and landed on the floor, making it impossible to breathe despite my throat gasping for air.
Even though I know it will only make the situation worse, I scroll to the article and read it to myself while the flight attendant welcomes the plane to Fort Myers.
This just in from the latest Potter Watch. Rebels starting first baseman, with a nine-figure contract, was spotted with his girlfriend outside of Top Golf in Chicago. A close source to the couple says they’ve been dating for a few weeks. But what really has Rebels fans in a rebellion is the clear statement he’s making by dating a Bobbies fan who has no problem displaying her loyalty. Sources are also saying Potter is having a hard time finding his groove and meshing with the guys at spring training. Maybe we’re being presumptuous, but it might be because he’s parading around with a Bobbies fan and showing the city of Chicago exactly where he stands . . . on the side of red and blue.
“Shit,” I mutter, taking in the pictures again. It’s actually a beautiful shot of us. Cory is looking at me as if I own his world, and I’m smiling up at him, clearly the happiest girl out there. The only problem with the picture is the shirt I’m wearing. So stupid. So, so stupid.
I type Monica back.
Natalie: I feel like I’m going to throw up. This is bad.
Monica: That’s not even the worst article of them all. Did you read the fan comments?
My stomach churns and I shake my head.
Natalie: I don’t think I can do that. I already feel like the pretzels I ate are going to make a reappearance. I just need to get to him. Do you think he’s seen it?
Monica: If he hasn’t already, he sure as hell will when he ge
ts off the field.
There’s no doubt in my mind he will. I just hope I can beat him to his hotel room.
* * *
“Fuck.” The door to the hotel slams and Cory’s angry voice sails through the hotel suite. It’s a nice room with a small kitchenette, living space and a giant bed, and I know from being Jason’s sister, not everyone gets these rooms, and the rookies have to share rooms sometimes. Cory has earned this suite.
It has to be that nine-figure contract the news keeps talking about.
Thankfully he hadn’t cancelled my room keycard last week when he told me not to come, so at least I could be waiting for him in his room and not in the lobby.
He hasn’t spotted me yet, but I can see him, leaning against his door, one hand pushing through his hair, the other holding his phone as he scrolls through it.
“Jesus. Fuck,” he mutters again. This time, he tosses his phone at the couch and then brings both his hands to his hair and looks up, and that’s when he spots me standing in the middle of the room. He startles back for a second, then blinks, then his entire face calms as he charges toward me.
His hand sinks to the back of my neck as he pulls me into his chest and brings his mouth down to mine.
Relief floods through my every limb. I reach up and grip the back of his neck as he devours my mouth. Frantic, he parts my lips with his tongue, then dives and glides it along mine as his mouth works mine with such a frenzied passion that it almost makes me cry. He told me not to come, but in a matter of seconds, I know I made the right decision. He needs me here more than anything. He needs this release, this embrace, someone to lean on even if he tries to tell me he’s okay. He’s kissing me, as if he couldn’t be more grateful that I’m here.
“I need to be inside you,” he says between kisses, moving me back to the bed.
He tears my shirt over my head and unlatches my bra at the same time as his mouth presses across my jaw and down my neck. For a brief moment, he pushes away to pull his shirt over his head by gripping the back and dragging it over his freshly showered hair, the only way guys know how to. He chucks it to the side and then lowers me on the bed where he removes my leggings and thong, not even bothering to take in the new lace I bought for the trip. Staring down at me, he gets rid of his jeans and briefs as well along with his socks and shoes and then pushes us both up on the bed. His mouth falls to my breasts while his hand trails down my stomach, to my pubic bone, and then slips between my thighs where he presses two fingers inside me. When he feels that I’m already wet, he groans against my breast, nips at it with his teeth, and then pulls away.
The Trade Page 31
