“You tell us. Something’s going on with you.”
I look at Monty with a frown. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been quiet ever since we left Vancouver. The first night in Spokane, you didn’t come hang out in Sin’s room with the rest of us, you skipped breakfast today, and now you’re here scowling at the fuckin’ pink Power Ranger.” Darling gestures to the television. “Somethin’s wrong, brother. Tell us what.”
I exhale, letting my head fall back. “Sometimes it sucks having friends who know me so well.”
The guys don’t laugh like I hoped they would. Instead, when I look at them again, they’re still staring at me with matching looks of worry.
“I’m fine, guys. Seriously. Just got some stuff back home to deal with. This trip was bad timing, that’s all.”
“And would that stuff be about five feet tall with blonde hair?”
I turn a glare on Monty. “Stop.”
“Aw, c’mon, Yami. We’re your best friends and we’re not idiots. We know there’s somethin’ going on with you and Isabelle. Hell, we all do. You weren’t exactly subtle at Sin’s cabin. Hell, the only reason Mav and Sin aren’t in here themselves is because we promised to report back to them.”
I sit down on my bed and flop backward, pulling my cap down to cover my face. “So, what, does the entire goddamn team know? That’s just great. Why hasn’t Coach reamed my ass out already?”
“Because we’re not gonna throw you under the bus like that,” Monty says. “Give us at least a little credit.”
“Alright, it’s about Isabelle. What did you do?” Darling’s voice holds a note of teasing, but I scowl at him anyway.
“Why do you think I did something? I didn’t. Unless you count telling her I love her right after she told me she might have to go back to Italy two weeks ahead of schedule.”
Darling lets out a low whistle and Monty curses.
“Shit, Yami, that’s enough to throw anyone off their game. What’d she say?”
“Nothing. I didn’t let her respond. Figured it might be worse if she didn’t say she loved me back, so I dropped it and ran.”
“Let me guess, you haven’t heard from her since?” Darling’s voice is now full of sympathy. “Been there, man. When Evie went to her interview in Dogwood Cove and I didn’t know how she felt about me, shit, that was the longest two days of my life.”
“Now double that amount of time and throw in a game I need to pitch in a few hours,” I say dryly. “I won’t see Iz again for two more days, I’m expected to live up to the starting pitcher role tonight, and I have no idea if she’d even consider staying in Vancouver with me.”
“Here’s a random thought. Don’t kill me for it.” Monty stands, placing his chin in his hand and propping that elbow up with his other arm. “Why don’t you call her? Right now. Call her and ask her what she’s thinking. Because not knowing is clearly not working so well, buddy.”
I snort. “And if she tells me she’s very sorry but she has to leave in a few days? How the fuck am I meant to pitch after that? Christ. You didn’t see me after she left the first time, eight years ago. It was only college ball, but still, I almost fucked up my chances of ever getting to the major leagues, I was so wrecked. Nah. I can’t talk to her. Not until tonight’s game is over. It’s the only one I’m pitching in this series.”
“So you’ll call her tomorrow?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m gonna suck it up and wait ’til we get home. If she’s gonna break my heart a second time, she can do it to my face.”
As I feared, tonight is already a pile of steaming shit.
During my bullpen warm up, I couldn’t find Monty’s glove with a telescope. It’s like I was fucking blindfolded. Then, when I went out to take infield with my teammates, I missed every one of my throws to first base and forgot to line up a cutoff throw to home. It’s like I lost my brain.
Except I know it’s not lost. It’s in Vancouver with Iz, along with my heart.
I need to go back to the bullpen to finish my pregame warm up, but I need a second to regroup. It’s probably not the best idea to do it in the dugout next to Coach, who’s probably going to tear into me about my warm up, but my head is spinning and I need to sit. Unfortunately for me, the dugout is closer than the bullpen.
“You okay?” Mav drops down on the bench beside me. He’s a quieter guy, normally keeps mostly to himself. But over the last couple of years, he’s warmed up to the rest of us, largely because of his fiancée Sadie. She’s softened him, that's for damn sure. Still, he’s the last guy I would’ve expected to check in on me.
“Fine.” My answer is clipped. He deserves more from me, a part of me can acknowledge that. But I already confessed everything once today. I’m not looking to do it again.
“Right. Fine. I know what that word means.” He chuckles under his breath before pushing up to stand.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I fire back with a grumpy glare.