Page 114 of Stealing Second

Getting out, Gwen says, “I really wanted to hate this idea, but this is gonna be fun.”

“You played softball, right?” CeCe asks Cora.

“Sure did.” She smirks. “Let’s do this.”

CeCe picks Elle up and sets her on her lap, giving her a squeeze, and smooches. Something I think she does when she’s fighting anxiety.

“Thinking this team is stacked.” Marks winks as he climbs out, grabbing both coolers.

I get out, jog around, open the passenger door, and take Elle off her lap.

“Shit, I forgot her bag.”

“She has a bag?” I ask, amused as I take Elle and set her on the ground.

CeCe rolls her eyes. “Of course she has a bag. How else would she travel to work every day?”

“Holy shit, you’re not joking.”

She slides out of the minivan and looks down, brows furrowed.

I lift her chin. “We have water. She can eat meat from the sandwiches.”

“Okay.”

“What else?”

“What else what?”

“You’re still upset.”

“What if I suck now?”

I rub my thumb over her lower lip. “I’m fond of the way you su—oof.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“I mean, you did just sock me in the gut, so it’s kind of funny.”

“It won’t be funny when I decide I can’t date a baseball player if I suck at slow-pitch softball.” She sticks her little nose up in the air and walks her ass toward the crowd.

I grab the extra cooler with the food from the back for the rest of the people who are meeting us or are here already, lock the van up tight, and head toward the field, looking around and making sure there isn’t a white Camry in sight.

As I get closer, I realize I know almost every man who is running in from warming up. Abe’s pitcher. Jase is first base, Justice is second, Zandor, is third, Xavier Steel is short, and Cyrus is catching. In the outfield are some more recognizable Steel-adjacent men running in.

“You good?” Amias asks as I get closer to him.

“Yeah,” I answer, hoping like hell he doesn’t bring up what went down earlier. “Just want CeCe to have a good time.”

“She will, but you won’t.” He laughs. “It’s miserable, sitting here, watching.”

“You don’t play with them?”

“Have the same contract as you, man. We’re in season; my body is owned by the Jaguars.”

“You come here every week?”

He cocks his head. “Used to. Basically grew up here, watching them. They just don’t have time to play anymore. You gave them an excuse to dig out the old gear and have some fun.”

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