Page 9 of Stolen Bases

Why?I silently scream.

She shrugs.

Ugh. This is why I need to move out of the house and make some new friends. Then maybe she’ll stay out of my business.

“I’m fine, Nico.”

His brow crunches, determination flashing in his eyes. “Come with me.”

“What? No.” I can’t spend two weeks with my annoying, overbearing, always-in-my-business brother.

“Go with me to Arizona for spring training. At least for the first two weeks before I travel. I could use the support.” He pops his lip out and turns his puppy eyes on me.

I hate this plan. There is no way I am going to Arizona with him. It’s a bad idea in the making. My overprotective brother drives me crazy on a regular day.

Two weeks of undiluted Nico time?

“No. Nope. No, thanks. Pass.” I shake my head.

“It would also be a great way for me to get out of rooming with Miller. Coach won’t make me stay with him if you’re there. The team has some rental properties designated for us players, so you’ll have your own room at the house.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll pay for everything,” he sings. “How does a spa day sound?”

Damn, that sounds tempting.

“Lia, go. Take some time for yourself before you start work next month. Nico will be on the field most of the day. You will have lots of time alone to decompress. Catch some sun. It will be good for you,” Mamma says, trying to sweeten the deal.

“Ma’s right. You’ll only see me for dinner, if that. I have a few sponsorship meetings to attend.”

I weigh the offer over in my head. It would be nice to get out of town for a bit, and a spa day does sound amazing. Wasn’t I just complaining about not having taken a vacation in forever?

“Just say yes,” Nico pleads, his previous scowl now morphed into a hopeful grin.

“Okay, fine. You win. I’ll go.”

What’s the worst thing that could happen?

three

Cameron

Of course he’s nothere.

Irritation sizzles in my stomach as I glance around the bougie-ass Italian restaurant Romero suggested we meet at.

Before I step foot into our shared living space, my agent set up a dinner for the two of us to settle this beef once and for all.

Coach Anson was serious when he said he wanted us bunking together. I am not looking forward to spending the next couple of weeks with a guy who created a narrative in which I’m the villain. He needs to cut the shit and move on.

I’m too old for his games.

We are too old to let the past get in the way of our careers. The Evaders come first, and winning the World Series this season is all I want. So … I’m here, ready to put it all behind me.

With a growl, I march to the bar, grabbing the lone empty seat. When the bartender arrives, I order a seltzer, even though I wish it was a glass of whiskey. Alcohol is out of the question. I’m in season now, and there is no way I want to drop my guard when Romero shows up.

The bartender drops my soda with a nod and walks away.

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