Page 118 of The Strike Zone

I expected Parker to be in the supply closet where he usually was, but as I rounded the corner downstairs, I found that hewasn’t.Nor was he alone. Unfortunately, I didn’t notice exactly who he was talking to until it was too late, nor that Parker’s face was filled with tension as he stared at me.

“…And I supposethisis a goddamn coincidence,” barked Coach, turning to see what Parker had been looking at.

Crap. Crap crap craaapp.

Blinking hard, I tried my best to keep my face as blank as possible, but I’d been horrible at lying as a kid and it I hadn’t gotten any better at it. I didn’t dare look at Parker or his two cups of coffee, instead pulled out my phone, ignored the pair of them, and kept on walking.

I couldn’t quite make out what Coach was saying as I passed by, but his tone was just as growly and no less quiet. It wasn’t good, I knew that much.

What I didn’t know was where this corridor was leading to, except the fire door now right in front of me. Didn’t really think this plan through, not that Ihada plan beyond getting as far away from Parker and Coach as I could. Now I was stuck. If I pushed through the doors, I would definitely set off the fire alarm.

Turning around, Coach was still talking to Parker. Or maybe he was simply glaring at Parker. I literally had nowhere to hide, except behind the large Ficus plants flanking the corridor.

I was still debating whether to duck behind one when Coach stormed off, leaving Parker standing there, his head down. Even when Coach disappeared around the corner, his head remained dropped.

I ran back toward him. “Parker?”

When he turned around, the expression on his face hit me right in the chest. A combination of anger, hurt, and frustration all teetering on the edge of defeat. This was all my fault.

“What happened?”

“Coach saw me going into the closet and pulled me out. He saw these,” he held up the coffees, “and then you arrived.”

“Oh, no. Parker…I’m so sor?—”

“I’m going to be in deep shit if I don’t sign that form, Scout. Did you hear yet?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but…”

“What?”

“They’re still interviewing, it’ll be a couple more weeks. But I’m?—”

His eyes widened, his eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. “Weeks.Fuck. I can’t wait that long, I’m going to get suspended. Coach will be glued to my ass.”

“It’s okay, I’m going?—”

“It’snotokay, I’m in deep shit,” Parker snapped, once more interrupting me. “Nothing’s okay about it. This is my job, Scout. My fuckingjob.”

I stepped back and stared at Parker, or whoever this guy was in front of me. It wasn’t the one who’d wrapped his arms around me last night and whispered into the dark that his dreams had come true. Not the one who’d pursued me since the beginning of the season. Not the one who was always laughing and joking.

This one’s face was a mask of fury and frustration, mirrored by the hard tone of his snapping.

And while I understood exactly why he was so pissed, and that it was a position I’d put him in without realizing the gravity of the situation, I was beginning to get kind of annoyed at the constant interruptions.

Because if he’d let me speak, I’d have told him exactly what I planned to do—go to HR and pull out of the interview. But from the way he was glaring at me, nostrils flaring, this guy didn’t seem to care about hearing what I had to say.

“Are you done?”

His jaw ground hard. From the tension running through him, I was amazed he hadn’t squeezed the coffee from the cups. “I need the form signed today, Scout. I have a job to do, and I can’t do it with this distraction. Coach was right.”

Distraction.I took a deep breath. I didn’t need an interpreter to translate what he was really saying. That my job didn’t matter.

“I have a job, too, Parker.”

“Yeah, but?—”

“But what?”

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