Page 175 of Left on Base

She hands back the bedazzled fork. “I’m keeping this for evidence.”

Fork Guy grins, steering me toward the elevator. “See that?” he whispers, way too loud. “That’s the power of friendship, plastic, and lactose. Go, Baseball Boy! Seize your destiny! And don’t forget to knock—last time I surprised a girl in her hotel room, I almost got tased.”

“I’m not surprised.”

As the elevator doors close, I hear the clerk mutter, “What is it with athletes this week?”

Fork Guy winks. “Forks up, my dudes.”

“Whatever that means.”

The elevator lurches upward, and I realize I’m squeezing the pint so hard my fingers are numb. I try to figure out what to say to Cam, but my brain is static. I picture opening my mouth and croaking like a toad. Great, just what every ex wants: a surprise amphibian.

When the doors ping open, Kingston’s leaning against the wall, scrolling his phone like he’s got nowhere better to be. Six foot four of pure calm, probably here because Fork Guy texted him something like “Operation Cupid’s Dumpster Fire.” He looks up, grinning, all effortless confidence. “I’m here for emotional support,” he says, like we’re just here for snacks.

I almost ask him to trade places, but I know he would, and then I’d hate myself. I hand him my spare key card—the one for his room, since he’s already crashed here. “If Brynn tries to murder you, run.”

He fist-bumps me with the solemnity of a knight sending his squire to certain doom. “Don’t choke, bro.”

The hallway is cold and quiet, carpet muffling my footsteps like it wants to keep secrets. I stand outside 414, breathing hard. My heart’s tap-dancing in my chest. I almost bail. I could leave, claim the elevator got stuck, tell everyone I tried. But then I picture Cam’s face, and my brain launches Worst Case Scenario Theater: she slams the door, tells me I ruined her life, throws her cleats, or—somehow worse—looks through me like I’m nobody.

I knock. I haven’t even practiced what I’ll say. Should I beg for forgiveness? Ask for another chance? Camdyn deserves way more than I can ever give, say, or do to win her back, but I have to try.

The door cracks open. Brynn stares at me. “You’re not room service.”

I forgot they room together on away games. “Uh. Yeah.” I glance at the ice cream numbing my hands. My brain screams, Say something normal! “I’m not.”

Brynn’s eyes flick from mine to the ice cream. “Is that for me?”

I pull it back. “Nah.”

She rolls her eyes, seconds from slamming the door and calling for backup. “Then go away.”

“This is for you though.” I hold up the key card in my hand—Kingston’s, not hers, but whatever. “This card key gives you access to a certain baseball player.”

“Cam.” Brynn rips the key card from my hand. “I’ll be back later.”

“What?” Cam yells from inside the room. “We ordered food.”

The sound of her voice sends a wave of butterflies through me. I’m nervous as fuck to walk in. What if she tells me to leave? What if I say something so dumb I combust? Am I sweating through my shirt? I check. Fuck, I am.

“Yeah, I know,” Brynn yells back, already running out and leaving me in the doorway. “You eat it. I’ll be back later.”

Then Brynn pretty much shoves me in. “Don’t fuck this up again.”

Pressure much? My brain is short-circuiting. My hands are shaking so bad the ice cream’s about to hit the carpet. I consider hiding behind the door, but it’s too late. I’m inside.

Now what? I don’t fucking know. I guess I see what happens. Maybe Fork Guy was right—sometimes you just have to show up.

CHAPTER 36

BASES LOADED

CAMDYN

A situation where the offensive team has a runner on first, second, and third base.

Istare at him, the door half-open, the hallway’s chill sneaking in behind him. I’m not ready for the sight of Jaxon—unshaven, hair a little longer, eyes blue as the sky. He looks older, and tired, like he hasn’t slept in days. Or maybe that’s just how I remember him. A little lost, a little out of reach, and still—God help me—impossible to ignore.

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