Page 10 of Bad Ball Hitter
“But he also won it,” Rappel interjects, smacking my chest. He grins at me. “You best be hitting the town with us tonight. We’re gonna paint it red and celebrate this win in style.”
The tension eases as I nod, a cocky grin spreading across my face. “We have a game tomorrow.”
“It’s just for a few hours. You need to chill.” Rappel flashes an easy smile. “It’ll do you good to mingle. It’s halfway through the season, and you still don’t know anyone.”
“I know you.”
“The most important person I know. But come out with us.”
Rappel and his crew are still single, like me. Or like I was. Wow, that’s going to take some time getting used to. Me being taken. But tonight, I wanted to spend time alone with my girl to get to know her. It’s hard to connect when you’re constantly traveling for away games. Starting a relationship mid-season isn’t the smartest move, but I’m giving it my best shot.
“Come on, Gunner,” Rappel prods, his eyes gleaming under the stadium lights. “We’re celebrating the win, not mourning it.”
“I don’t know, guys,” I hesitate, wiping the sweat off my face with my jersey. “Miranda’s expecting me.”
“Bring her along,” Rappel suggests nonchalantly. I consider it for a moment. I’ve done the drunken bar scene more times than I can count. I wanted to close that chapter, but Miranda might enjoy a night out celebrating. Plus, it might be a good chance to get to know everyone properly. She fits into this world effortlessly, and I can’t ignore how it makes my life easier.
“It’ll be good to make some allies,” he coos.
“Fine, but I’ll have to ask and see if she’s up for it.”
Rappel shoots me another million-dollar grin. “See, this city is doing you well.”
“Gunner, you had a good night going three for five, plus some good saves behind the plate. What would you contribute…” The reporter shoves her microphone in my face, cutting off Rappel. I give him a salute and turn to the reporter. After the postgame rituals, I’ll meet up with Miranda and officially show her off. If I’m going to commit, then I’m going full force. It’s time to make Boston my bitch.
At least for the season.
Then I’ll see where I end up.
As for Miranda, she’ll know exactly where she stands with me after tonight.
Because I’m all in.
CHAPTER FOUR
Miranda
“I don’t need much, but I don’t know what else to do.” My mother’s voice holds a desperation she’s trying to hide. But it’s happened again—her live-in boyfriend skipped out, leaving her with another pile of debt.
I close my eyes. The cool concrete wall outside the stadium doesn’t provide the comfort I seek. My only solace is knowing the man inside will.
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll send some money right now.” My gaze drifts over the stadium exit. Drake will come out any minute. I need to end this conversation. The last thing I need is for him to learn about my mother’s shitshow of a life.
Pulling up the app, I ask, “How much do you need?”
“Twelve hundred will get me by until next week.”
I blow out a breath, afraid to ask what she needs in total. “Okay, I’ll send it now. But Mom…” When she responds, I add, “Hold off on finding a replacement.”
I don’t wait for her answer, knowing full well what it will be. It’s the same thing she always says: “I will unless the right man comes along.”
But they’re never the right man. They’re only suitable for now.
It may take a few years, but every one of them leaves. The difference between Mom and me? I won’t settle for anyone who refuses to support themselves. That’s why I set my sights on a baller. It’s taken longer than I thought, but I always believed I’d snag one eventually.
And speaking of said player, here he comes now in all his athletic glory. Drake strides out with that confident, purposeful walk as if he owns the ground he steps on. The buzz from the game clings to him like an aura I can almost touch. My breath hitches, and a flutter kicks up in my chest, mimicking the day he strolled into my salon.
I could tell he was a fuckboy the moment he walked through my door, full of swagger that only confident men hold. But then he spoke. The richness of his voice descended upon me like an early morning dewfall. And like everything in its wake, I was wet and willing to fall prey to his charm. But as much charisma as he exuded, he had a level of vulnerability. The guy seemed lost, and I happened to be the one to find him. I took full advantage. Electricity crackled through my veins when my hands touched his sculpted shoulders. His espresso eyes locked with mine, and I knew I was a goner. I could’ve jumped on the table and straddled his lap then and there.