Her father cocked his head to the side. “I can’t believe you called me stupid.”
“If the stupid hat fits . . .” she said with a smile.
Her dad smiled. “Okay, you’re right. I own the stupid hat and I’ll wear it with all the shame I deserve.”
She laughed. “I’ll talk to you later, Dad.”
She headed out to her car, checking her text messages on the way. Several from her fellow residents all cheering Tucker’s win.
One from Katie that just said, Omgomgomg. A no-hitter! O.M.G. Hope you celebrate appropriately with your stud tonight.
She smiled and shook her head, and hoped they’d get to the point where they could celebrate—appropriately.
She got in her car and headed home.
THAT HAD BEEN EXHAUSTING. EXHILARATING BUT also exhausting. Fortunately he’d worn more champagne than he’d had to drink, celebrating with Grant and Katrina and Leo and Anya, who’d all been thrilled to be at the ballpark for the no-hitter.
Tucker had gotten a huge hug from Grant, and finally kudos from the superstar quarterback who’d told him it was the best damn pitching he’d ever seen.
And Leo had been in awe to be in the locker room, so Tucker had introduced him to all the players and had told them all that Leo had just won his high school team’s state championship. They all congratulated him, and Leo was probably grinning as much as Tucker.
He’d given a ton of interviews, so he drank a lot of water, and showered off all the champagne and sweat before getting in his car to drive to Aubry’s.
He’d talked to his parents and his brothers and sister. He’d never heard his brothers more animated, or more excited about baseball. After all these years he’d gotten his brothers to admit that he was good at this baseball thing. The perfect part of this was he had text messages from all of them celebrating his no-hitter and telling him he was a damn good pitcher.
He intended to save those to throw it in their faces the next time they tried to make fun of him for choosing baseball over football.
It was a good night.
But now was the hard part—facing Aubry.
She’d come to his game tonight. He grinned as he pulled off the highway, unable to believe she’d actually showed up to the game. When he pulled into the parking lot of her condo complex, he was still smiling.
Hell, he might smile for days. He was running on a high that might not ever go away.
At least not until his next loss, which was inevitable.
He hoped it wasn’t too late. Celebrations and interviews had lasted a lot longer than he’d expected them to. But her lights were on, so he knocked lightly at the door.
She answered right away. Her hair was straight, and she wore capris and a T-shirt, so it looked like she’d showered, too.
“Long night,” she asked as she stood aside for him to come in.
“The longest.”
She closed the door. “But the best, right?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, it was pretty good.”
She motioned toward the sofa, so he took a seat. She sat next to him. “Come on, Tucker. It was more than pretty good. It was amazing. You were amazing. And being a part of it—I can’t even explain what that felt like.”
He so wanted to touch her, to lay his hand on her knee, to tug her close so he could feel her body against his. But he had no right. Not anymore. Not after what he’d done. “I felt the electricity of the crowd while I was pitching. It really helped.”
Her face was lit up with excitement. “I’m so glad. I was wondering if it would be too noisy for you there at the end. But we were all so caught up in the moment.”
“No, it really did help. It was like a supercharged environment, and I really think it was all the positive vibes that helped me win.”
She laughed. “No, it was your talent that propelled you toward that no-hitter tonight. Your curveball was on fire. It was like a perfect storm of pitches. You could do no wrong.”
She was saying all the right things—about his game. “Thanks. It’s a game I’ll remember throughout my entire career. But you know, that’s not why I’m here.”
She took a deep breath, then let it out. “About my dad. I was so pissed at him. My mother is so angry with him. And he’s very sorry. He said he’s going to talk to you about that tomorrow. He owes you a big apology.”
“Well, it happened. The worst part is I didn’t do anything about it. It shocked me at first and I just kind of took a moment—a really long moment, unfortunately, to think about what that meant. Like, was he really serious? And if so, what would that mean for my career?”