The game was over—the Shock had won.
I wasn’t sure who went wilder: the crowd or the team. The players left in the dugout rushed the field while the crestfallen Sharks trudged off of it. The coaching staff was clapping each other’s backs while the medical staff was giving our usual sighs of relief that the game was over and every player who’d walked onto the field was able to walk off of it.
That was when my gaze drifted toward first base, where Archer was being righted by a herd of his fellow players, shouting their Hell yeah’s and clapping him on the shoulder. No one else seemed to notice, but I did. The subtle flash of pain pull at his face when he started walking off the field with his teammates. The set of his jaw when he put weight on his right leg with each step.
Shit. Slinging my bag over my body, I rushed out of the dugout and onto the field. The players passed me with celebration on their faces, nudging my shoulders as I passed them. No one seemed to notice that one of their players was in pain.
When Archer saw me loping toward him, his eyes darted toward the dugout, where Coach was. I didn’t miss the relief that washed over his face with whatever he saw.
Squeezing between him and Watson, my eyes locked on his.
“I’m fine,” he said under his breath.
“Liar,” I whispered back, moving to put my shoulder under his arm to help him off the field.
“No, don’t.” He gave an almost indiscreet shake of his head. “Coach—I don’t want him to know.”
“Afraid he’s going to yell at you?” The noise was so loud in the stadium, I had to put my mouth right outside his ear for him to hear me.
Archer’s jaw set a little more. “I don’t care if he yells at me—I’m used to it. I don’t like the idea of him yelling at you though.”
I huffed, matching his every step off the field with one of my own. “I can take it.”
“I can’t.”
If he thought Coach would have something to yell at me over, that meant he’d hurt his leg. Again. For all I knew, he’d pulled it all over again.
“Don’t,” he said under his breath when I moved to support some of his weight again.
“Dammit, Luke, this is my job.”
“Exactly, and I want to make sure you still have one tomorrow.” He tipped his chin just enough as we moved toward Coach. He was watching us now.
“How bad is it?”
“Not bad.” When I started to exhale, he added, “Really.”
“Is that why I can see beads of sweat forming on your forehead?”
The faintest of smiles crept into place. “I just finished playing nine innings. Sweat usually comes with the game.”
“Are those nine innings the same reason you look ready to crack a few molars from the way you’re grinding your jaw?”
Coach was still watching us, his brow furrowed just enough to give away that he suspected something was up. Picking up on the same, Luke’s strides became stronger, his gait less uneven.
“How bad? Really?” I asked.
“Not bad. Just a little mad.”
I guessed he was lying or at least under-exaggerating. I guessed that had he been anyone else, he would have been curled up in a ball on the ground, crying for a painkiller that would knock out a Thoroughbred.
That was when his gaze wandered to the stands, centering on one of the front rows, where three girls were flailing their arms like they were trying to hail a cab in New York during rush hour. If he hadn’t told me he had three little sisters, I would have figured it out from one look at them. They were all mini girl versions of Luke: light brown hair, big expressive eyes, and the same wide smiles.
“Fan club?” I asked when he returned the arm flailing motion.
“The feeling’s mutual.”
His sisters were winding their way to the fence, waving him over, totally decked out with Shock gear from foam fingers to shoelaces.
“Why don’t you go say hi, and I’ll get your ice bath ready?”
Luke groaned, but it wasn’t very convincing with the smile on his face. “You want to come meet them?”
My feet stopped moving. He paused when he noticed me stopped at the edge of the field. Since I still didn’t know how to define whatever we were, family introductions had been way off my radar. Introducing a person to one’s family meant things were serious enough to bring that person into your inner circle. Was that how Luke felt about us? Or was he just being polite?
How did I feel about us?
“I think they want to see their brother right now,” I said. “Not one of the team’s athletic trainers.”
Luke’s shoulder lifted. “They’d definitely be interested in meeting the woman I’m seeing.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?’
His eyes locked on mine. “Sometimes the only way to know if you’re ready is to take the leap.”