Winning Streak (The Beasts of Baseball #4)

Without another word, he carried in my luggage, taking the bags into the walk-in closet.

When he came back out, we stood there looking at each other, both unsure of what to do next.

“Hungry?” he asked.

My belly growled on cue, and we both laughed.

He held out a hand. “Let’s get out of here. A large pizza at our old place sound good?”

I did need out of there, so I agreed.

It felt better in the old torn red booths of the pizza place we used to love. It was just a couple blocks from his old apartment, a place I wished he had kept instead of buying that ridiculous playboy mansion. I began to calm as I shoved the greasy pepperoni slice into my mouth. It was as good as I remembered, and as I sat there with Calvin, we were good.

He told me about the team, replayed some of the great moments he’d had while I was gone. I knew about them already, his no-hitters and his amazing comebacks from horrible games. Rhett had kept me up to date on his progress, mainly the bad stuff, while Sports Center kept me updated on his victories.

This was the man I fell in love with, the one sitting across from me at a dirty diner eating greasy pizza talking about baseball with a sparkle in his eye. I reached across the table and touched his hand. He stopped talking and stared into my eyes.

“I love you too,” I whispered.

His smile was so beautiful it hurt my heart to witness it. Our fingers tightened as we stuffed more pizza into our mouths.

When we went back to his house, he kissed my cheek at the door of my bedroom. Walking into that room alone was one of the hardest and bravest things I’d ever done.

***

The next few days were just like that, easy and good. I gave up my anger over his new place, deciding that nothing mattered. I had left. We were broken up. He was free to do what he wanted.

We took long walks, went sight-seeing, did plenty of shopping and now we were testing out the fireplace in his master suite. I was glad to find out he had never used it before, so that would be a first in that house we could share.

It was still warm at night, so Calvin turned the air conditioning way up to chill the place so the fire would offer the warmth it was meant for. He made me laugh, and as he stood in front of the stone fireplace in his basketball shorts with the metal poker, I don’t think I could’ve loved him more.

He grinned and jumped onto the bed where I had comfortably situated myself with pillows all around me. I snuggled under his arm when he lifted it, a question mark in his eye. He’d been a perfect gentleman, not pressuring me in any way for sex. I wasn’t ready. That was something I was saving for the moment I knew for sure we would be fine.

My hand slowly traced circles on his belly. The tiny hairs that were just above the waist of his pants were my main focus as my fingers delicately played with their curls. My body began to ache for his touch.

His heart thudded harder under my ear, and I knew he was feeling the same thing.

Fear and desire warred inside me as I breathed in his familiar scent.

Over the past months, I’d thought a lot about our separation and everything that led up to our breaking up. At first, I wanted to place all of the blame solely at his feet. Or Ace’s. Or anyone’s! I wanted to be the victim. The wounded one. The good girl who had been wronged.

But our breaking up was as much my fault as his.

When we first moved to New York, neither one of us had been our best selves.

It was time to be our best selves now.

“Kiss me.”

He stiffened, then became a flurry of movement as he sat up and turned until we were face to face, his eyes wide.

I laughed.

“You’re sure?” His beautiful eyes were so earnest.

I moved an inch closer. “Absolutely sure.”

He moved an inch closer. “Sure sure?”

I closed the gap, pressing our lips together, moaning as they melted into one. It was so right. So perfect. We knew each other so well. When our mouths opened, and our tongues slid across each other’s in a perfectly coordinated dance, I smiled.

I opened my eyes. He was smiling too.

“I love you,” he said, rubbing the tip of my nose with his.

Running my hand through his shaggy crop of hair, I knew it was true.

“I love you too, so much.”

Then we laughed. Then we cried. Then we kissed for hours and hours.

I fell asleep in his arms, our lips still touching, our breathing flowing in and out in perfect rhythm. As if we were one.





Chapter Nineteen


Calvin


The last three days were three of the best I’d ever experienced. Having Whitney back in my arms gave me a new motivation, a new sense of being that changed how I looked at everything. I kept looking at the stands, waiting for her to get to the stadium. She was excited to watch a real game in person, having only experienced it from the small TV at her parents’ house. I knew having her there would give me the confidence to throw an amazing game, maybe even another no hitter.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said when she finally appeared and walked down to the fence to greet me.

I’d been at the field for hours for normal pre-game practice and stretching, holding my breath the entire time, hoping she’d actually come.

She wore a pair of cut off jean shorts, a Beasts jersey, and a matching ball cap. Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and her face natural. No makeup needed for that beauty. I was a lucky man. The luckiest man in the world.

“Me too,” she smiled.

We touched fingers through the mesh of the safety net, and she leaned down to kiss me through it like she used to do. The netting was between us, but that was okay.

“I love you,” she whispered against my lips.

I smiled at her. “I love you too.”

Then I watched her sexy ass as she walked back up the steps to her seat behind home plate where I would have the best view of her smiling face from the pitcher’s mound.

Nothing could make this day any better, nothing!

“Malone!” Coach Griffin yelled as I walked into the locker room.

I turned to find him hunched over his desk, his shoulders pushed forward and that vein in his forehead raised to new heights. What was wrong now?

“Yes, Coach.”

“Malone, I thought you said you were cleaning up your act.” His voice was low and deadly as he spoke through clenched teeth.

“Yes, I am,” I agreed, confused about his tirade.

He slammed a paper down in his desk, and for a minute, I didn’t want to look down. I just stared into his angry and disappointed eyes, then took a deep breath and picked up the paper.

And there it was. A tabloid featuring me with my hand over my dick, and the two girls in my bed. Everything around me faded, the locker room noise turning into a low buzz as all the good in my life turned back into a nightmare.

That bitch!

“Sit down,” Coach said, placing a hand on my shoulder and forcing me into a chair.

I shook my head, hoping to wake up and everything be alright again. But the pictures were still there for the entire world — and Whitney — to see.

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