Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 58437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58437 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“You were awesome,” I said as I scooted by him to pick up a stray glove.
“Thanks.” When I looked back, a small smile lined his lips. He looked so much lighter like that. More handsome too.
By the inning’s end, we’d only allowed one run, and my fingernails were practically shredded from my biting them. But we’d pulled it off and won the damned game.
Dad gripped my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son.”
“Thanks.” My chest tightened because I’d been trying so hard to toe the line and please my dad, and getting validation from him felt amazing. “I’m thrilled for you, Dad.”
As I turned away to fist-bump yet another player, guilt tried worming its way inside my stomach. The win was fucking awesome, but nothing felt exactly right, or settled, for that matter. Not when I had to tiptoe around the one guy I wanted to plant a kiss on. Or at least hug properly, for Christ’s sake.
After everyone was done slapping each other’s backs, Dad urged the players to head to the lockers, reminding them that the field and clubhouse were borrowed from the host university, which essentially meant: don’t leave a mess.
Once I finished gathering the gear, I headed inside, where more celebrating was going on. Girard slung his arm around my neck and announced to the team that it was me who’d helped turn the tide in the game. “Right, Maclain?”
“Right,” he admitted, and the smile on his face seemed genuine.
“How so?” Hollister asked, and after they explained what had gone down with the opposing team’s batter, everyone erupted in cheers. Girard lifted me up in the air, which shocked the shit out of me, and then suddenly I was being passed around like we were at some mosh pit concert.
I noticed Donovan stayed back from the fray, leaning against the far wall, but he was clapping and grinning.
When they finally set me down and started grabbing their stuff to change, Donovan stayed put, like he was frozen in place, still watching me. He was beautiful with his dusty uniform and blond hair sticking up every which way, and when our eyes met, the affection in his gaze was nearly my undoing.
My raw need propelled me forward until I was standing directly in front of him, close enough to touch.
“Kel.” His voice was rough as he cleared his throat. “What you did out there… Ricky will be proud.” He smiled. “You were awesome. You are awesome.”
“Thanks.” I made a frustrated sound. “This is so hard. I want to just…” My words trailed off as I motioned with my hand, my emotions twisting like a tornado inside me.
“I know,” he replied in a soft voice. “It’s okay.”
“Thing is, I don’t think it is, not anymore.” I rubbed at the ache in my chest. “Not when I feel like this.”
“Like what?”
And then I couldn’t hold back any longer and lunged forward into an embrace. His arms automatically wound around me, and we pressed as close as possible. But it wasn’t nearly enough, for either of us. When he lifted me off the ground, I wound my legs around his waist, and that was exactly the closeness I’d needed. I buried my face in his neck, getting a good whiff of him—dust and sweat and everything quintessentially Brady—and I suddenly felt calm and settled inside. Like nothing else in the whole world mattered.
“What are we doing?” he asked against my ear.
“Being in love.”
He drew back with a gasp, then set me down as if his legs were going to fold on him. “Are you saying…”
“I’ve been in love with you for weeks, and I’m tired of hiding it.”
“Damn.” He briefly screwed his eyes shut, his muscles going lax. “Me too. I’m so fucking in love with you.”
I gripped his hand to my chest just as his fingers reached for my jaw. Our mouths met in a slow kiss that felt like heaven, and when his tongue slid past my lips, it was everything I needed in that moment.
There were some obscene noises behind us, along with shocked voices, as we pulled apart and grinned at each other like a couple of saps.
And then Hollister’s voice rang loudest. “It’s about fucking time, Donovan! And if anyone has anything to say about it, you’ll have to come through me. Everyone deserves to find their person, and it’s none of your fucking business as long as they’re happy.”
“Oh, I have something to say about it,” Girard said, and the team grew quiet. “Does this mean Donovan gets a lifetime supply of those fucking gummies?”
The room erupted in laughter as I finally turned to face the guys I’d gotten to know over the past year. Most of their expressions seemed accepting, if a bit stunned. Maclain most of all, despite all his mocking us. And even though Girard was teasing too, his question hit me square center. Don’t play favorites.