Sitting down on a bench, I waited for the guys to show up, no sounds at all around me, except my own.

  Both doors flew open, slamming into the walls behind them, and I looked up to see Colin fresh-faced and Matt looking like hell.

  “It’s too early for this shit,” Matt groaned as he moved his sunglasses on top of his head, over his hat.

  “You wanna start or sit on the bench, Transfer?” I asked, pretending like I had any idea what Coach Jackson’s plans were for Matt.

  “Fuck you,” he said, sliding his sunglasses back over his eyes. “And stop yelling.”

  I looked at Colin and let out a quick laugh.

  “Someone’s a little hungover,” Colin said as he gripped Matt’s shoulder and gave it a slap before giving me a fist pound in greeting.

  “How are you not?” Matt asked Colin, seriously questioning how he was the only one who felt like death while the rest of us were okay. “And where were you anyway?” Matt directed the last question at me.

  “What do you mean, where was I?” I started to ask before adding, “You don’t remember falling, do you?”

  “Falling?”

  “I picked your ass up and tucked you in bed.” I shook my head, and he looked at me like I was crazy.

  “That didn’t happen,” he argued.

  “Oh, it fucking happened,” I emphasized, and he looked at Colin for confirmation.

  Colin nodded.

  “Shit. Well, thank you for taking care of me.” He sounded so disappointed and sad. “I won’t get that hammered again.”

  “You will,” both Colin and I said at the same time as Matt walked to the cabinet and pulled out something for his headache.

  “But Matt’s not wrong. Where did you go? One second, you were there, and then I saw Hayley at your door, looking around, but no you,” Colin added with a smirk, and I struggled to remember exactly how I’d left things when I went and chased after Sunny. All I could think about was getting to her.

  “Please tell me Hayley was not in my room.”

  “She was,” Colin said, his smirk turning into a frown. “But I made the bitch leave. Hope that was the right call.”

  Colin had been on the team when Hayley dumped me in front of everyone, so he knew our history and hated her for what she’d done.

  “Thank you. Definitely the right call.”

  “She was pissed.” He gave me a salty smirk. “I kinda enjoyed making her feel like shit.”

  Matt raised his hand in the air like he was in class and wanted to be called on. “Hayley’s that super–smoking hot chick, right? Why do we like embarrassing her? What am I missing?”

  “That’s a story for another time. Here,” I said, tossing a drink filled with electrolytes at him. “Drink that, and let’s get to work.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Operation SunnyMac?” he said, and I pounded my chest with my fist as I coughed, remembering that he had said that last night as well.

  “Operation what?” I asked, my eyes wide, no idea what the heck Matt was talking about.

  “Operation SunnyMac?” he said the words again, only slower this time and more like a question. “Maybe I’m making it up. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  Matt waved me off, Colin looked at me and shrugged, and I let it go.

  After two hours outside, my stomach was grumbling, and my body was sore. I was starved and dripping with sweat. It was well before noon, but it was already hot as hell outside. Welcome to fall in Southern California. It wasn’t quite as hot as it was in Arizona, but the air was wetter here, and it felt heavier somehow.

  “I’m so hungry,” Matt said.

  I nodded as we headed back inside toward the locker room. “Me too. Do we have any food at the house?” I asked.

  Colin laughed. “After last night? I highly doubt it.”

  “Let’s go to the store then. I’ll buy,” I said, patting my pocket like it was filled with cash when it was actually empty.

  Dick Davies never gave me cash, only a credit card that I was to charge everything on—from groceries to baseball equipment and even my bar tabs. Something about write-offs and expenses that I only partially understood, mostly because I didn’t care.

  “You know, you never answered about where you ran off to.” Colin nudged against my shoulder, acting like he knew something even though he wasn’t coming out and saying it.

  “Oh yeah. Did you hook up with Sunny or what?” Matt asked, and I felt my blood pressure rise. “I think I remember seeing her there last night. It’s all kind of a blur. But does she have”—he stopped, holding his head between his hands—“silver hair now?”

  “It doesn’t matter what she has,” I snapped. “She’s off-limits.” I practically bit his head off without meaning to.

  “You already told me that,” Matt said, sounding annoyed as we walked into the locker room and toward our stuff.

  “Just making sure you remember.”

  Matt held up one finger. “Stay away from Sunny, the silver-haired goddess,” he said before adding another finger. “Being mean to Hayley the smoke show is okay.”

  I laughed slightly before punching his shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Why?” he whined. “That’s what I’ve learned so far.”

  “Did you leave with her?” Colin asked again, a little too excited and clearly pushing me for info.

  “Why do you care so much?” I pinned him with a glare, wondering why he was so concerned about Sunny and what I had—or hadn’t—done with her. I didn’t like it, but before I could say anything else, Coach walked in.

  “Hey, guys.” Coach Carter came into view with our other roommate Dayton trailing behind him, his eyes tired.

  I hadn’t even realized that Dayton was out here, throwing, but it made sense. He was as serious about baseball as I was.

  “How long have you guys been here?” I asked.

  “About forty minutes,” Dayton answered as he took his hat off and wiped at his forehead. His face was red, and he looked like he might pass out as he grabbed a towel and walked to the sink to get it wet.

  “I’m actually glad you’re here, Coach,” I said, looking at my best friend’s dad. “Can I talk to you?”

  “Of course,” he said with a shrug.

  The guys all gave me weird-ass looks. They had no idea what I was up to, and while it wasn’t odd that I wanted to talk to Jack Carter, my best friend’s dad, it was strange to do it here and now because he was the pitching coach, and ... well, I wasn’t a pitcher.

  I gave a nod toward the locker room exit before grabbing an extra drink I had and tossing it at Dayton. “Drink this before you die.”

  “What’s up? Heard from Chance lately?” Coach Carter asked as we walked away from the group of guys, leaving them to whisper.

  “I texted with him the other day. He seems really happy,” I said, and Jack’s face lit up.

  He was one of the proudest and most supportive dads I’d ever met. I couldn’t imagine.

  “He does, doesn’t he? I think it’s that girl of his.”

  “I think it’s everything,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound jealous or envious even though I was a little of both.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Coach agreed as the bright lights hit us. We were back outside, clear of any prying ears. “So, what’d you want to talk about?” He stopped walking, his arms folding in front of his chest as he looked down at me.

  I decided to dive right in. I needed to know what the reality was this season and how hard I needed to push myself and in what capacity. Did I even have a shot? “It’s about my future, Coach. As far as I know, there aren’t any scouts asking Coach Jackson about me. There doesn’t seem to be any interest, and I know that, usually, by now, if there were, I’d have some idea about it. Right?”

  He pondered what I’d asked him, taking his time to formulate a response, and all it did was feed my nerves.

  Was he wondering how to break the news to me that I didn’t have a future in professional baseball?

  “Mac, all I can tell you is that some guys have scouts following them the second they get into college. Other guys don’t. Hell, most guys don’t. It isn’t a death sentence for you, so don’t give up. Just because it seems like you aren’t on anyone’s radar right now, it doesn’t mean that’s the truth. We don’t always know what the scouts are up to. Coach Jackson and I will make sure your name gets out there, but you have to do the work. You have to make a name for yourself.”

  “I know.” I swallowed hard before continuing, “And I’ve been doing all the right things, but should I be doing more? What if everything I’m doing just isn’t enough?” I shifted my weight and started biting the back of my thumb. “You can tell me, Coach. I can take it. Just be honest.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed and waited for him to say that I didn’t have what it took. I expected to hear it.

  He clapped my back instead, forcing my eyes to open. “You’re quick on your feet. You have the speed and a good eye at the plate. But you don’t hit for power, and sometimes, that’s all the teams are looking for in a season, you know?”

  I knew he was right. There were so many nuances that went into each professional team. It was a business after all, and they had specific things they needed that changed after each season.

  “You’re a solid hitter, always getting on base and rarely striking out, which is impressive but not always enough. Look, Mac, I’m going to do my best to fight for you this season, but in the end, it’s not up to me. And every other coach out there is going to be pulling for his own guys too. If you want a different perspective on things, you can always talk to my brother. I know he’d be willing to answer any questions you might have, and he knows way more about what’s going on behind the scenes than I do.”

  Jack’s brother, Dean Carter, was a sports agent—specifically, baseball. He was one of the best, and we all wanted to be repped by him. I knew that Dean was regularly in touch with the scouts and had firsthand knowledge on what they looked for and who they were currently looking at.

  Nodding, I decided that maybe talking to Dean would be the right move.

  “I might take you up on that. Thanks, Coach.”

  “I know it’s hard, Mac,” he started to say. “To be a senior and to feel like it’s your last chance. When Cole was here, he told me that he always felt like he was running out of time. He said every day was like racing against a ticking clock that he couldn’t stop. It haunted him. Just like I’m sure it’s haunting you. And every other senior on the team who wants to keep playing after this year ends.”

  I felt instantly sick as my stomach churned.

  The accuracy of what he’d said, of my old teammate Cole’s words, were too much. They were fucking debilitating.

  “Yeah. I don’t know how to get that out of my head, and I’m afraid that if I play like I’m running out of time, I’ll play desperate. And that will lead to errors.”

  “Desperation is the enemy of confidence,” he said, and I stayed quiet. “It eats away at it until there’s nothing left.”

  I knew he was right. Baseball was a mental game, and if your head got messed with, it was hard to recover. Every single time you were up to bat, the pitcher was trying to crush your spirit. It was a silent battle between you and him with every pitch he threw. And only one of you won. You either hit his pitch or he struck you out.

  And each time you stepped onto the field, the batter or the base runner was trying to mess with your head to get you to screw up. Bobble a ball, make a throwing error, read the play wrong—the game had multiple outcomes, and you had to know them all.

  Basically, once someone was in your dome, it was really easy to let them stay there. Some lucky players had the ability to shake things off like they hadn’t even happened and move on. But most of us were affected by a bad at bat or an error on the field. We carried it with us into the following innings, like shoulder weights we couldn’t drop. Rattled was the term we ballplayers used.

  And I’d been rattled on more than one occasion. I knew it was a negative attribute for me as a player, and I wished I could let things go when I screwed up, but it was hard. I spent my time replaying what I’d done wrong, overanalyzing it to the point of exhaustion, but I made sure I never repeated the same mistake twice. It was a shitshow inside my head, and that was a bad thing.

  “You okay?” Coach Carter cut through my thoughts, and I realized I hadn’t heard anything he’d said.

  “Just overthinking everything.” I tried to laugh, but it came out strangled, and he offered me a strained smile.

  “There’s only so much you can control, Mac. There will always be a pitcher who wins the battle against you at the plate. Throws that curveball a little out of your reach and you go down swinging. And a hitter who slices it just right when you’re in the field and you miss making that great catch. All you can do is be the best player you’re capable of being. And be willing to get better.”

  “Thank you,” I said, my head nodding in agreement even though my biggest takeaway from that entire conversation was, I was right.

  There were no scouts asking or looking at me. If they were, Coach would know. And he would have told me. After the summer I’d had up in Washington, I’d figured I’d have at least one or two bites, but per usual, I was still hanging on to hopes and dreams that clearly weren’t fucking holding on to me.

  And So It Begins

  Sunny

  I eventually dragged myself out of bed, thankful that I could still smell Mac in the air around me. Leaning back down, I smashed my face into the pillow he’d slept on and breathed deep as the memories of last night crashing into me like a dream.

  But it wasn’t a dream.

  Mac had stayed the night. And it wasn’t just to get into my pants. He hadn’t even remotely gone there, and normally, I might have questioned what had gone wrong because guys usually at least TRIED to have sex with me but not this time.

  Not with him.

  Part of me wished instead of Mac leaving this morning, he’d stayed in bed with me, and then I could have spoiled him with pancakes and eggs and breakfast in bed, but once he’d told me no days off, I’d refused to argue or try to convince him otherwise. Mac needed to feel like he was giving baseball all of his time and energy, and as much as I wanted some of it as well, I was weirdly okay with taking a backseat.

  It wasn’t like he had blown me off for another girl or anything. Hayley’s face flashed in my mind, and I felt sick to my stomach, wondering if she had waited for him to get back to the baseball house all night long or not. The idea of her being anywhere near him made me violently angry, especially after learning what she’d done. I wasn’t the type of person who usually walked around, hating on other girls, but this one deserved it. She’d humiliated someone I cared about. And even if I hadn’t known Mac, what she had done was still horrible.

  My phone rang, and my stomach flipped as I wondered if it was him, hoping it was. Disappointment panged for a second when I realized that it was only my mom. I walked back into my room and pulled open the curtains to let light flood in.

  Plopping back down on my bed, I answered, my lips instantly curving into a smile when I heard the dogs barking in the background. I wasn’t sure why, but my mom’s self-imposed chaos always made me laugh.

  “You really don’t have to save every dog, you know?”

  “If I don’t, who will? Plus, Sun, you should see them! Oh my gosh, I have the fluffiest, waggiest Labs here right now,” she said in a funny voice, and I knew she was probably smooshing their faces while she talked.

  “You’re going to drive Dad to drink.”

  “Your father loves me. And he basically asked me to become a crazy pet person when he opened up a vet clinic! I mean, what does he expect? I’m only so strong,” she explained, and I decided that I couldn’t argue with her logic even if I wanted to. There would be no point.

  “So, what’s up?” I asked, reminding her that she’d called me.

  “Oh. Chloe! Get out of the sink! Seriously! Out, out!” she yelled, and I heard things clatter in the background.

  “Mom!” I shouted, wanting to get her attention.

  “Maybe I did bring too many home,” she said in a hushed whisper. “I don’t want them to hear me and get their feelings hurt.”

  Slapping my palm to my head, I dragged my hand across my face and waited for her to tell me whatever it was that she’d called for. At this rate, we’d be on the phone until dinner.

  “Mom!”

  “Sorry, sorry. Okay. I was calling about Thanksgiving.”

  “What?” I shook my head because it was still well over a month away. “It’s not even Halloween yet.”

  “I just wanted to make sure you were planning on coming home still.”

  “Where else would I go?” I asked because I hadn’t missed a single Thanksgiving at home since moving out. I even brought Danika home with me every year. It had become a tradition of sorts between us.

  “I don’t know. Maybe Danika’s? I was just asking since you two used to always come here and you always called it your holiday,” she reminded me.

  Danika and I’d started claiming the day as ours freshman year. No boys, no boyfriends—including her ex, Jared—and no other friends. Just us. And we looked forward to it each year. I hadn’t even thought about it yet because it was still so early, but I was sure once November 1 rolled around, I’d have gone through withdrawals or something.

  “Oh, well ...” It hadn’t occurred to me that I could go somewhere else ... not actually go to my parents’ for a holiday. But now that she’d brought up Danika’s name, I wondered if seeing her was even possible. That would be awesome, and now, it was all I wanted to do.

  “Oh, what?” my mom snarked, calling me out.

  “I don’t know, but now that you mention it, I kinda want to go see her.”

  “I knew it,” she snapped, making a clicking sound over the line.

  “You brought it up!” I shouted playfully. “And it’s not like I won’t be home for Christmas. I’d never miss Christmas.”