I guess I was a touch too optimistic.

  Oh, well. At least I have vacation days. A week of mayhem with Rose in Chicago should be enough to make me forget all about my shitty little life.

  Also, it’s baseball season. My favorite season.

  And no one is gonna ruin that for me.

  Home sweet home.

  I watch the city pass by from the backseat. The sun is setting, casting a powerful orange glow along the hard lines of the concrete jungle. Bright lights and crowded streets, but the neighborhood surrounding Chicago North University is less packed than usual for a Friday night. That’s spring break, though. Thousands of students return home or fly down to Florida or elsewhere.

  “First time in the city?” my cab driver asks, breaking the somewhat comfortable silence we’ve shared since the airport.

  “Oh, no,” I answer with a shake of my head. “No, I grew up here.”

  “Welcome home.”

  “Thanks.”

  As we drive past a familiar alleyway, my head swivels on its own. I catch sight of the bright red door for only an instant, but a warm feeling settles in my chest and it lingers until we arrive at Rose’s apartment.

  The trunk pops. “Need help with your bags?”

  “No,” I say as I exit the cab. “Thank you.”

  “You take care then.”

  “You, too.”

  I retrieve my lonely suitcase from the trunk and close it, giving the back a quick double-tap with my palm to let him know I’m done. He takes off, eager to head back toward the airport and catch his next fare.

  I roll my suitcase inside, promptly heading toward the stairwell. By the time I reach her floor, I’m winded. I place a hand on the wall, pausing to take a deep breath.

  Weird.

  I shake it off, throwing on a smile as I approach Rose’s door.

  Surprising my twin like this never gets old.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I stand up straight with a smile, waiting patiently for her to answer. There’s a quiet shuffle beyond the door and my chest leaps with excitement.

  Three… two…

  The door opens. My smile dips a little.

  John Kirby grins. He stands nearly a foot taller than me, his toned, muscular chest on full display, along with the three Greek letters tattooed along his right abs. Alpha Douchey Xi, or whatever.

  “Hello, Daisy,” he says.

  “Halfback,” I say, eying his sweatpants. Of course they’re gray. “Where’s my sister?”

  “She’s busy.”

  I raise a sharp brow.

  He clears his throat. “Hey, Rose,” he calls over his shoulder. “We have a guest.”

  We?

  “We do?” she asks, her voice deep in the apartment.

  I hear her approach from her bedroom down the hall, quickly raising my smile again before she reaches the door.

  Rose pokes her head around his wide shoulder and gasps. “Daisy!”

  “Hey, sister!” I say.

  I throw open my arms and she plows against me, nearly knocking both of us over.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks as she detaches. “I thought I was picking you up from the airport tomorrow.”

  “I thought I’d surprise you instead.”

  She laughs. “Well… you did.”

  I glance down at her outfit or… lack thereof. She’s in a scarlet-colored robe made of sheer fabric, her black bra and panties visible through it.

  “I can see that,” I say.

  Rose crosses her arms over her chest, prompting me inside the apartment with the careful flick of her wrist as she backs out of the hallway. “Right, well, John and I were just…”

  I count the lit candles scattered around the living room. “Studying chemistry?” I ask.

  She chuckles nervously. “In a way.”

  “Yeah, we’re in the middle of something, so…” John says, smiling. “Go away.”

  “John.” Rose slaps his arm and turns to me. “No, it’s fine. You can stay.”

  I fix him with a playful glare. “No, it’s all right. I’d be happy to circle the block. Three to five minutes should do it, right, Johnny?”

  “Heh,” he grunts.

  Rose spreads her arms, signaling for the two of us to stop before we begin. “It’s fine,” she says, her polite smile digging in as she covers her chest again. “We are happy to have you and will reschedule our study session. Right, John?”

  There’s that we again.

  “Right.” John nods, though he’s not that thrilled about it. “Welcome, Daisy. Happy you’re here. A day early.”

  I give him a thumbs up. “Great!” I say.

  Rose offers him a sweet smile and, exactly as she planned, he releases a loving sigh. He reaches out, pulling her in to plant a kiss on her temple.

  “I’ll go put a shirt on,” he says.

  “Thank you,” she says, her voice oh-so-sweet.

  He walks off down the hall. Rose waits for him to disappear before spinning to face me again, bouncing on her toes.

  “You’re here!” she says, squealing.

  “I’m here!” I say.

  “Are you hungry? We have leftover pizza.”

  “Yes, please.”

  She skips toward the kitchen. “Thanks for saving me the drive. O’Hare is a damn mess over spring break.”

  “I knew you’d appreciate that.”

  “Oh!” She opens the refrigerator and slides a pizza box off the top shelf. “Since you’re here early, we can go to tomorrow’s Bearhawks game. Leave Sunday for rest as the Lord intended.”

  “Or…” I tease, “we can go to both games. Eh?” I grin. “Double the chances of getting our dugouts stuffed by some sexy second baseman.”

  Rose starts to laugh, then zips it as John materializes fully clothed from the hallway.

  “Get your whats stuffed?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” Rose says with an innocent sing-song voice. “Pizza?” she offers him.

  He snatches a cold slice, then backs away, his glare focused on me.

  I grin, the happy intruder.

  I stare at the ceiling. This couch is old, but large and comfortable. Rose is sleeping silently in her bedroom, as is John. The neighborhood is also quiet, thanks to half of her neighbors being out of town partying on a beach somewhere. I haven’t had caffeine since before I boarded my flight at four o’clock — eastern time.

  So, why can’t I sleep?

  I lean forward, reaching for my phone resting on the coffee table. After a few failed attempts in the dark, I snatch it and check the time. Just after one in the morning.

  With a sigh, I scroll, hoping to find something to distract myself with. Cat videos. Dumb memes. Porn, perhaps. Nothing is off the table when a good night’s sleep is on the line.

  Stay with me.

  A warm shiver dances down my spine. It’s not the first time Joey the bartender has popped into my late night thoughts since our night together and it probably won’t be the last. Of course, it’s different tonight. Unlike a chilly night alone in Boston, there’s a chance he’s here. There’s a chance I could — oh, I don’t know — pop on down to Bruno’s again just to say hi.

  “Hands on the headboard,” he says, his lips grazing my ear.

  I obey, my toes curling as he fucks me from behind.

  I snap out of the memory, but the space between my thighs is already full of bad ideas. Or good ideas, depending on your perspective.

  I swipe open my maps app. Bars nearby. Search.

  Bruno’s… closed.

  I exhale. Damn. Must be shut down for spring break. The only other option would be to go to his place, but I’m self-aware enough to know how creepy that would be unannounced at two in the morning.

  Nope. Looks like I’m staying in tonight and watching the shadows dance on the walls of the apartment my sister secretly shares with her boyfriend.

  I abandon my phone on the table with a sigh.

  At least there’s baseball tomorrow.

  Go, Bearhawks.

  CHAPTER 6

  DAISY

  It’s a perfect day for baseball.

  The sun is shining. The clouds are puffy, white, and minimal against a bright blue sky. I fill my lungs with stadium air, each breath a mixture of familiar smells. Freshly cut grass. Sizzling hot dogs. Pine tar. I close my eyes, letting it all blend with the voices echoing throughout the stadium from our seats. Usually, I’d prefer a spot a little closer to home plate. However, being out here at the far end of the diamond, surrounded by excited Northies and locals, is just as sweet.

  I love baseball season.

  Nothing is gonna ruin—

  “Who is Home Run Hunter?”

  Except maybe John Kirby.

  I glare at him two seats down from me. Rose sits between us, a valuable buffer, but the mere sound of his voice is enough to get on my nerves this afternoon.

  Last night, he was there.

  This morning, he was still there.

  At breakfast, there he was.

  And now, here he is, invading my long anticipated sister-sister time with my twin.

  “I don’t know,” Rose answers him, giving me a nudge with her elbow. “Hey, baseball expert, who is Home Run Hunter?”

  I sigh. “Hunter Novak. Chicago North Bearhawks. Number 29.”

  “You know that from memory?” she asks, tentatively impressed.

  I point at the homemade sign three rows behind us, emblazoned with gold and blue glitter, Chicago North’s colors.

  I HEART Hunter Novak! #29.

  She smiles as she reads it. “Oh.”

  John glances around the bleachers. “Well, he’s very popular,” he says, eying the myriad signs held high above people’s heads. “This place is packed.”

  “Not as popular as you,” Rose teases as she wraps her arms around his bicep. “Not nearly as handsome, either…”

  “How do you know?” he asks, milking the attention.

  “I just know.” She hugs him tightly. “Ain’t no one hotter than my halfback.”

  I roll my eyes as I reach for my phone.

  Rose kisses his cheek, then looks at me again. “So, what’s the deal with Home Run Hunter?” she asks. “Is he new?”

  “No,” I answer, skimming the first article I found. “This is his fourth season with the Bearhawks. Plays second base. He hit four home runs in the first game this season and three in every game since.” I cant my head. “Dang.”

  “That sounds… impressive?”

  “It’s legendary.”

  “Is he cute?”

  “I don’t know.” I scroll for pictures, but there are none. “Apparently, he’s not one for interviews. Doesn’t like the spotlight.”

  “I can respect that,” she says, no doubt thinking about the kiss she and John shared on live TV.

  “With stats like his, though, it’s going to be hard to hide for too long,” I say.

  John furrows his brow, clearly jealous of the crowd screaming a name other than his. “How have I not heard of him before?” he asks.

  “Good question,” I say, pocketing my phone. “I mean, you actually go to this school. You probably work out with him daily at the rec center.”

  “Nah.” John raises his arm, flexing hard enough for his bicep to test his T-shirt. “When I’m there, it’s just me and the boys here.”

  I roll my eyes again. “Shocker.”

  Rose clears her throat. “Hey, Johnny, would you go grab us some snacks and cold beverages before the game starts?”

  Busted.

  “Sure.” He hops up. “Be right back.”

  “Diet for me!” she adds sweetly as she releases his hand. “Thank you!”

  She waits until he’s out of earshot, then spins to face me.

  “Okay, what’s up?” she asks, her sweet voice dead and gone now.

  “Nothing,” I say with a shrug.

  “Not nothing. You’ve had an attitude all day.”

  I stare at the diamond below. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You—”

  “Please rise for our National Anthem!”

  Rose sighs as we stand up out of our seats, our right hands coming to rest on our chests as a woman belts from the pitcher’s mound. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she says for my ears only. “Ever since last night, you’ve been pretty short.”

  “So?”

  “And terse.”

  “Don’t those mean the same thing?”

  “And crabby. Or just plain mean to John.”

  “I have not been mean to John.”

  “Do you not like him or something?” she asks.

  “Of course I like him. I went out of my way to get you two back together, as I recall…”

  “Well, you have a weird way of showing it.”

  “Rose, this was supposed to be our spring break,” I say. “It was going to be me and you going to ball games, eating our weight in chili dogs, and finding some ripped basemen to invade our dugouts.”

  “My dugout is taken.”

  “Yeah, no shit. And he’s always around.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Daisy. He’s a part of my life,” she says. “He’s my boyfriend. I love him and we—”

  “And you’re living together?” I say over her.

  Rose parts her lips to speak, then stops.

  Busted.

  “You are, aren’t you?” I ask.

  “Okay…”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Yes, we’re living together,” she says.

  “For how long?” I ask.

  She hesitates. “Since right after Christmas.”

  My jaw drops. “Seriously?”

  “He was staying with me — temporarily — while the Delta Xi house was being fumigated.”

  “Oh, well, that’s not a surprise,” I quip, my nose curling at the memory of that frat house.

  “Then, when it came time for him to move back in, we kinda…” She smiles, her eyes shining. “I don’t know, we just really enjoyed spending that much time together, so we made it permanent.”

  “After, what, three months of dating?” I ask.

  “I know. It was fast, but—“

  “Did you forget the fact that the only reason he banged you in the first place was to win a bet?”

  “It wasn’t a bet. It was a challenge.”

  “That doesn’t make it sound any better, Rose!”

  She exhales hard, briefly glancing at the field as the singer’s voice echoes around us. “We really should not be doing this here,” she says.

  “Does Mom know?” I ask.

  “Daisy…”

  “Does she know?”

  “Yes, she knows.”

  I scoff, genuinely hurt. “You told her, but you didn’t tell me?”

  “I was going to tell you today when I picked you up from the airport, but you showed up last night instead.”

  “Well, I’m oh-so-sorry I ruined your little surprise. Next time, I’ll just stay home.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t do the dramatic thing. You sound like Mom.”

  I gasp. “Rose!”

  “Well, you do!”

  I lower my hand, noticing that the rest of the crowd has started sitting down as the away team rushes the field from their dugout. “Whatever, the game is starting,” I say.

  “Now batting for Chicago North — second baseman, Hunter Novak!”

  Northies leap to their feet again, waving their signs and chanting his nickname. I glance at the field, watching as he walks out of the dugout with his helmet on and bat in hand, moving slowly with his head up to milk every second.

  Rose sits as well, but she stays facing me. “What is this really about, Daisy?” she asks me.

  “You’ve known the guy for less than a year,” I say as Home Run Hunter straddles home plate.

  Hm.

  A lefty.

  “Our toothbrushes share a wall socket,” Rose says. “It’s not like we’re engaged. And—” She chuckles. “Need I mention Bodie Flenderson?”

  “Bodie Flenderson?”

  “You lived with him for nearly a year after only dating him for six weeks!”

  My mouth sags as my words stumble. “That… was…”

  Rose tilts her head, vindicated.

  “The… exact same situation,” I admit with a sigh.

  “So, I know you don’t actually care about this, Daisy,” she says, absolutely right. “There’s something else bothering you, so go ahead and say it.”

  The pitcher launches a curve ball. Home Run Hunter doesn’t fall for it and lets it sail right into the catcher’s mitt. I try to focus on the game instead of Rose’s stare burning my skin.

  She digs an elbow into my ribs.

  I flinch. “Ouch!”

  “What is it?” she asks.

  “You mean the pain in my side or the one in my ass?”

  She heaves an impatient sigh. “Fine. Be an asshole.”

  “Okay, fine. I’m miserable, okay? I’m pissed off that you’re out here at the perfect school with the perfect job and the perfect guy who’s just perfect for you. You’re the damn golden child who Mom loves and gloats to her friends about while I’m all the way out in Boston being forgotten. I have nothing and no one and nobody even cares.”

  Rose blinks. “Daisy, what are you talking about?”

  “Nothing,” I say, turning forward. “I made it all up. Watch the game.”

  “No, Daisy—”

  The Northies scream, voices crying out around us. All eyes look upward, trailing a ball flying straight toward our section.

  “Home Run Hunter! Home Run Hunter!”

  A man a few rows down raises his mitt into the air, preparing to catch it. The ball skims the edge of his thumb and slides free… angled straight toward my head.

  Ouch.

  I wince and slide out of my seat onto the rock-solid concrete.

  “Daisy!”

  Rose cries out for help. Black pain takes over my senses. The sun dims from my vision as I pass out at her feet.

  Ugh.

  Perfect.

  CHAPTER 7

  HUNTER

  “So, you’re the kid everyone’s talking about, huh?” the nurse says as she leads me down the hall. “Home Run Hunter?”