Page 112 of Renegade Rift
“He’s my boyfriend.”
My jaw drops. “Are you serious?”
How did I not know this?
Probably because I’ve been living under a rock the last year, but still I feel like this is something Ford should have mentioned at some point.
“What I’m saying is, you can’t always control who you fall for.” She shakes her head and laughs. “In fact, he’s my reason for needing therapy. That man has more feelings than a teenage girl, but I love him.”
I snort a laugh in return. “That is undeniably the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
Willow leans in like she’s going to tell me a secret and whispers, “More romantic than Ford’s little declaration on the third base line?”
My cheeks turn crimson, and I fiddle my hands nervously in my lap. “That’s not—he’s not—it’s just what he calls me.”
“Uh huh.” She smiles, then startles like she’s had an epiphany. “Gosh, is this what Carson felt like when he could see Bishop and I were two idiots in love?”
“What?” I’m pretty sure she just called Ford and me idiots, but I’m not about to question it.
“Never mind.” Willow reaches over and this time doesn’t hesitate to take my hand in hers. “Regardless of what you and Ford are, what matters is you’re just as much a Renegade as he is. And whatever you need, we’ve got you.”
I’m a Renegade.
I wonder if she realizes the irony of a renegade being a traitor by definition. But maybe there is comradery among rebels.
“I—uh—thank you.”
“Welp.” Willow claps her hands together. “As much as I’d love to hide out here and chat for the rest of the game, I’ve got to go schmooze some board members in the hopes they’ll support my million-dollar accessibility parking lot. But I’m glad we got to talk, and I put my number in your phone too. So, whatever you need just call.” She stands and slides down the row before turning back. “Oh. I meant to ask you. Do you like to read?”
Stunned by her calm, business badassery, it takes me a moment to realize she’s waiting for an answer. “I haven’t had much time recently, but I enjoy a romance from time to time.”
“Perfect. I’m going to text you when we have our next team book club night.”
“I can’t wait.”
And even though there are tears filling my eyes, I’m shocked to find I mean it. A year ago, I couldn’t comprehend having this. Then Paige found me. Now I have Ford, Soph, the D&D gang and soon to be Willow and the other WAGs. Having friends is a profound part of life I didn’t realize I needed more of.
When I finish blinking away the tears that are more happy than sad, I look back down at the third baseline to make sure those four letters weren't a dream.
But they’re still there. And so is the man who wrote them.
He’s looking up at the suite, and I swear, even though there are thousands of people in this stadium, he’s able to pick me out of them. My heart flutters when his lips stretch into a smile, and he looks down at his word in the dirt, then back up at me.
Then he’s back to business, focused on the next play.
The interaction doesn’t last more than fifteen seconds, but it’s seared into my heart forever.
Carson makes the pitch, and the batter from Tampa hits a line drive right in the space between Ford and the teammate next to him.
My breath catches in my lungs as Ford pushes off and dives for the ball, making an incredible mid-air catch for out number three.
The crowd goes wild, and out of nowhere Paige is at my side, hugging me.
“That’s some guy you got there.”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
Because while the whole stadium is cheering for Ford, he couldn’t care less. He lifts the ball and points at the suite, only having eyes for me.
