Page 148 of Renegade Rift
Bishop smiles, then opens his mouth to say something, but Carson beats him to it.
“Then what the hell are you waiting for? You’ve got to tell her.” He jumps to his feet, steps forward, and loops his arm in mine like we’re Dorthy and the fucking Scarecrow.
“Right now?” I mumble, tripping over my feet as I try to keep up with the way he’s tugging me toward the hall that leads to the dugout.
“The way I see it, you’ve got two choices.” Carson reasons, still dragging me by the arm. “Tell her or don’t, but you’ve got to fucking commit.”
My eyes dart around the clubhouse, looking for anyone to help get me out of this situation, but none of my teammates lift a finger.
“Carson, we have a game in an hour. I need to be focusing on that, not figuring out how to tell Juliet I want her to stay.”
“You can’t do one without the other.”
“Wait.” I yank my arm back. “Why are we heading to the field?”
Fans are already filling in their seats, and the last place I want to be is anywhere someone might ask a stupid question or tell an obscene lie about Juliet.
“Better reception up there.” Carson scoffs like it’s a stupid question altogether. “And it’s less noisy than the locker room.”
“I can’t make a phone call from?—”
Carson spins on me, eyes full of mischief. “Would you just fucking trust me?”
I’ve always known Carson was a bag of chaos, but he might just be losing it.
A disgruntled sigh heaves from my chest, and I don’t have the will to fight. Not when it could lead to getting Juliet back.
Lifting my hand, I gesture toward the tunnel. “Lead the way then.”
“Gladly.”
It doesn’t take long before we’re climbing the steps to the dugout, and I’m hit with the sounds of the stadium coming to life.
It might not be home, but there will always be something about stepping into a dugout or out on a field that sparks a fire in my soul.
Only, just like every other time on this trip, the spark doesn’t do more than flicker.
Carson jumps the steps two at a time, leading onto the warning track.
“Wait,” I protest. “Can’t I just call from the dugout?”
“Psssh. As if I’d let you make a declaration of love from the sidelines.”
I swear if there’s ever a day when Carson is in love, I can’t wait for payback. It will be swift. And fierce. And I’m ninety percent sure Bishop will be on board to help me.
Shaking my head, I follow him out to the third base coach’s box. He’s got a stupid ass grin stretched across his face.
I’m almost there when my eyes fall to the foul line. More specifically, the dirt.
My dirt.
Only instead of a blank canvas for me to work with, there’s already a word etched in delicate loops in the clay. Actually, it’s three words.
I love you.
Anger courses through me as I fist my hand at my sides and debate if I could get away with decking my teammate without anyone in the stadium noticing.
“This isn’t fucking funny, Carson. I’d never fuck with one of your superstitions.”
