Two seconds ago, Mateo was ready to send me back up to the family suite, away from prying eyes. But after Torres shows up, he wants me to, what, twirl for him in one of the nation’s most famous stadiums?
“That’s a hard pass.” I cross my arms over my chest.
Mateo matches my stance and shrugs. “All right, I’ll wait.” He looks up and around me. “Not like I have seventy thousand people waiting for me to go and do my job or anything.” His smug smirk makes me want to march closer and slap it off his face.
And by slap, I mean kiss really,reallyhard.
I know my eyes are conveying every Spanish insult known to man, because it just kicks up his smile.
So without further ado, I open my arms, letting my unbuttoned jersey hang loosely off my body, then slowly turn in place.
“Happy now?” I say as I finally end my rotation, only to find Mateo’s mouth agape and Torres howling with laughter as he runs circles around us.
“Really, Isa? Really?” Mateo asks, seeming genuinely affronted by my jersey.
“She looks like a million bucks, man!” Torres comes and lands a wet smooch on my cheek. “Love you, Isa. Thanks for alwaysrepping the Torres household. Anna, quick. Take a picture of us so I can send it to Denise before they take my phone away.”
Anthony and I quickly pose, my back to the camera as he points to his last name on my jersey. Anna happily snaps more than enough photos.
I want to laugh at Mateo’s reaction, I really do, but the man seems honest-to-God bothered by the fact that I’m wearing my friend’s jersey.
The same jersey I went out and bought the second I heard the news that he was signing with the Monarchs. Because even though I was an absentee friend, I still wanted to find a way to support the people I love, even when I needed a little extra time to work on myself.
Coach Weston, who—holy hell—looks like a sexy, unkept lumberjack, yells for Martinez and Torres to “get their asses in the dugout.”
I grab Anna’s hand to walk us back to our seats, but not before I feel Mateo’s presence behind me. He whispers roughly, “This ain’t over.”
twenty-three
I’m an animal unleashed.
After the first three innings, I still can’t get the sight of Torres’s jersey on Isabella’s body out of my head.
And anyone stepping up to the plate tonight against me is paying for it.
That asshole Torres, too.
Who makes a show of shaking out his hand every time I throw a fastball into his glove. The permanent grin on his face lets me know he can handle much more. And I plan on giving it to him.
After striking out the last player, I make my way to the dugout. I tune out the sound of the fans and keep my head down to make sure I don’t seek her out in the crowd.
I take my usual seat and close my eyes as I chug water while my guys get themselves ready to bat.
I don’t need to open them to know that Coach Weston is hovering next to me.
“You wanna tell me what’s crawled up your ass lately?” He places his foot on the bench next to me and leans his crossed arms on his knees.
“Got any complaints, Coach?” I open my eyes and toss my water bottle into the nearest trash bin.
He raises a brow at my tone. I have a reputation for being respectful at all times, even in the heat of the moment when our whole season is at stake. So I’m sure my attitude has come out of left field for Coach. “You’re playing a hell of a game, but at this rate, you might end up injuring yourself before we have a chance to make it to the postseason. So yeah, I’d say cool it a bit before it’s too late.” He steps back to leave but pauses. “So, uh, I suggest you sort out whatever’s on your mind before we’re having a different type of conversation. For the team’s sake.” He nods his head to where I know Anna and Isabella are sitting.
I bristle, angry at myself for not being able to reel in my emotions while also annoyed that my coach is a fucking intuitive mastermind.
He walks away, and for a moment, I believe I’m about to get a reprieve, at least while my guys are up to bat. That is, until I seehercoming my way.
A legend in her own right. And someone I’m lucky my daughter will have as a role model.
Luisa Álvarez, the first and only female general manager in major league baseball.
