Embrace (Evolve Series #2) (16 page)

Parker’s just cracking up over my dating stories.
Hayden’s snuggled up to his side, trying hard not to laugh with him and failing
miserably.

“Who was the pretty blonde with you at the funeral?
She looked nice, and not with child,” she says, somehow with a straight face.

The diamond on her finger twinkles as she rubs her
hand on Parker’s thigh, always touching him in some way. He’d done it—he asked
her to marry him, move home with him, and she said yes. She’ll be finishing
school online, helping him run the farm, and taking his name soon. I’d love to
tell them again to slow down, that they’re too young, but what the hell do I
know? I think my glowing track record speaks for itself—I know jack shit.

“That was Whitley. She’s a good friend, a sweet
girl.”

“Well, she’s very pretty, and it was nice of her to
come and support you.” Hayden smiles, her eyes mischievous.

“Yeah, she’s beautiful, and awesome, and…” I shut my
mouth before I say too much, grabbing the remote to concentrate on the TV.

“Not Laney?” Parker asks.

“That’s not even it. Laney’s happy, and some days I
don’t even think about it. Can you believe that?” I ask him, my eyes big with
my own shock. It’s true. I never thought I’d see the day, but some days I don’t
think about Laney.

“Evan, you’re so handsome. Sorry, honey,” she kisses
Parker’s cheek and gives him a sheepish smile, “but you are. And kind. I don’t
understand the problem.”

“Evan’s a romantic,” Parker jokes, “always has been.
No hit it and quit it for that one.” He tilts his bottle towards me. “He’s a big
softie. He wants to hear music and see stars when
she
walks in a room.
Don’t ya, Ev?”

“You mean like what happens to you when I walk in a
room?” Hayden glares at him teasingly, her lips pursed, just daring him to deny
it.

“Exactly like that,” he growls, diving into her
lips.

“Fuck off,” I mumble, knowing he’s right…and no
longer paying attention to me.

Hayden wrestles him off her, catching her breath to
turn to me. “Well, what do you hear when Whitley walks in a room?”

I laugh to myself just thinking about it. “Actually,
I usually do hear music, because she’s usually humming or singing to herself.”

“Ahhh.” Hayden’s clearly a romantic as well.

As fun as this is, I’m no fool, I know how to get
out of the hot seat
and
give Parker the proverbial finger. “So, Hayden,
tell me about your wedding.”

How ya like them apples, Park?
I can just sit
and nod, but Parker will have to interact while his starry-eyed girl rambles on
and on.

Evan wins!!!

Finally.

Chapter 19

Third Base

~Evan~

T
oday is the first conference softball game
for the Lady Eagles, hosted at home. I do love to watch some ball, but I
probably wouldn’t have gone, kinda awkward despite the rest of the “Crew”
thinking we’re all cool…but Laney had arranged it so Whitley will be singing
the National Anthem.

The newfound
whatever
between Whitley and
Laney mystifies me; if only it were that easy for me. Sure, I miss Laney, and care
about her, and have even managed to be around her amicably a few times, but it
still jabs me in the gut sometimes. It may always. But the whole group is going
to this game and Whitley personally asked me to come watch her sing, so I’m
going.

She sings beautifully, her voice, melodic and
captivating, ringing out across the park. And I must say, to only myself,
seeing her stand out on the mound in a ball cap, jersey, and little shorts…oh
boy. My whole “date anyone besides her” plan seems like a real jackass one
right about now.

“Pssst, Evan!” I hear from my left and look over to
see a nervous Laney standing at the fence. She begs me over with a “hurry, come
here” hand, so I make my way down the bleachers and over to her. “He’s got me
playing third, Evan. I don’t play third. What’s he thinking?” she asks, her
voice panicked.

I chuckle at her, never understanding her lack of
faith in herself; she’s an amazing ball player. Third isn’t her most practiced point,
but she can do it
if
she doesn’t psych herself out.

“Laney, you could play third in your sleep. What are
you so worried about?”

“This is college ball, Evan. I don’t move fast
enough for third. Why wouldn’t he put me on first and Cassidy at three? Oh my
God, Evan, I’m gonna make a fool of myself in the first game.” She rests her
head against the fence in premature defeat.

“Hey,” I poke her in the forehead through the fence,
“look at me.”

She slowly lifts her head, eyes rimmed with doubt.

“Knock it off. You are a great baller, Laney. Get
your ass out there and make it happen. I mean it.”

She nods firmly, gritting her teeth, and heads for
the dugout. I go back to my seat in the bleachers, Sawyer to my left and
Whitley now settled in at my right. We’re all kinda clumped in a group; Dane,
Tate and Bennett right behind us and Zach on the other side of Sawyer.
One
big, happy family.

“Down and ready, three!”

I turn quickly—I know that voice. Laney’s dad is
here somewhere. I look around, but I can’t see him.

“What was that about?” Dane’s voice comes from
behind me.

“Huh?” I turn around, not sure if he’s talking to
me…yeah right, of course he’s talking to me.

“Laney; what’d she need? And why’s she look like
she’s seen a ghost?”

“Oh,” I shrug, “she’s worried about playing third
base. It’s not her usual spot.”

“Hmm…” is his only reply, so I turn back around.

L
aney didn’t get a single ball hit to her
in the first, but she did lay a good tag on an out, putting the Eagles up to
bat. She’s fourth in the lineup—cleanup—smart coach. Smart pitcher, too, done
her homework, ‘cause she draws the swing and miss from Laney on a high, outside
first pitch.

Seven pitches later and Laney’s still battling,
fouling them off like a champ. Whitley’s nails are probably bleeding she’s
biting them so much and Bennett’s in tears, clearly not used to watching
softball.
Good God, it’s gonna be a long season.

I nudge my elbow backwards into Dane’s leg and he
leans down to me. “Yell at her to quit dropping her hands,” I tell him. “Hurry.”
He stalls, so I elbow him again. “Now!”

“Quit dropping your hands!” He cups his hands around
his mouth and yells, and I hold in a laugh. He has no idea what he just said or
why.

I should have made him yell something stupid and
look like a fool.

Not really.

I think.

The next pitch is a change, which falls short, and
Laney’s almost out of time. This at-bat has surely met its shelf life when the
next one comes right down the middle, just a smidgen low. I take back what I
said before.
Not smart, Pitch.

“That’s gone,” I say to the group, almost
subconsciously.

Crack!

I don’t even bother watching it. I stand and cheer,
grabbing Whitley’s shirt so she doesn’t fall down the bleachers in her bouncy
celebration. Sawyer’s got two fingers in his mouth, whistling, and I finally
spot Jeff in the crowd, a proud smile plastered across his face. Laney just hit
a two-run homer in her first college at-bat. No one, not even Kaitlyn, can ever
take that from her, and my heart feels like it’s about to burst with pride.

Laney just went yard
. I couldn’t be happier
for her.

“Thanks,
coaches
!” she yells at Dane and me as
she runs past us to home plate.

I don’t turn around and look at Dane, but I do
manage to hear him over the crowd as he leans in to thank me.

“That was so fun!” Whitley shrieks, wrapping her
arms around me in a hug. “I hope she does that every time!”

“I don’t know about that.” I hug her back. “It
wouldn’t be as special if she did it all the time, right?”

She pulls back and scrunches up her nose. “No, it’d
be cool every time.”

“Yeah, I guess it would,” I agree, taking her hand
to sit her back down beside me. “Now watch the rest of the game, happy girl.”

Avery strikes out two batters later, so our group
goes from rambunctious and pumped up to solemn in a flash, but we do all laugh
when Zach turns around and slaps Dane upside the leg. “Where’s all the tips for
my girl, huh?”

It’s the bottom of the fourth when time stops.

I see the hit, and where it’s heading, my body
bracing in tension until she plays it through. But instead, I see her misstep.
She was nervous about playing third, psyched herself out and misjudged the
bounce. The harsh smack echoes, sickeningly, and Laney drops like a rock, face
forward in the dirt.

“Time!” The ump screams.

Barreling down the bleachers, I make it to the
fence, searching frantically for a way in when a hand lands on my shoulder.

“Stay back, boy, let them check her out.” Jeff. So
calm, so collected. “She’ll be fine, just a punk knot. It got a bounce first,
took the heat off.”

Then why’s she lying face down in the dirt?

It’s six hours, I swear it is, before she gets up
and her coaches help her in to the dugout. Everyone claps and the players rise
from their knees, resuming the game. Jeff and I stay put, right along the fence
at the side of the dugout, waiting for answers. A few minutes later, she walks
around the side to us and I can finally breathe, seeing her face, walking. I
know she’s going to be all right.

Dane has his arm around her shoulder, guiding her to
us as she holds a huge bag of ice to her face, completely covering one eye. How
the hell did he get to her? Past us?

“Hey,” she grumbles, “just a shiner. Nose already
stopped bleeding.” She pulls down the bag of ice to show us and I hiss with my
flinch. The inside of her eye is no longer white, but blood red, as in every
blood vessel has popped. It doesn’t look good at all, and I’m a little green
around the gills thinking of how much pain she must be in, but her dad softly tisks
beside me.

“That’s gonna be a nice one, Slugger. Can you see all
right?”

“Well, since the lid is hanging
over
my eye,
it’s a little tricky,” she tries to smile, “but it didn’t hurt my actual
vision.”

“Just misread the hop. All nervous, huh?” he asks
with one know-it-all brow raised. He’s probably about to tell her to rub some
dirt on it and get back out there. “Gonna be scared to play there from now on?”

“No, sir,” she answers quickly, her voice determined.

“Good girl. Probably won’t ever happen again, so no
need to shy away. Damn nice hit by the way.” He pats her shoulder.

“Thanks, Daddy. You proud?”

“Damn proud, kiddo, damn proud. Who’s the hardest
hitting, toughest girl I know?”

“Me?”

“You.” He nods. “I’m gonna head out, beat the rain
home seeing as how you’re done for the night.” He kisses the top of her head. “Love
you, girl. Call me tomorrow, let me know you’re all right.”

Dane watches the whole conversation with a silent,
stunned expression. I can see how it’d appear her dad is a little blasé about
the whole thing, but that’s just the way he is; always has been.

“You sure you’re okay?” I ask her, hands stuffed in
my pockets. I’m not even sure why I’m still standing here; she’s taken care of.

“I’m fine,” she smiles at me, “thanks, Evan.”

“What the fuck? She okay?” Sawyer says, too loudly,
when I make it back to my seat.

Bennett and Whitley crowd in, faces anxious, wanting
to hear my reply. Even Zach looks nauseous; yep—could’ve been your girl just as
easily.

“She’s fine, up walking and talking. She’ll have one
helluva black eye and probably a headache for a few days, but she’s okay.
Dane’s down there with her. I’m surprised they let him in the dugout.”

“Are you kidding?” Tate snorts. “He jumped that
fence and pushed people out of his way; no one
let
him do anything. I’m
surprised he hasn’t landed Life Flight in the damn parking lot to whisk her to
a specialist by now.”

Bennett scowls his way and gives him an impish slap.
“Hush! I thought it was sweet.”

“There they are right there.” Zach points, and we
all look over to see Dane and Laney walking across the parking lot. “Where are
they going?”

“I’m telling ya, he’s taking her to the doctor,”
Tate chimes in again.

“He can’t, the team trainer has to check her for a
concussion first. He can’t just sweep in and do it,” I argue.

“Wanna bet?” Tate challenges me.

Oh, please.
Mr. Rich and Fabulous may be able
to do a lot of things, but he can’t override the rules of collegiate sports.

“Looks like the softball team will be getting all
new equipment,” Sawyer smirks, “and ass cushions for these shitty bleachers, I
hope.”

There’s no way I believe college coaches and Dane
struck up a “dugout deal.” This is ridiculous. But then again, he did just
whisk her to his car; that cannot be denied.

Whatever. I’m sick of thinking about it. At least
she’s taken care of.