I just didn’t have a constant hard-on for it like my other teammates. I didn’t want to make it my career. But I was good at it, and I could stand being on a team from season to season.

Working solo on an engine or a custom paint job had been my passion. My dream. My lifeline. Until the summer after high school.

“McGreevy, let Smithy take a few rounds of practice,” Coach yelled from the dugout. Then he trained his eyes on me. “You good, Quinn?”

I stood to give my knees a break and nodded. Coach had complimented me privately on my dedication to the game. Said he admired my drive. If only he knew I was carrying the load of two players. Me, and one who should have been a star pitcher on his team.

I looked up at the stands just as my parents were headed to their seats. They came to a home game every few weeks. Not to actually see their only child pay, but to keep up appearances. My father wanted it to look like he actually cared about his family while he tried to renew his seat in the House of Representatives. He was gunning for senator next and had some scary pipe dream to make it all the way to the presidency.

Mom loved being a politician’s wife, so sometimes my only escape from that cold and empty home had been to go to Sebastian’s house. His family was in politics, too. My father had helped Bastian’s father win his seat in a landslide. The difference was: They were warm, open, real.

As Smithy took the mound, I gave the bleachers one last glance. Sebastian’s mom waved at me and I tipped my head in her direction. The grief was still apparent in her eyes and the lines of her face almost three years later. She was hanging in there, trying to make it day-to-day, and that killed me.

When I saw Amber was with them today, my throat closed up. I struggled to swallow.

I hoped she wouldn’t try to corner me again. I had no desire to talk to her, to have a powwow about what had happened that night. She insisted she needed to talk and I kept saying no. I knew she was only trying to alleviate her own guilt.

She was a pretty girl with her red hair and tight body. I may have had feelings for her a couple of years ago, but there was no way that I did now.

But she was still trying to keep up appearances with Bastian’s parents. Showing up here, pretending like she and Sebastian hadn’t been about to break up, that that one night hadn’t changed everything.

Every single fucking thing.

Could I blame her, though? I was pretending, too.

Still, I wanted nothing to do with her.

I noticed my frat brothers on the other side of the stands as well. They attended the home games to show school spirit with our sister sorority. But this time I zeroed in on Ella, sitting next to Brian’s girlfriend, Tracey. That was nothing new. She’d spent a few Saturdays at this ball field with Joel and his friends.

Her long hair was pulled up in a ponytail, showcasing her cheekbones, and she wore a red Titans T-shirt. I pictured her dressed in that top with nothing else on, except maybe those same pink panties. Shit, since when did I start fantasizing about Joel’s sweet and innocent girlfriend?

I had always thought Ella was nice to look at, but something had changed the night in that bathroom. I needed to stop thinking about how she’d felt in my arms or the throaty noises she’d made when I’d placed the wet rag on her neck. I was being stupid. I knew she was off-limits. And if there was any bigger reminder of how unavailable she was, I had Amber here as a recap. She should have been a crude prompt to keep my thoughts and hands to myself.

Maybe Ella couldn’t ignore how the air had become charged between us that night, either. She’d sneaked glances at me out of the corner of her eye, not wanting to appear too obvious. And she’d followed my gaze to Sebastian’s parents, sitting with Amber. Maybe she was trying to figure it all out, and maybe she wondered if Amber was my girlfriend. She would be so wrong.

Ella was not Amber. And Joel and I were definitely not best friends.

But why the hell did I care when she was still dating that asshole? Besides, eventually she would realize she was worth more than that. And I certainly was not more. That thought was like an ice bucket being thrown at me.

Soon enough the first inning began, along with the music from the speakers. The lead batter was winding up in front of me, and I got lost in my job, gesturing to McGreevy which pitch to throw, based on Coach’s signals and the batter’s weaknesses.

But by the third batter, and no outs, I realized that McGreevy was being inflexible as shit tonight, calling off most of my suggestions. But I could be stubborn, too. I signaled for a time-out and jogged to the mound.

I placed my glove over my face so the other team couldn’t read my lips. “What the fuck, McGreevy?”

“You want to know what the fuck’s up? . . . You’re calling shitty signals tonight.”

“Yeah, then why are there runners on first and second?”

He toed the dirt on the mound in an angry pattern. “Because of your terrible calls?”

“My calls?” Man, he could be full of himself sometimes. “You’re doing whatever the hell you want up there. Get your head out of your ass.”

After a few seconds of our glaring at each other, Coach joined us at the mound.

“You two better work it out or I’m changing pitchers,” he said. “McGreevy, trust Quinn’s calls. He’s good at his job.”

That got McGreevy fired up. He hated how much confidence Coach had in me. To be honest, so did I. I was a nobody, lower than the earth under my feet. And someday he’d realize it. But for now I could pretend. I could forget how unworthy I really was.

After the game, which we won by two runs, my parents put on a show by waiting for me next to Bastian’s mom and dad. I waved to a couple of my frat buddies and then walked over to the fence.

“Nice game, Son.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

My mom leaned in and hugged me. She’d always touched me more when others were around. I’d desperately craved it from her as a kid. Thankfully, I’d been raised by nurturing nannies who gave a shit. And my mom’s sister, Aunt Gabby. She was the best.

She’d pick me up and take me places with her own kids. My cousins’ house was chaotic and loud and I loved every minute of it. It helped me blend in—even become invisible if I wanted—instead of standing out and acting appropriately as the politician’s son. Especially when I was dragged to political events night after friggin’ night.

Amber tried catching my eye but I refused to look at her. She attended a local community college and worked in her parents’ bakery. I didn’t know what I’d do if she attended the same university. It was hard enough avoiding her now.

The truth of the matter was: I was still angry with her about what went down. And frankly, I was afraid of what she wanted to say. That she’d blame me, like she did that night. I’d only ever read one of her e-mail rants before canceling my account. That had been enough for me.

“Thanks for coming,” I said to Bastian’s mom and dad. Damn, they were loyal to me and to this university. They still donated to the fraternity and Bastian’s dad still attended alumni events. I knew they came to my games to try to hold on to some piece of their son. I could see it in their eyes, feel it in their hugs.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Sebastian’s mom said, and it cut me up inside. All I wanted to do was get the hell out of there and drink myself into oblivion or drive into a fucking ditch. But then who would they come see play? What would keep them going? “We’ll come whenever we can.”

After I showered and changed, I trudged to the team bus. Girlfriends and baseball groupies were lined up in their tight jeans and short skirts, waiting on different players. The guys looking to get laid that night would tell certain girls to head up to Zach’s Bar near the university or they’ d just meet them at their cars in the TSU parking lot.