Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
My body heaved from the run, adrenaline pounding, but in that moment, everything in me stilled.
It was always her.
Had always been her.
Helmet in hand, I pressed it against my chest and stared at her like she was the only person in the world—because she was.
She mouthed, I’m yours.
The locker room was chaos.
Reporters shouted. Cameras flashed. Ice chests dumped. Champagne popped.
But I barely heard any of it.
Even when Montana passed me a bottle and shouted, “You’re a legend, MacKenzie!” I nodded, handing the bottle off.
His chuckle was all I noticed before tunnel vision took over. She didn’t seem confused. Not a woman stuck in limbo between two men.
I barely remembered throwing on fresh clothes. Jeans. My team-issued hoodie. Hair wet, cleats swapped out for sneakers, I passed the press tunnel like a ghost and ducked out a side entrance where security buzzed around the crowd outside.
Past the inner gates, Natasha leaned against my McLaren in the player lot, arms folded, guarding something fragile inside her. That elusive heart she claimed to give to me and tore from my hands. The brim of her Dodger cap dipped low, but I’d know her silhouette anywhere. A thick, curvy frame. A quiet stillness surrounded her, as if the city had gone silent for this moment.
I slowed my steps. Not because I was tired. I wasn’t. Seeing her had brought me back to life. More adrenaline rushed through my veins than blood. But something about her presence demanded I not rush this.
I just walked—slow, like if I moved too fast, I might break the magnetic field pulling us together.
Then she looked up.
Not a word. Not a smile. Just eyes—soft, searching, locked on mine like gravity had its own rules when it came to us. I stopped in front of her, pulse thudding behind my ribs.
“You came,” I said, rough, yet lower than I expected. Damn. My voice always dropped a little when I set eyes on her. I sorta figured my mind had to reacclimate itself with her beauty.
My fingers brushed hers. She didn’t pull away.
“You hit that home run,” she whispered, “and something in me cracked open. Something I’d tried to bury.”
“Don’t.” My voice came out strangled. “Don’t bury anything with me, Tash.” I moved in slowly, letting the heat between us build. “Not pain. Not past. Please don’t close yourself off to me anymore.”
Her lips parted. She didn’t speak.
I cupped her jaw, my thumb brushing under her cheekbone.
“Natasha,” I murmured, “if I kiss you right now …”
She leaned in before I could finish. “Then kiss me.”
After we broke up, I read a book on trauma. Wondering where I’d gone wrong in those short hours after she’d broken the news. For the moment, my lips were a balm. Later? We’d discover more of how to heal her.
I dipped my head, lips brushing her once, then again, slower. Testing. Honoring. She melted into me with a soft sigh, her hands sliding up my chest, gripping the front of my hoodie. An anchor to the insane little laughter that fluttered from her lips. Our mouths fit in that effortless, aching way that made the world fall silent.
30
NATASHA
Never should’ve gone to the hospital with Lorenzo. I always buried the terror I felt during the day while visiting Doctor Ghannam. Today, that wasn’t the case. Lorenzo’s patient eyes, his tragic cousin, the cancer, the damn tree. None of it helped.
And somehow—after everything—I flew into Lachlan’s orbit. Literally. A quick call to the Dodgers owner and a helicopter landed me here.
As I’d watched him beneath the glow of stadium lights, my soul cracked wide open. Pop’s statement and Justice’s parting remarks on Taco Tuesday, which swirled through my mind since February, all found their rest.
I found my rest in Lachlan’s arms.
Could not stop kissing him.
Didn’t want to.
Because I was done pretending I didn’t need him like air.
His mouth moved over mine, slow but firm, tongue gliding against mine with a tenderness that shattered me. He kissed me like he knew the way I broke and still loved me through every fractured piece.
As my hands clutched his hoodie and my toes ached from holding myself up to offer more of my mouth to him, I breathed him in. Mint. Cedar. Yes, the cologne from Greece had gotten me through these past months. That scent of him undid me.
When we broke apart, my breath stuttered in my throat, and I leaned in again for another taste. If we stayed close enough, I could stop time. And, just maybe, I’d forget the ache in my toes from leaning upward too.
My fingers stayed balled onto the front of his hoodie like I was bracing myself against a storm, but he crashed over me. His presence. His patience. His love.
Justice’s parting words took one last spin through my mind: Now the question is, are you gonna keep running? Or are you gonna turn around and fight for the one man who’s fought for you all this time?