true.” Mac nodded. “I do. Even if I’m making out with Bambi.” He stopped and shot us each a look. “Real name. Swear. I still see everything that’s going on around us. And I hear everything too.”
Mac was hinting at something, but I wasn’t sure what.
“You have something to say?” I figured I’d get straight to the point instead of beating around the bush. We weren’t a bunch of chicks here, leaving hints for one another to decipher.
“I’m not sure,” Mac started, taking a single step closer to me and lowering his voice in case anyone else came in. “I just overheard Logan talking about the girl who hit you. Christina, right? And I heard your name.” He paused. “More than once. Just sounded like he was up to something, is all,” he warned, and my skin prickled.
Logan LeDeoux. Grade A douche bag and bad-attitude extraordinaire.
We were both seniors this year, beginning together on the team as freshmen. But when I had gotten to start in the outfield over him, our friendship had quickly disintegrated. He hated me and made sure I knew it every chance he got, reminding me that he should be the one playing center field and not me. He celebrated my failures with a golf clap and a wicked grin and pouted over my successes. It was one of the worst feelings to know that a teammate, someone who was supposed to have your back, was secretly—or not so secretly—hoping for your demise.
“Who was he talking to?” Chance asked, and I knew that he hated Logan just as much as I did.
Chance had zero tolerance for guys who tore teams apart. We both considered him a cancer, but Coach Jackson obviously didn’t see it the same way; otherwise, he would cut him from the team.
Mac grabbed his glove and motioned for us to head out toward the field. “I’m not sure. I don’t think it was anyone on our team. Maybe some frat guy? I really don’t know.”
The air around me buzzed, my anger simmering just below the surface. I hated that Logan had been talking about Christina, even breathing her name. I couldn’t have cared less about whatever he was saying about me, but him talking about her made me uneasy.
“What are you thinking?” Chance asked as we stepped upstairs and into the daylight.
“I don’t want him anywhere near her,” I growled. “But there’s no time for that now. We need to focus.”
Chance and Mac both nodded as we picked up our bats and made our way toward the outdoor batting cages. Chance’s dad and our pitching coach was already there, setting up the machines.
“Rough night last night?” he asked, and the three of us shot each other looks like we were somehow about to be in trouble.
“I didn’t say anything,” Chance said before we could blame him.
“Oh, please. Like we didn’t do the exact same shit when I was here. Sunday nights after a home series? Yeah, we partied. Don’t act like that’s changed.” Coach Carter gave me a pat on the back. “Just don’t”—he stopped short and looked directly at Mac—“get anyone pregnant.”
Mac practically choked.
“Jesus, Dad,” Chance said.
Coach Carter threw his hands in the air. “Just a little friendly advice, is all. You still on a girl strike?” he asked, directing his question at me.
I wondered how he knew so many personal details about us. I realized that he must listen in whenever we traveled on the bus and whenever he sat in the dugout. Or who knew what the pitching staff confessed to him back in the bullpen during practices and games? Jack obviously knew way more than any of us realized.
“I am. At least, I’m trying,” I said, deciding to be honest.
His brows shot up, and a sly grin appeared. “Ah. You met a girl then,” he said.
“I’ve always known her,” I started to explain before feeling frustrated. “It doesn’t matter, sir—Coach. I can’t focus on that right now. I need to fix my swing.” My tone came out almost pleading.
Every at bat felt like it might be my last. If I couldn’t pull myself out of the hitting slump I had been in, there was a good chance that Coach Jackson would start putting Logan in instead of me. I knew Logan was waiting for it, chomping at the bit to take my position.
And I couldn’t let that happen regardless of how I personally felt about Logan. It wasn’t only that I hated him, but I was also terrified that