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Most of the time, Ginny hated the restrictions of fame. The dark glasses, the security people, the constant intrusions into her day anytime she ventured out.
But right now, Ginny was grateful for the driver rushing her through New York traffic. Her hands shook as she texted Evelyn and traded calls with Amelia.
Security met her by a staff entrance and whisked her through the corridors, shielding her as much as possible from the people gawking at her as she passed by.
Finally the security guard gestured to a closed door, and Ginny mumbled her thanks and stumbled through.
The man in the bed looked tired and pale, eyes half closed. They widened when he saw her. in surprise? Or maybe she just looked crazy, she abruptly realized. Damp curls escaped from her ponytail, her shirt sticking to her back, and she almost certainly smelled after six innings under the blazing August sun.
None of that had seemed important when she sprinted through the visitors’ clubhouse to her makeshift cubby to change, hollering to a clubbie to call her a car. Today was not a day for Uber.
What mattered was getting here, as fast as possible, to look him in the eye and say what was on her mind.
Except he beat her to the punch. “You’re not pitching,” Mike Lawson said, frowning and pointing at the television in the corner.
She hadn’t even noticed he was watching the game. Ginny glanced at it only long enough to check that Butch hadn’t lost her lead. She needed this win. The team needed this. She turned back and raised an eyebrow at her captain. “And you’re not on first.”
“First,” he scoffed, laughing a little to himself, then frowning down at his left leg. A brace wrapped around his swollen knee, sticking out from under a pale blue hospital gown. An IV snaked away from his right hand. The fluorescent lights did Mike’s fair skin no favors, but he seemed paler than usual.
Ginny moved closer, dropped into a chair by the bed. “And you had to charge the bunt?”
Mike shrugged and grinned. “I made the play.”
Ginny wanted to shove him, knock him upside the head, make him promise never to do something so stupid again. “Was a double play worth 10 days on the DL?”
Mike smiled and shook his head, a tired, dopey smile. His eyes seemed out of focus now that she was closer. “Ten days? C’mon, rookie. You saw it.”
But she hadn’t. Ginny had seen the ball, bouncing slowly between her and home plate, then a flash as Mike drove in front of her, and Ginny took off to cover first as the runner sprinted toward the base.
She saw Christiello catch the ball at third, saw him turn and rocket the throw to her, catching it just in time. She was still giddy over it when she noticed the hushed crowd and Livan jumping up to run toward the mound. Only then did she see Lawson in the dirt clutching his knee.
They’d whisked him away so quickly her hands were still trembling when she threw her first pitch. Al had pulled her at the end of the inning.
“What did the doctor say?”
Mike made an odd noise in his throat and smiled crookedly. Something very, very good was flowing through that IV. “Surgery, rehab, the usual.”
Ginny leaned forward and squeezed his forearm. “Good. You’ll be back in time for Spring Training.”
His smile faded. “Baker, I’m done.”
She shook her head emphatically. “No. There are a million orthopedic surgeons in New York. One of them can fix you up.”
Mike reached up and covered her hand. “Ginny, I’m ready to go.”
“Why?” It came out too sharp, a rebuke when she didn’t mean it as one. “What are you going to do? Sell cars? Do commentary on Fox Sports?”
He winced. They both knew the latter wasn’t an option. “Oscar wants me to join the front office.” He smiled again, softer and the kind of dopey Ginny associated with heavy pain medication. “I turned him down.”
“Why?” It wasn’t ideal, it wasn’t Lawson staring back at her across the field, but at least he’d be around.
Somehow his smile got even softer, his cheeks rounding and the crinkles around his hazel eyes deepening. “Couldn’t shoot my shot in the front office.”
Ginny’s brow furrowed. He was definitely too doped up for this conversation. “You’re not making sense, Lawson. I should go.”
“No.” Mike’s hand tightened over hers, holding her in place. “I’ve been waiting too long for this. You gotta know you’re the one, Gin.”
Ginny froze. Her instinct was to pull away, brush off what he’d said. He was hurting, and medicated, and she’d misread him before. Off the field, Ginny’s instincts were off when it came to him. “You should rest, Lawson. I’ll bring Blip with me in the morning.”
His smile dissolved. “Is that how you want to play this?”
“You’re literally high. You wouldn’t be saying this otherwise.” He was the one who acted like she was crazy to bring up their almost kiss so long ago. He didn’t get to make puppy eyes at her now and expect her to just roll with it.
He shrugged but didn’t let go of her hand. “Maybe. Maybe I’d wait til after my knee’s fixed, come to your place, offer you a trip around the world… that works, right?” The grin splitting his face wasn’t soft anymore, it was that obnoxious shit-eating grin she knew best from the clubhouse.
“Fuck you, Lawson,” she grumbled.
His grin widened. “I wish you would.”
Ginny laughed. “You are so high right now.”
Mike slowly shook his head, then hesitated and nodded. “Okay, maybe a little. Still know what I want.”
“I really should go,” she reminded both of them. Ginny tried to pull away from his grasp, but he held on.
“I want an answer first.”
Ginny’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t hear a question.”
His grip relaxed, and she took the opportunity to pull her hand away. He looked exhausted, and he was probably still in shock. Two hours ago he was still on the field and now his career was over.
“Our timing sucked, last time,” Mike said slowly.
“This is pretty weird timing, too,” Ginny cut in.
“Baker, that’s not—” he huffed in irritation. “I wanted to kiss you. Another two seconds and I would have. I’m not a ballplayer anymore—” she grumbled at that but he charged on, “—I’m not, and I’m gonna need some time to figure out what the hell I am. But the next time I try to kiss you, are you gonna let me?”
She’d been too impulsive in the past. There were pictures and video to prove it. “No,” she said, hating the way his face fell. But she’d been over-cautious as well, letting the team and Amelia and the press and Pop dictate so much of her life that it didn’t always feel like her own. “I’m tired of waiting around for other people to make decisions for me.”
Ginny stood, the stung expression in his eyes making her heart ache. And then she bent down and kissed him, her hand cupping his bearded jaw.
His eyes were wide when she straightened again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lawson.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said gruffly, his cheeks flushed.
Ginny turned to go.
“Hey, Baker?”
She turned back. “What?”
Mike was smiling again. “Maybe don’t bring Blip.”
Ginny was laughing as she walked out of the room.