The pitcher rolled his eyes and then checked the runners before entering into his windup. What Ethan had taken for a curve sank into a fastball just as he made contact, sending a pitch that might have only skimmed the fence into a straight shot headed directly at— Oh no. His heart hammered as the ball slammed into Naomi’s shoulder.
Ethan raced toward her, even as the umpire called the ball fair.
“What the hell are you doing?” Naomi held her shoulder with the opposite arm as she raced away from him toward third base. “Go to first, you moron!”
He pivoted at the last second, too shocked to argue, but was still out by a mile.
Ethan got in the ump’s face as soon as he got back to home plate. “Time out. My player’s hurt. She needs to come out of the game.”
“I do not,” Naomi shouted from third base. “Ethan, sit down.”
The ump gave him aBetter you than me, buddylook.
It wasn’t until Morey came and steered him toward the bench that Ethan closed his mouth.
He buried his face in his hands and tried to calm his racing pulse. He’d spent the entire game worried about her getting hit with a ball, and then to be the one to do it? There was a decent chance he might die of embarrassment.
He missed whatever play brought her home, had no idea if it was good or bad. The next thing he knew, Naomi was back in front of him.
“What is wrong with you?”
Ethan jumped to his feet. “I’m so sorry.” He reminded himself it wasn’t okay to hold her. “We’ve got ice in the first-aid kit—”
“We could have had that play if you’d just run to first like you were supposed to,” she interrupted him. Her cheeks were flushed, and a few strands of damp hair fell out of her ponytail to curl against her neck. She looked like a vengeful queen. “I thought you were obsessed with winning!”
His blood felt too heavy for his body. He could barely think through his still abating panic.
She made him feel like he was unraveling.
“I am,” he yelled back. “But I’m more obsessed with you.” Everyone else on the field turned to stare at them.
“I mean,” he said, looking around, his eyes catching on Amelia’s calculating gaze. “The collective you, obviously. As in, the team. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.” His breath came out in harsh puffs.
Naomi’s face was guarded.
Morey shuffled over with an ice pack, which she took with a small “Thanks.” Her eyes flashed to the field, and Ethan followed her gaze to Amelia.
The rest of the game passed in a blur.
Ethan tried to focus on the team. On the score. On anything but theflash of surprise across Naomi’s face when he’d admitted how much he cared about her. There was a slim chance she wouldn’t recognize his confession as an outright declaration.
He barely even noticed when they lost.
“You all head out,” he told the rest of the team. “I’ll stay and lock up the equipment.”
Morey tried to protest, but Ethan told him the deli on Fairfax was having a sale on pastrami, and he was gone in a flash.
It didn’t take long to pack up the catcher’s gear and the bases, but when he walked back from third, Naomi was waiting for him, ice wrapped to her shoulder with gauze.
His heart felt powerful enough to walk out of his body.
Without saying anything, she took the bases with her good arm, leaving him to haul the gear and bats to the storage shed on the edge of the field that they rented along with a bunch of other teams.
Neither of them said anything on the walk over. For his part, Ethan was trying to decide what to apologize for first. He locked up everything with sweaty hands. When he finally turned to her, Naomi stood very still.
“I, uh.” He stared at the cobwebbed ceiling for a moment. “I guess you’re probably wondering what that whole outburst was about?”
“Do you have feelings for me?” The words came out aggressive enough to match her foreboding posture.