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Be My Game Changer: A Sports Romance(55)

Author:Andrea Rousse

“Ah,” Carter nods, looking back to feuding brothers. “Well, guess I have something else to thank Bodie for.” He returns his gaze to me. “You look stunning, Avery.”

Okay. This was not something I ever pictured happening. “What are you doing here?”

“I went to see you at your place, but you weren’t there, so I went to your parents’ place. Your dad told me about the wedding and had Rhett show me the way over.”

Out of all the people, he sent him with Rhett. Ugh, but I’ll take it.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“I tried. I’ve been trying to call you all week,” I stupidly admit.

Carter takes a deliberate step forward, moving just in front of me. “I picked up the phone a million times. To answer, to call, to text, but what I had to say didn’t feel right coming through a phone. And I needed to see you when I said it. I’m so sorry, Avery. I’m sorry I scared you. I wasn’t going to touch—I’d never lay a finger on you. I just wanted to get you away from my father. I lost it. It made me crazy that he was so close to you.” He lets out a frustrated breath, stepping forward as he brings his hand up, sliding his palm along the side of my neck, his fingers lightly gripping as his lips move near mine. “I’m so sorry, Avery.”

My arms come up, wrapping around his neck as he places a tender kiss on my lips before leaning back. “Will you come somewhere with me?”

It’s not even a question, because I’m pretty sure I’d follow him anywhere he’d want to go, but I’m not ready to admit that to him just yet. So I simply nod my head, and he leads me away.

When I look back, I see a triumphant smile on Bodie’s face as he mouths, “I told you so.”

Yes, he did. And I’m sure he’ll remind me of such a few more times, but I can’t celebrate quite yet because as steady as Carter’s hand is in mine, I know our feet are on shaky ground. And I fear the damage Cash has already done will have a bigger hold on Carter than he can resist. It’s hard not to wonder what lurks around the corner when dealing with a demented man hell-bent on hurting his son.

38

AVERY

Out of all the places Carter drives, it’s to the ballpark. Most of the parking lot is empty, until Carter steers into the private area for the players where there are vehicles lined around.

“Should we be here?” I ask when Carter pulls open the passenger door, holding his hand out to me.

“Yeah. We’re good.”

Sliding off the seat, I take his hand as he leads me through a door and down a long corridor before we eventually make our way onto the field.

“It’s so different.” My eyes search the dimly lit stadium, the calm and quiet making it seem like a different place, but it feels comforting.

“The team’s in Seattle. Yesterday should’ve been my day to pitch.” His posture tenses a little before he clasps his hand around mine, leading me to the dugout. “The first game I attended, I was so excited that I got away from my mom and ran into the dugout right before the game was about to start. Dad laughed it off when he led me back to my mom, but later that night, she had a bruised eye and a busted lip. I didn’t understand it until I was older, but he’d waited until we were home to react. That’s what he would do. He’d put on the show, hold in his anger, then react when no one was watching.”

His hand releases mine, moving to rub through his hair, pulling at the locks. He sits on the bench before his hands drop, landing between his legs, and I sit beside him. “There’s nowhere in this place where I don’t see him. Nothing that hasn’t been tarnished.” Carter pushes up, pacing up the steps to the edge of the dugout. Leaning back against the railing, he looks over the roof into the stands. “Until you.”

He moves back down the steps, dropping to his knees in front of me. His hands move to my sides, gripping my hips. “All I see when I look behind this dugout is a beautiful woman with her nose in a book and not the least bit interested in me.” Damn, how times have changed because he holds my full interest now as he leans forward, brushing a tender kiss on my mouth. “Thank you.”

He kisses me—everything about it is tender and gentle—then he pulls back, moving to sit on the bench beside me. “When I saw him next to you, I lost my mind. The only good memory I had to cling to—he stole it from me, and I wasn’t sure if he hadn’t set the whole thing up. I know you better than to accuse you of something like that, but the vile evilness he’s implanted in my brain … it makes me think the absolute worse of everyone. I’m sorry—”

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