After months of therapy, Garrett Delko is still struggling to cope with his brother's suicide. The only time he finds peace is on the pitching mound and with a mysterious girl he's been obsessed with since the first week of college. One night, he se...
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A baseball glove hit the back of Garrett's head. "What the hell is wrong with you, Saint?" Jordan stalked over to the pitching mound. The rest of the team had gone to dinner, but Garrett stayed to practice his curveball. "Just when I think you've changed, you go straight back to first base. How long have you been out here?"
"Since practice ended?" Garrett guessed. He rolled his shoulder and felt a sharp twinge.
Jordan glanced at his watch. "That was two hours ago! Have you given your arm a break at all?"
Well, that explained the pain. He shrugged as he flicked the sweat off his forehead and drank from his water bottle. He broke out in goosebumps as the icy water dribbled down his heated neck.
Jordan looked like he wanted to deck him. "Of all the boneheaded, idiotic moves..." He sighed, glancing up when the field lights clicked on. "Why haven't you been to meditation classes? You know they're mandatory."
The dull ache Garrett had been carrying since B-Bash intensified. "Just haven't felt like going."
"Does this have anything to do with Arianne?"
Desperation gripped Garrett at the sound of her name. "You've seen her? How is she?"
"She looks like shit," Jordan said bluntly. He crouched down and picked up his glove. Leaning back on his haunches, he studied Garrett with a discerning eye. "And so do you. Did you guys get in a fight? Is that why she bailed on B-Bash?"
The fissure in Garrett's chest cracked open. After her heartbreaking admission, he'd chased after her, but when he found her crying against the side of the building looking ravaged and so desperately lost, he froze. He'd seen that look before. It was the exact expression his brother Spencer wore when his private journal became public.
"I don't want to talk about it," Garrett muttered. He stalked off the field with Jordan hot on his heels.
"I don't care what you want. You're going to tell me what the hell is going on right now."
The demand grated. Giving an icy look, Garrett cooly informed him, "My pitching isn't off, so I don't see how any of this is your business."
"You're getting it in the catcher's mitt, but shit, Garrett—" Sighing, Jordan shook his head. "It's like you lost your heart for the game."
He'd lost his heart all right. Just not for the game.
Jordan went on, "I don't want you falling into a ditch you can't climb out of. You deserve better."
His stomach twisted painfully. "I don't deserve shit." He'd run from Arianne like a coward. Just like he'd run from Spencer. He remembered in vivid detail the day he learned the truth.
Garrett was polishing off the last bits of his lunch when Timothy Vick and his basketball buddies descended on the cafeteria like a group of gnats swarming a garbage can. In typical Timothy fashion, he pushed his way through not giving one fuck about anyone but himself. Alongside him walked Heidi, Garrett's lab partner, and crush. Not only was she the hottest girl in the freshman class, but she was also captain of the freshman soccer team. Garrett didn't understand why a smart girl like her would hang out with an arrogant prick like Timothy.
