Hothead by Stella Rhys

30

DREW

Against Iain’s wishes, Evie decided to fly in for the L.A leg of my west coast road trip.

“She does realize how much L.A hates you, right?” Iain asked, having called me the second I told him of our plans. “She’s not going to have fun in the stands by herself. The fans are going to heckle her just for being your girlfriend. You have to realize that.”

“I do, but she’ll be sitting with the rest of the WAGs, including Diaz’s wife so she’ll be in good hands,” I said as my car crossed the bridge into Brooklyn to get to the stadium. “Trust me, I’d rather her avoid LA too but she wanted to go. She said she’s never been to California before and this is her shot,” I lied.

That wasn’t the reason. It was more so the fact that Evie now knew why L.A hated me so goddamned much.

I had missed five weeks of games after putting Tim in the hospital. I had been forced to go to anger counseling and when I returned to L.A, I was broken down enough to let a former fling become something more. I needed the emotional support.

But I wound up discovering that she was emailing the team daily updates on me – when I got home, who I spoke to on the phone, and any info she could get out of me regarding Tim.

I was an expensive investment for them, and they didn’t trust me to stay out of trouble, so they paid someone in my life to spy on me - to monitor my day-to-day behavior.

It was why I demanded a trade from L.A the same year they traded three key players to acquire me. It was why their manager, current roster and front office hated me, and why the fans went out of their way to heckle me when I visited. It was never a particularly enjoyable city to play in. In fact, I hated being there. Four years later, and I’d yet to touch down in L.A without thinking about all the drama that went down when I was on that team – especially since the fans loved to use the Lillards against me while heckling.

“Would it make your stay a little easier if I came?” Evie had asked yesterday morning, after our long talk in bed.

It took a good minute for me to answer because on instinct, my tongue refused to admit that I needed anyone for anything. Even after I’d proven to myself that I was no good without Evie – that my body physically ached when it wasn’t near hers – I refused to just flat-out say that I wanted her to come.

That I would be happier if she did.

But eventually, I fought myself for long enough to utter the words, “I’d like if you did.”

“Cool. Then I will,” Evie had smiled breezily, completely unaware of the fact that my body had just gone to war with itself to give her that five-word response. It was honestly ridiculous, and I recognized that. For so long, I’d trained myself to function just fine without relying on anyone but myself.

But now that I’d had a taste of Evie’s brand of warmth and comfort, there was no going back.

“Maddox. You know they’re going to go harder than usual, considering this is your first time back since you punched their captain in the face,” Iain said, reminding me of that home game a few months ago.

Cody Bryce had said something about how Pattie was rolling in her grave over what a piece of shit I was. I responded by throwing a fastball high and inside, damned near skimming his fat mouth. He stormed the mound, I clocked him in the jaw and a few days later, I was covering my bruised ankle with Keira’s makeup, in a car that would eventually take me to meet Evie.

That night had been only months ago but it felt like well over a year at this point, because I could barely remember what my life was like before this contract –before knowing Evie.

“She’s tough as nails, Iain. I promise you she can handle whatever the L.A crowd has to say to her,” I said.

“You better hope so, Drew. After that story in the tabloids about her family, the last thing you need is for one more drama to explode in her face and chase her away.”

“Have a little faith in her, Iain,” I said, a grin on my lips as the car pulled up to the stadium. “I promise you she isn’t going anywhere.”

* * *

EVIE

After my finalmeeting on Wednesday, I caught an afternoon flight into Los Angeles. And pretty shortly after touching down, I realized that Drew hadn’t been exaggerating in his warnings to me about L.A.

“Hey! Fuck the Empires!” some guy in the airport yelled at me with a big grin, inspiring someone else to pipe up.

“Fuck Drew Maddox!”

Jesus.

I was pretty sure I was getting recognized more here than I was at home. Thankfully, there was a lot less walking to do in L.A than in New York, which meant that for the rest of the day, I was pretty much hidden in the safety of a car. I was even able to enjoy a little bit of shopping and a solo lunch in relative peace and quiet.

No one called out at me, but I did have a pretty bad case of the giggles because Drew would not stop checking in on me.

DREW:Hey. What are you up to?

ME:Pretty much the same as when you checked in on me twenty minutes ago silly

DREW:Hey a lot can change in 20 minutes. We lost the World Series last year in a matter of 20 minutes

ME:Fair enough. Though I should say no one has said anything to me since leaving the airport

DREW:Paparazzi?

ME:Not that I can see

DREW:Good

ME:Shouldn’t you be stretching or bagging flies right now or something? Why do you have your phone on you?

DREW:Shagging flies. And I just wanted to check in to make sure you’re okay

I smirked to myself, trying to suppress my amusement since I was attracting eyes around the restaurant for laughing to myself so much. But I couldn’t help it. Drew Maddox being protective was as adorable as it was sexy to me, and I honestly couldn’t believe he was taking time out of his pre-game routine to check in on me so much. I kept imagining him in uniform, jogging back and forth between the field and the clubhouse to sneak texts to me.

ME:Drew as cute as you are to worry about me I’m going to tell you to get back to doing your pre-game thing. Still not sure how baseball works but I do know I need you to win tonight, especially if the crowd is going to be as bad as you say.

DREW:I will win tonight. And they’re probably going to be even worse than I said.

And as it turned out, he was right on both counts.

Because as soon as I got to the stadium the heckling started up again, and were it not for the company of the other WAGs, particularly Angie Diaz, I’d be a little intimidated – mostly because the majority of the yelling was directed solely to me.

It was mostly a lot of “fuck Drew Maddox” with some “stupid gold-digger” and “whore” comments peppered in, but by the time we sat, the hecklers got more creative.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing with a psychopath, huh?”

“Is he holding you against your will, sweetheart?”

“Hey, blink twice if you need us to call the cops!”

“Ignore them, girl.” Angie squeezed my hand while wearing a big grin and waving down the field to her husband, Alex – or as Drew called him, Diaz.

“I am. Not even looking behind me,” I reassured her.

“Good. The boys always worry when we come to L.A games because the fans get rowdy,” she said between her brilliant, smiling teeth as she blew Diaz a kiss. “And they were even more worried today, but I told them we’re big girls, and we don’t scare easy.”

“Yes. Totally,” I nodded vehemently, but then I frowned. “Wait. Why were they particularly worried today?”

Angie turned to me with a funny smile.

“Well… because you’re here today, sweetie,” she said as if it were obvious. “Drew can ignore the hecklers easy, but with you here? The fans know he’s got a weakness now, and if they can’t get under his skin, they’re gonna try to get under yours – which is why we’re just gonna let that shit roll off our backs, right? Because we don’t want to give our boys anything to worry about.”

“Oh yeah. Totally,” I agreed readily, though I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of worry.

And guilt.

For God’s sake, I had come here to serve as Drew’s emotional support, not his Kryptonite.

“It’s okay, honey,” Angie said, patting my hand when she read the look of concern in my eyes. “As long as you stay strong for him, he’ll be fine. All Drew needs is to know you’re okay, and he’ll be okay, too. That’s just how love goes.”

“Of course,” I said, blushing like an idiot over the L word.

Still, I did manage to heed the rest of Angie’s advice by staying calm and giving the crowd nothing to work off of for the next two-and-a-half hours – even as the abuse started to move away from Drew and more toward my family. Clearly, these people were Googling me between innings because the taunting was starting to get insanely specific.

“Evie! That beer you’re drinking could pay your mom’s mortgage this month!”

“Hey, Belfield girl, are you really his fiancée? Or are you his drug dealer?”

“Hey, sweetie, I’ll buy you a pack of cigs if you suck my dick.”

“Fuckin’ trailer traaaash!”

I could see it getting to even Angie.

“Jesus, these fuckin’ pendejos, are they serious?” she muttered to herself, in the midst of turning around in her seat before I stopped her.

“Angie. It’s okay,” I said, forcing a laugh. “It doesn’t bother me. I’ve already started getting used to it.”

“Well, good,” she huffed, taking a second to calm down. Once she did, she eyed me with a smirk. “See, you look like the nice girl next door, but I should’ve figured you were a tough cookie. No way you lock down Drew Maddox without being a bad bitch.”

I laughed.

“Oh yeah. He can be difficult,” I admitted, feeling every bit like a real girlfriend as Angie and I commiserated over the bullheaded tendencies of our men. “But he’s worth the fight,” I said eventually.

And I meant it, especially as I remembered our last morning in bed together. I had the real Drew Maddox wrapped around me. His real embrace, his raw emotions, his real kiss. It had taken awhile, but I finally had all of Drew.

It felt incredible.

“Looks like he’s finally met his match,” Angie said as she looked at me.

I grinned. “Maybe.”

And for the rest of the game, we successfully ignored the yelling and shouting – especially since the seventh inning saw the Empires scoring four runs to up the lead to 8-1, which meant Drew was pulled in the next inning.

“He killed it, honey. They just want to send in some relief pitching to let him rest,” Angie explained to me as Drew got a dozen pats on the back from his teammates before hopping off the mound.

I had to laugh at the instant downpour of boos that rained down on him as he jogged from the mount to the dugout because he was completely unfazed and grinning, and my God he looked good.

That uniform fit tighter on his lower body than any of the jeans he wore on a regular basis and Lord, that ass was calling to me. I was pretty sure watching Drew jog across the field was what men felt like when they watched the women running on the beach in Baywatch. Even as I looked around, I could see some female fans in L.A gear biting their lips at each other and shrugging as if to say, yeah, gotta admit, he’s hot.

I was pretty sure it didn’t get better but just as Drew passed my section along the first base line, he looked directly at me. Locking eyes on me, he pointed, grinned and blew a kiss.

As he disappeared into the dugout, I promptly melted into my seat.

“Omigod!”

“Evieee!”

The WAGs were squealing, pinching me and losing their minds so hard that I could barely hear the hecklers booing even harder around me than usual. All I could do was laugh my ass off because I couldn’t believe this was my life. I had survived the L.A hecklers, my man had gotten the win and we were bound to celebrate tonight with a room service feast at the hotel before passing out together in bed.

“See?” Angie murmured to me after we’d all come down from our giggles. “Isn’t it fun being Drew Maddox’s fiancée?”

I said nothing, simply nodding because I wasn’t sure what it felt like to be Drew’s fiancée. But I did have an idea of what it felt like to be his girlfriend.

And that, I had to admit, felt better than I could’ve ever imagined.