Fastpitch & False Alibis

prologue

The first thing I noticed was Evan Nash’s truck parked behind the motel at two in the morning. The second thing I noticed was my brother climbing out of it. I stayed frozen beside the ice machine with a half-melted sports drink in my hand while the neon VACANCY sign buzzed overhead like it was trying to warn me away from the scene in front of me. Jason slammed the passenger door harder than necessary. Evan had gotten out a second later. Neither of them had seen me. That alone told me something was wrong. Jason normally noticed everything. Especially when it involved me.

The parking lot behind the motel was mostly dark except for one broken floodlight flickering near the dumpsters. Our team buses sat parked along the side fence after fourteen straight hours at the Tennessee Summer Showcase tournament. Most of the girls had been asleep upstairs already, exhausted after the quarterfinal game went into extra innings. I was supposed to be asleep too.

Instead, I was standing barefoot in softball shorts and an oversized hoodie, watching my brother and my coach look like they were seconds away from killing each other. “You can’t keep doing this,” Jason snapped. Evan leaned back against the truck, arms crossed over his chest. Even from across the lot, he had looked calm in the way storms look calm before roofs disappear. “I already handled it.” “That’s not handling it.” “It bought us time.” Jason laughed once, sharp and humorless. “You think time fixes this?”

Evan dragged a hand through his dark hair before tying it back again. Tattoos shifted across his forearms beneath the motel lights.

“You’re loud,” he muttered. “Take it down a level.” “No.” The word cracked through the parking lot. I stepped closer without any thinking. Not enough to expose myself. Just enough to hear better.

Jason was pacing away from the truck, then back again. He looked different outside the dealership version of himself. No fake smile. No polished confidence. Just exhausted anger. “You should’ve told me before she got involved.” My stomach tightened. Evan’s jaw flexed once. “She’s not involved.” Jason stared at him like he’d just said something stupid.

“You keep looking at her like that during games and eventually somebody’s gonna notice.” Silence. The kind that changes shape. I stopped breathing for a second.

Because Jason wasn’t wrong. I’d noticed it too. The looks lasted too long now. The conversations felt heavier.

Every time Evan adjusted my batting stance or wrapped athletic tape around my wrist before games, the air between us tightened like pulled wire. At first I thought I had imagined it. Then I caught him watching me during practice last week. Not the coach watching the player.

Evan pushed off the truck slowly. “She’s eighteen.” Jason barked out another laugh. “That’s your defense?” “I’m saying she’s not a kid.” “Yeah? Then start acting like you remember who her brother is.”

The words hit harder than they should have. I should’ve walked away right then.

Instead, I crouched behind the ice machine like some insane dugout goblin spying on my own family. Evan lowered his voice after that, forcing me to strain harder to hear. “I know exactly who you are.” Jason had gone still. That sentence carried history inside it. Years of it.

Neither man spoke for several seconds.

The floodlight buzzed overhead. Somewhere upstairs, a toilet flushed through thin motel pipes. Then Jason said quietly, “You promised me.” Evan looked away first. That surprised me more than anything.

Because Evan Nash never looked away from people. Not angry parents screaming after losses. Nobody. “What do you want me to say?” Evan asked. “The truth would be a cool start.” “You can’t afford the truth.” Jason stepped closer so fast I thought he might swing at him. Instead he hissed, “Don’t do that.” “Do what?” “Act like you’re protecting me.”

Evan’s expression hardened. “I am protecting you.” Jason shoved him backward. Hard. Evan hit the side of the truck with a metallic bang. Every muscle in my body went still. Neither of them noticed. Jason pointed toward the motel building. Toward my room upstairs. “She trusts you.” The words felt aimed directly at my chest.

Evan rubbed a hand across his jaw slowly. “That’s exactly why this stops now.” Jason stared at him. Then something strange happened. His anger cracked. Not completely. Just enough for something uglier to show through underneath it. Fear. “You think stopping now changes what already happened?”

Evan didn’t answer. Jason laughed again, quieter this time. “That’s what I thought.”

A car passed on the highway beyond the motel fence. Headlights flashed across the parking lot for half a second before disappearing into darkness again. Jason leaned against the truck beside Evan after that, both of them suddenly exhausted. The fight drained out of the air almost instantly.

Which somehow felt more intimate than yelling. “I can still fix it,” Evan said finally.

Jason shook his head. “You always think that.” “You want another option?” “No.” Jason looked down at the pavement. “I want the first option back.”

The sentence made no sense. But the silence after it felt massive. Then Evan reached over and grabbed the back of Jason’s neck. Not violent. My stomach dropped so fast it almost hurt. Jason closed his eyes for one second. One second.nThen he stepped back like he realized what he was doing. And suddenly every weird moment from the past month started replaying in my head at once. The late-night phone calls. Jason getting defensive anytime I mentioned Evan. The way Evan and Jason seemed to communicate entire conversations without speaking.

The changing motel rooms last weekend with “booking problems.” The fight I overheard outside the batting cages. My chest went cold…. No, No chance. That wasn’t possible.

Except…

Evan said something too low for me to hear. Jason answered louder. “She can never find out.” The air vanished from my lungs. Evan’s face turned sharp instantly. “Keep your voice down.” “You think she’s stupid?” Jason snapped. “She notices everything.” I leaned farther around the ice machine without meaning to. My flip-flop scraped concrete. Huge mistake.

Both men turned instantly. Directly toward me. Every survival instinct I had screamed RUN. Too late. Jason’s face drained of color first. Evan’s expression became unreadable. Nobody moved.

The three of us just stared at each other across the motel parking lot while the floodlight flickered overhead. I stood up slowly. Nobody spoke. Jason recovered first. “Bridge…” I looked between them.

Between my brother. And Evan.

And suddenly all the space between them looked suspicious. “What the hell is going on?” I asked. Jason opened his mouth.

Nothing came out. Evan stepped forward once. “Bridget.” That voice again. Low. Careful, and Controlled. Like he was approaching a live grenade. I looked at him harder now. Really looked.

The matching silver chain under Jason’s shirt. The identical tattoo line disappears beneath Evan’s sleeve. The tension. The familiarity. The way they stood too close even while angry. My pulse started hammering. “No way,” I whispered. Jason ran a hand down his face. “Bridge, just listen first.” I laughed once because suddenly I felt insane. “Listen to what?”

Neither answered fast enough. And that was an answer enough. I looked directly at Evan. My coach. My brother’s best friend. The man I’d spent the entire summer trying not to think about.

Then I asked the question that shattered the parking lot wide open. “Are you sleeping with my brother?” Jason flinched. But Evan? Evan just stared at me for one long second before saying quietly… “No.” Relief hit me so hard it almost made me dizzy. For exactly half a second. Because then Evan added… “We’re pretending to.”