Last Strike

Shameless

Ashton’s POV:

Lizzy has always been fiercely stubborn, but never in my wildest dreams would I have ever expected her to be so bold as to step into the shower room. That poor rookie, Michaelson, was mortified. Lizzy, on the other hand, didn’t even flinch at the sight of his nakedness or mine. How many men has she been with to be indifferent to a man standing naked in front of her? Why did the thought of her being intimate with other men cause a tightness in my chest?

I don’t care about her or who she’s hooked up with. I’m Ashton Tate, and I can have any woman I want, and I certainly don’t want her.

I stepped out of the shower to find her sitting on the bench in front of my locker. I stared at her, sitting stiff as a board, completely ignoring my presence.

“You’re just going to sit there and watch me get dressed? Are you really that shameless, Elizabeth?”

She laughed at me, not a giggle or a slight chuckle, but a full-blown belly laugh. My nostrils flared, and my hands curled up into fists. “What the hell is so funny?” I hated the idea of her laughing at me and me not having the upper hand in this situation.

Once she had composed herself enough to speak, she lashed out at me. “You have the nerve to call me shameless when you are the one who has women accusing you of causing them to miscarry your child. Let’s also not forget that it’s your bare ass that is all over social media right now, not mine. So, tell me, Tate, how exactly am I shameless, given that I’ve seen you get dressed numerous times in our past lives? I’ve already seen it all.”

Her harsh words struck me deep, and I said the only thing that I knew would resonate with her. “I should tell your dad. He’d be ashamed of you acting this way.”

In a flash, her face went pale. She bolted to her feet and stormed out of the locker room without uttering another word. That wasn’t quite the response I had expected from her, but I’d certainly take it. I let out a sigh of relief — grateful for the reprieve from her overbearing presence.

As I slipped into a pair of jeans, Malcolm rushed into the locker room. “Dude, what did you say to Lizzy?”

I threw on my T-shirt and raked my hand through my wet hair, shrugging my shoulders as I casually answered him, “I wanted her out of the room. So I threatened to tell her dad and said he’d be ashamed of her hanging out in the men’s locker room while men were naked.”

Malcom reached out and slapped the back of my head with such force that I almost lost my balance. He sneered at me, “You dumb*ss! Lizzy’s father just passed away two months ago!”

“Wh- What? No! That’s not possible. Tell me you’re lying! Eddie Mason can’t be dead.”

My head began to throb from that slap to the back of it. I rubbed at the base of my neck, pacing the locker room floor. Lizzy’s dad had been like a second father to me during our college years together. Naturally, I hadn’t had contact with him since our breakup, but I still cared for him deeply. He was the one who recommended me to the Grizzlies. I owed my career to that man.

Malcolm shook his head in disbelief. “Seriously, Ash, how could you not know? It was all over the news. There’s even been talk of having a special day here to honor him. How self-absorbed have you become that you haven’t heard any of this?”

Sh*t! Was he right?

Had I become so wrapped up in my own screwed-up life that I was oblivious to everything else happening around me? Baseball has lost a legendary scout. I’ve lost a man whom I had seen as a father, and Elizabeth lost the person she cherished the most in this world.

“Malcom, why didn’t you say anything to me? You know what he meant to me. He’s the reason we’re both here playing for the Grizzlies. You should have told me!”

He glared at me. “Whoa, dude, you are not pinning this on me! I assumed you knew, as everyone else did, and that you chose to ignore it because of everything that happened between you and Lizzy. What would you have done if you had known?”

In a fit of despair, I slammed my hand against the locker door, causing the already swollen and bruised knuckles to split open again.

Damn it, this can’t be happening to me right now. It’s not bad enough that I had a horrible game; now I have to deal with all this extra drama. I just want to play baseball. Is that so wrong?

Where did it all go wrong?

I look over at my best friend, who is wearing the same expression he always has on his face when he believes I’ve royally screwed up. I forced out a long sigh. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have said what I said to Lizzy. I would have at least offered my condolences. No matter what happened between her and I, he still meant a great deal to me. I never had the chance to properly thank him for all that he did to help me get my chance in the big league. But how did you know that I had said something to her? Did she say something to you?”

Malcolm, noticing my busted-up knuckles, handed me the first aid kit. He then explained, “She didn’t have to say anything. It was written all over her face. I knew it had to be bad, but I never expected it to be this bad. She ran off as fast as those heels she was wearing would allow her before I could even say a word.”

Could this day possibly get any worse?

As if reading my thoughts, Malcolm said, “You had better start praying that Lizzy doesn’t quit this assignment over what you said, or you might be looking for a new team. You need to apologize to her and pray that she forgives you."

Apologize to the only woman who has ever managed to break my heart?

Yeah, this day just got worse.