Page 152 of The Path to Loving Him
“Thank you, Aubree,” I say as I squeeze her. “I appreciate the talk and the hug.”
She steps away. “Cassidy would have done it.”
“Yes . . . yes, she would have.”
“Picking up tickets under Gabby Brinkman,” Gabby says as she shifts on her feet next to the will call office, looking nervous and excited at the same time.
The entire drive from Almond Bay to the stadium was filled with podcasts. Yup, we didn’t talk. Not a single word. I saw it the minute she got in the truck—she was not in the talking mood. She’s bottled up with nerves, so I put on one of my favorite podcasts, Smartless, and we just listened.
It was probably for the best because I know if I spoke, I would have said something stupid like . . . I like you and I don’t know how to deal with the feelings, but I’d like to deal with the feelings with you, and what are your thoughts on the matter?
Really not the time.
So I kept my mouth shut.
“Can I see ID?” the attendant asks.
Gabby digs her ID out of her purse while I take in the gray stone-encased ballpark. One of the prettiest, in my opinion. Right off the bay so you can smell the salt water, and near bars and restaurants where music plays and pre-gaming occurs. There’s a rich history within the walls, and you can almost feel the electricity in the air, knowing that the Bombers are close to clinching the wild card slot for the playoffs.
“Great. Here you go, sweetheart.”
“Thank you,” Gabby says, taking her ID and the tickets from the attendant.
“Enjoy the game.”
Gabby waves to her, then stares down at the tickets. “Do you mind if I keep both of these?”
“You can do whatever you want with them,” I say, my voice sounding weird, probably because I haven’t used it for the past three hours. “Are you sure you want me to go in with you? I know I said I want to see his first at bat, but I can sit in one of the bars across from the stadium and wait.”
She shakes her head, and then, to my surprise, she takes my hand. “I need you here, next to me.”
A lump builds in my throat because fuck, is that something I wanted to hear. “Sure, anything you need.”
Together, hand in hand, we walk up to the large gates and go through the metal detector before showing our tickets to the attendant, who scans them and waves us in. Immediately, we’re thrust into the hustle and bustle of the stadium. Since we have early access, we’re not swarmed by crowds, but vendors are still setting up their kiosks, carts are being wheeled around, and a few people mill about, deciding what they want to get for food.
“What do you want to do first?”
“I need Bombers gear,” she says. “Right away.”
“You got it,” I say. “Follow me.”
Since I’ve been to the stadium quite a few times, I know exactly where the team store is—right past the main stairs that lead to the higher decks. Thankfully, because of our early access, the store’s pretty empty, so we have time to look around. One of the things I love about the Bombers is their untraditional colors. You think baseball, and you think blue, red, and white. A high percentage of the teams have those colors, but not the Bombers. They went with teal for the ocean and yellow for the lighthouses around the bay.
When we reach the store, I take her straight to the women’s section, where she starts pawing through the different shirts.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, wanting to help.
“I want something traditional. Nothing like this.” She holds up a pink shirt with the Bombers logo in white.
“Yeah, I get you,” I say. “Want a jersey like mine?”
I’m wearing the teal jersey with the yellow Bomber logo. It’s their best seller and the colors everyone wears during playoff games when the team is home because the entire stadium lights up in teal.
“I think so. I like that a lot.”
“Over here,” I say and lead her to the jerseys. “What’s your size?”
“Medium.”
