Page 32 of Last Night Was Fun

They ate in silence again, and when Emmy took a swig of her coffee, she realized he had nothing to wash down his breakfast with.

“Do you want some coffee? Juice?”

“I’ll take some coffee, sure.”

Emmy shifted to slide off her stool and immediately winced.

He popped up when she made a pained sound. “I’ll get it. Sit tight.”

She was in no position to protest, so she lowered herself back to sitting. “Thanks. Mugs are in that cabinet.” She pointed and watched him circle the island into her kitchen. His shirt was tight enough she could see the muscles in his back. She gobbled another bite of chilaquiles for distraction.

“You know, if it’s any consolation, my shoulder is wrecked from last night,” he said as he chose a pod from her K-Cup selection. “You’re not the only one who got hurt.”

She tilted her head in question. “From pitching?” As soon as she said it, the image of him lunging on the mound hit her in a place that would have made her sit up and cross her legs if not for her injury.

“Yes.” Gabe moved his shoulder in a circular motion and squeezed it with his other hand.

“You threw, like, five pitches.”

“Yeah, well...” He trailed off with a sad shrug. “That’s what happens when you have a career-ending injury and then get drunk and go act like it never happened to try to impress your co-workers.”

Emmy slowed her chewing and looked at him in surprised interest. “Wait, what?”

His coffee finished brewing with a gurgle, and he turned around to gather it. “I played ball in college, right?” He turned back to face her from the other side of the island. He propped himself on his hands in a way that popped out the muscles in his arms.

“Yeah...?” she said with an upward inflection, curious to know where he was going and needing a distraction from the sight of his arms. His personal life was as mysterious as hers.

“Well, I was also a cocky piece of shit in college who thought he was invincible. I got in a car accident and broke my collarbone.” He reached for his shirt’s collar and pulled it aside, revealing the contoured curves of his muscular shoulder and part of his chest. Emmyalmost gasped at the visible scar cutting a three-inch line over his skin like a little railroad track. “Changed everything,” he said with a single shake of his head.

Emmy reeled. Several pieces shoved their way into place. “Is that why you—?”

“Never went pro? Yeah. Well, assuming I could have made it, but the chances were looking good. Kind of let down the whole family. It was my parents’ dream to see me play professionally.” His face bent into a sad shape Emmy could tell was well worn.

“Wow, Gabe. I’m sorry.”

His sadness shifted into something softer and warm.

“What?” she asked at the curious new look on his face.

“I don’t think you’ve ever called me by my first name before.”

A heat wave washed over her. She hadn’t even realized she’d done it, and it brought back the memory of how she’d liked the sound of her first name coming from his lips last night, which then, of course, made her think about his lips. She quickly deflected with a scoff. “That’s because you all have trained me to only use last names at work. I bet half the people in the organization don’t evenknowmy first name.”

This pulled a tiny laugh from him that Emmy hated to admit she liked the sound of too. “That’s probably true. I guess it’s just part of the culture.”

“Boys Town,” she muttered into her coffee mug before she took a sip.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. There’s milk in the fridge if you want it for your coffee, but fair warning: it’s oat milk.”

He scrunched his face into a sour pinch. “I’ll pass. I take it black anyway.”

“Black like your soul.”

He threw his hands to his heart and dramatically pouted. “You wound me, Jameson.”

She sputtered a dramatic sound, half grinning despite herself, and spun on her stool to lift her leg. With both hands, she pointed at the inkblot on her thigh. “Youliterallywound me, Olson.”