I saw her from across the room. Her smile was what caught my eye, then it was the way she laughed and held on to her brother’s hand, her brother who had cerebral palsy.

It was the way she’d lean into him, hold him, as if he was the most wonderful human she’d ever met.

The fact that she was absolutely breathtaking with piercing blue eyes had nothing to do with it.

It was her infectious laughter.

Her kind heart.

Her dedication to her family.

In a matter of seconds, I wanted to know her, wanted to find out her name, wanted to be in her orbit. Wanted to be a recipient of her warmth and affection.

I watched her from across the room, how she interacted with every person who came up to her, and when I was finally granted the opportunity to introduce myself, my breath caught in my throat when our hands connected. I felt my heart slam against the cage in my chest. And I knew, in that moment, with our hands mid shake, my life would never be the same.

Her name is Natalie.

Sister to my new teammate Jason Orson and his twin brother Joseph.

Director of Jason’s foundation, The Lineup.

And the reason why I’m utterly fucked.

Because while I started to grow attached to this magnetic and beautiful woman, when I told my sister about her, she informed me there was a ring on Natalie’s finger.

A ring that didn’t belong to me.

Hope plummeted in the matter of seconds as I felt the color from my besotted face drain into a puddle of remorse.

She was married.

She is fucking married.

See? Totally fucked.

I’ve been crushing so hard, because even a month later, I still think about her. I can still hear her laugh, see her smile, feel her hand in mine.

I want her.

Fucking bad.

They say time will heal all wounds, well for me, the more time passes, the more my wound is exposed and tormented.

Cory Potter is crushing on a married woman . . .

That is why I am completely and utterly . . . fucked.

Chapter One

CORY

One Month Earlier

“Are you okay?” I ask Milly, my sister, who’s shaking.

She gives me a curt nod and takes a deep breath. “That was . . . amazing.” She looks up at me and sighs. “I never thought I’d have that kind of opportunity in my life.” She shyly smiles and says, “Dreams really do come true.”

“Uh . . . they came true when you married me,” Carson, her husband, says, pulling her in close to his side to press a kiss to her temple.

Despite it being a few years since they married, I’m still not quite used to seeing my baby sister with a guy, let alone the starting second baseman for the Chicago Bobcats.

Flashing a cheeky grin at her husband, Milly playfully says, “Oh yeah, total dream come true.”

Carson’s face falls and he says, “Why was that said in a sarcastic tone?”

She grips her fists tightly and brings them to her chest. Dreamily, she glances at the ceiling of the event space and says, “Carson, I love you, but I just played baseball with some of the best names in the sport, and I rocked their worlds.”

She really fucking did.

My kid sister has been a baseball fanatic since the first time she saw me pick up a baseball bat. She’s learned every skill and piece of knowledge one could possess about the sport. She is vastly intelligent when it comes to the mechanics of a swing, so much so, that she’s a highly sought after coach in the state of Illinois. She’s always wanted to play with me, but never had the opportunity, because you guessed it . . . she’s a girl.

Fucking ridiculous if you ask me. She’s a better hitter than half the pitchers on my team.

So when Jason Orson, the soon-to-be starting catcher for the Chicago Rebels, and my current team, asked if I wanted to participate in the fundraiser game, I had to ask if Milly could join. But Carson beat me to it. And I’m okay with that, because it shows me he’s the right man for her. He knows her. Her wants. Her loves. And he makes sure he shows her that every way he can. As he fucking should. That’s how our dad has loved our mom, and that’s what Milly deserves. Every girl, really.

“You were a total ringer,” Carson says. “And sexy as hell in those baseball pants.”

“Can you not say that shit when I’m around?” I ask, feeling an annoying shiver run up my spine. “It’s bad enough I caught you two making out before the game.”

Milly’s face turns bright red as Carson’s chest puffs in pride. “Can’t help it. I love this girl,” Carson says, just as a waiter passes with a tray of coconut shrimp. “Don’t mind if I do,” he says, grabbing one for everyone.

I take one from him and together, we all cheers the shrimp and then take a bite. “I haven’t been able to talk to you since the end of the season, so how has your time with the Rebels been?” Carson asks.

I bite the side of my cheek and look away, trying to handle the raging emotions I’ve tried tamping down since I got the call from my agent that I was traded.

Fucking traded from my long-standing team, the Baltimore Storm. I was drafted by them, put through their farm system, and then earned a starting position as their first baseman a few years later. From the age of twenty-one to thirty-five, I’ve been a Baltimore Storm . . . until the front office decided to unload my hefty contract onto another team midseason so they could build the team with cheaper players.