Who’s winning?”<br />“I don’t have a f*cking clue nor do I f*cking care.”<br />Echo’s head ticks back.<br />“Back off, Beth.” I cross the room, drop a kiss on the curve of Echo’s neck and whisper in her ear, “She’d rip me to pieces, too, right now. She’s a b*tch when the Yankees play.”<br />Her eyebrows rise. “Is she a Red Sox fan?”<br />Isaiah chuckles and we both throw him a glare, but he doesn’t notice as he’s absorbed in a car manual.<br />“Beth hates baseball.”<br />Echo’s eyes dart from Beth to the television to me then she waves her hand in the air for an explanation.<br />“She watches,” I explain. “Yankees only. It’s what she does and there are some things we don’t question about each other.”<br />“Just the Yankees?” Echo whispers.<br />“Just the Yankees,” I repeat.<br />“And she hates baseball?”<br />“With a passion.”<br />“That’s...” Echo says in a hushed tone. “That’s messed up.