Sweeping the Series Page 5

  I couldn’t argue with her there. I’d spent a majority of my life working my way to the season I was about to play. And her compliment didn’t go unnoticed, but I was too busy staring at her peaked nipples to acknowledge it.

  “Stop staring at my chest. Jesus, Ren, you and Malcolm will probably get along famously with your maturity level.”

  “Hey, apparently your nipples are reminiscing with the way they’re waving at me,” I said with a shrug. Her olive complexion reddened. She used to beg me with the lips she was biting. I swiped my tongue over my lower lip, and she stared at me blankly before snapping back to focus.

  “So, back to Malcolm. We’ll see how it goes and then take it from there. We won’t release anything until we’re ready.” I was shaking my head while she spoke. “I won’t manipulate the media at the cost of hurting some kid’s feelings.”

  She looked me over with lost, glossy eyes as if she had seen a ghost. “There may be some decency left in you, Ren. And it won’t be manipulating if it’s the truth. What exactly are you doing that is so important with your time? You can’t make a little room for a kid who wants to believe life is better than being passed around like he’s been for the last few years? Like you were?”

  I was in three foster homes before I graduated high school, but I had no complaints. The families were friendly, but I didn’t take part in any family-like activities. I didn’t leave any of the homes as a favorite child. Only one family kept in touch and managed to come to a game. I remembered the day they visited me. They asked for money. I gave it to them and never let them back in. I didn’t even blame them. I wasn’t angry, but I was done pretending I was ever a part of any family. Because I wasn’t. I didn’t have one, but I eventually hoped for my own. Hoped with the woman who sat in front of me. I wanted to have as many kids as I could put in her. I wanted a house full of brown-eyed girls, and if we were lucky, a little slugger to teach ball to.

  “Ren?” Erica looked over at me as I brushed the thoughts aside and wiped my hands free of crumbs. My anger slid back into place.

  “Fine. Tomorrow.” I pushed my chair back, and it slammed into the table behind me.

  “Ren,” she said in a whisper. “I’m sorry if this upsets you.”

  Her posture screamed coward, but her words rang sincerely. It didn’t matter. No matter how relieved I was to just lay eyes on her the day before, or how much I wanted to understand why she left and forgive her, I couldn’t. Not in that moment and maybe not ever. Because in all honesty, it hurt. She. Just. Fucking. Hurt. “Don’t bother being sorry now, Erica,” I said as I swiped my hat from the table and left her there.

  “Makavoy!” Hamlin snapped, breaking me out of my pissed off bench press. How many reps had I done? Did it even fucking matter?

  “Jesus, man, what are you doing pushing and without a spot? You’re a toddler,” Hamlin scolded as he pulled the bar up and set it on the rest.

  Grabbing my gear, I followed him onto the field where he directed me.

  “Go warm up with Hembrey and meet me back here for some mitt work. I have some things I want to go over.”

  “Aye, aye,” I muttered as I paused my feet before I spoke at his retreating back. “Who’s that with Hembrey?”

  Hamlin was already gone as I took another step forward and my mood lifted when I saw the stance of the catcher. “No fucking way.” I jogged over to see Rafe rocket a ball toward the man in my place behind home plate.

  “Pracht, what in the hell are you doing here?” I asked like a giddy fucking school girl.

  Andy stood and grinned at me behind his mask. “Sup, Tin Man? I heard you were having problems with your period. When are you assholes going to let me quit this game?”

  He threw the ball back to Rafe and tossed my mitt at me before we clasped hands and bumped shoulders.

  “It’s you that’s on the rag, isn’t it? Now that you’re all housebroken. How’s the kid?”

  “I had twins, idiot,” Andy said with the shake of his head. “They are fine. You want to explain to me why this dipshit here decided that I needed to uproot my family this season to come babysit you?”

  No matter how much he protested, I knew he was happy to be back on the field. It showed on his face, in his posture. It was in his blood.

  “You probably booked a flight the minute you got the call,” I said, sliding my hand into my glove. “Thanks for ruining my mitt with your fat-ass fingers.”

  “One of us has to use it properly,” he barked. “You sure you want to stick your hand in that without wiping it down? I changed a few diapers before I got here.”

  I cringed at the thought, and Andy had a good laugh at my expense.

  “I bet you still look at people who sneeze like they are terrorists,” he joked as Rafe approached us from the mound.

  “What’s going on?” I asked between them. “Are we having a slumber party? Andy, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your balls are gray and your knees are shit, so I know you aren’t playing.”

  Andy ran a hand through his goatee. “Fuck yourself, Makavoy. I’m here to get you through the season.”

  “A consultant of sorts,” Rafe added with a clap on my back. Pride stood in the way of me being fully happy with Andy’s arrival.

  I studied Rafe. “Think I can’t call the balls anymore, Hembrey?”

  Rafe shook his head. “No, man, not at all. But what could it hurt?”

  There was something I couldn’t put my finger on, but I let it go because, honestly, nothing was sweeter than having them both in my corner. If management didn’t have a problem with it, I sure as shit didn’t. Andy was an expert strategist, and though I prided myself on being the same, I put that pride in the backseat when it came to the logistics of baseball. Masterminded shit went into planning every game, and Andy was a welcome ally.

  “Glad you’re here, man,” I said honestly and clapped his back.

  “Beautiful fucking reunion, guys,” Rafe taunted, “but I’m warmed up. So, let’s do our jobs.”

  He was full of fire and feeling himself, so Andy and I indulged. And for that short time on the field, just the three of us, I felt a swell in my chest. I might never have had a real family in the sense that everyone else did, but I did have brothers in baseball.

  And maybe Erica was right. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give that to someone else.

  “How’s it going?” Rowe asked as I stood on the foul line and watched the commotion on the field. The catchers were getting pummeled. It was grueling for them the first few days of training. Every sharp arm in the Cactus League was firing at them. Ren seemed to be holding his own, but I knew he’d be exhausted by the end of the day.

  “It’s going,” I said, gripping my phone as I watched Andy Pracht and Ren exchange brief words. Rafe’s call to bring Andy to Arizona was a good one. I knew Andy was the perfect man to have in Ren’s corner if the season got sticky.

  “Tell me more, woman! Was he surprised to see you?”

  “Yeah, that was clear,” I said, remembering his searing ice gaze across the conference table the day before and the way he studied me at breakfast that morning. “Rowe, I can’t even lie. I don’t want to. The minute I saw him, I wanted to fly across the table and . . . I don’t know . . . Help me.”

  “Just remember all the reasons why you left.”

  “One. One reason,” I said as I bundled up against the morning chill while emotion fought its way up my throat. “Well, one reason that sticks out.”

  “Which was?” she prompted.

  “Break the cycle.”

  “You weren’t talking like that here,” she reminded. “You’re already disintegrating.”

  “Yeah, well, with the distance between us, I got stronger. And when I saw him splashed all over the web with a new piece of ass every day, it was easier not to like him.”

  “Remember, he’s probably bedded women who don’t know how to spell syphilis.”

  I cracked a smile. “How do you spell it?”

>   A short pause.

  I couldn’t help my laugh. “You’re Googling it aren’t you?”

  “Shut up, bitch. I’m trying to help here.” We both chuckled as I stared at my Nikes because the alternative was too painful.

  “But looking at him, Rowe. Talking to him. It’s hard. I’m already letting it get the best of me.”

  “This isn’t good,” she said with a sympathetic tone. “Not this soon.”

  “I know, trust me. It’s like the minute I saw him, I uncorked, and I can’t seem to get my shit together.”

  Rowe sighed. “You still love him.”

  “Of course I do, and I hate him just as much. It’s a fine line I’m walking, and every two minutes one emotion or the other rears its ugly head. I’m flailing here.”

  “Jesus,” she whispered. “Listen, I know this is hard, but there has to be some common ground. Is he being civil?”

  “I don’t know if you could call it that. I’m getting whiplash; hot one minute, cold and indifferent the next. I think he hates me. I need to get the hell out of here.”

  “Figures.” The voice was a low rumble behind me. “You didn’t even make it twenty-four hours.”

  “Is that him?” Rowe asked, her voice in a panic for me.

  “Rowe, I’ll call you back.”

  “RESIST! RESIST!” she urged as I cut her off, slid my phone into my pocket, and turned to face Ren.

  As his stunning eyes pierced me, I felt myself falter even more. I cursed my stupidity in thinking I could brush our past away and still be professional. But I wasn’t going down without a fight.

  “It’s rude to listen in on other people’s conversations.”

  “It’s rude to quit a job without notice,” he retorted. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m not quitting. I was complaining. And you’re my only client at the moment. I just thought I’d come and check in.”

  “We had breakfast three hours ago, nothing to see,” he said crossly. “But I bet you can book a flight out right now, sweetheart. And if your phone doesn’t have enough signal, you can use mine.”

  In an attempt to ignore the sting of his words, I gave as good as I got. “You know it’s not a prerequisite to be an asshole because you’re good looking and talented.”

  “So, do you need my credit card? You can consider the price of the ticket severance pay.”

  “Are we back here again?” I asked. “So soon?”

  “Aren’t you the one who just said you wanted to leave? Look,” he said as he walked toward me and began to button my windbreaker, “I appreciate your effort, but this won’t work. I only have three words I need to hear this season, ‘strike’ and ‘don’t stop.’ So, unless you plan on moaning those last two anytime soon, you should make yourself scarce.”

  I let him fasten the buttons as he spoke and stared at his full lips. His jaw had filled out and so had he since the last time I saw him. He was beautiful at twenty-four and a god at twenty-seven. I had no doubt he would age to perfection.

  “I’ve got everything I need this season. You being here isn’t going to make a difference. I have no interest in anything but baseball. This isn’t necessary. You aren’t necessary. I’ll let my work speak for itself.”

  “Not necessary,” I muttered as his cold eyes kept the focus on his task of packaging me up and sending me away. His words hurt, but his actions disagreed with what he was saying.

  His fingers seemed to linger as he kept his eyes down.

  “I mean no offense,” he drew out.

  “Offense taken,” I snapped. “You can’t fire me; you didn’t hire me.”

  “I can, Erica,” he said, working through the buttons and tugging my body gently toward his. “The club isn’t going to pay for my reputation. You’re sorely mistaken if you think they will. It was good to see you, though.”

  Letting me go abruptly, he turned without glancing my way, thoroughly dismissing me. Guilt began to swallow me as I did all I could to stay planted where he left me.

  “I have to keep this job, Ren. Okay? If I go back to New York, I lose it.”

  He looked over his shoulder, ready for war, but froze when he saw my face. “Erica—”

  “This job is my life, just like baseball is yours. It’s all I’ve got.”

  Ren cursed as he changed his direction and moved back toward me with clenched fists.

  Suddenly aware of the tears streaming down my cheeks, I wiped at them furiously. “Sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

  “You’re still doing it,” he said as another line of tears took the place of the ones I’d wiped away. It was too much too soon. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the ambush of feelings that circulated when he was close to me. I couldn’t deny the ache of wanting him, the pain of losing him, the guilt of leaving him. The man who haunted my dreams and stunted any relationship I’d attempted in the last two years. I knew my mistake, and I thought I had paid for it. But his indifference to me, his cruelty, hurt like hell. My heart was hemorrhaging simultaneously with old memories and new hurts.

  “I’ll stop,” I said as my voice shook and my lips trembled.

  “Uh, you’re crying even harder now,” he said with an anger-laced voice.

  “I’m stopping.”

  “No, actually you aren’t,” he said, taking a step forward and gripping my collar. “If it means that much to you, stay.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, swallowing. “I’m . . . tired I guess.”

  “Okay, damn it, stop,” he said as he shook me gently like a Neanderthal with a broken remote. I could feel the anger, the frustration rolling off him. His hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

  “Ren,” I said brokenly. “I’m sorry.”

  “I heard you the first time,” he whispered, refusing to meet my eyes.

  “Not about crying,” I sniffed.

  “I know,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just go back to the hotel.”

  I was a fucking mess, and I had only been in Arizona a day. I was humiliated.

  “Okay.”

  “This isn’t a good idea,” he said, finally bringing the bluest eyes imaginable to meet mine. “You being here.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t hate you,” he clipped out.

  “Yeah,” I huffed out a humorless laugh, “but, I hate you, I hate what you did. I hated seeing you with all those women. I didn’t deserve to see how fast you moved on, Ren.”

  “You didn’t leave me much of a fucking choice,” he hissed. “Go.”

  “Tell me how you did it,” I implored in a whisper. “Tell me how you moved on like that.”

  He cradled my face, wiping the blinding tears from my eyes. I’d lost the battle that day, and he knew it. He had the advantage of my regret, and I let him have it. I was sure he wouldn’t answer me as my eyes flooded with an apology two years too late.

  “Who says I did?” I tried to lower my head, but he kept us locked together. “But it was a long time ago, Erica. I got your message. I think it’s past time we closed this door.”

  I swallowed back a sob as he shut down the ridiculous notion that he may ever look at me the way he once did, extinguishing the hope that had sparked inside me the minute I saw him again. It was over for him, in his mind, in his heart. And I had thought the same for me. Coming to Arizona had been a colossal mistake.

  “I can’t do this,” Ren snapped, gesturing between us.

  “Of course you can’t. It’s the most crucial time in your career,” I said bitterly.

  Ren’s eyes flicked to mine. “You’re goddamned right it is.”

  “I get it, I truly do,” I said softly. “I’ve always understood. But you never did.” I hooked the last tear away from my eye with my finger.

  “What are you saying?” he snapped defensively. I let the rip spread while my heart lay bruised and bare for him to see. As embarrassed as I was, it was all out there: my regret, his anger, and the hidden animosity that ended us. All of i
t spilled onto the field. I wanted to explain to him I knew his passion, that I understood it more than he could ever know. But it wasn’t the time, and I may not ever get it again. If his heart was out of it, there was no point.

  “I’m going to go get myself together. Just forget this ever happened, and I promise you it won’t happen again.”

  “Forgotten,” he whispered, looking over his shoulder, holding up his hand to Rafe, gesturing for another minute.

  He brought his eyes back to mine and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. I know something cruel was on the edge of his tongue, so I turned and left him there on the field, my heart beating wildly and my hair flying around me. Just like my emotions.

  That night I made my way toward the hotel bar and stopped short when I saw that Rafe, Andy, and Ren were laughing next to a cozy fire. Ren was everywhere I dared to tread. His laugh was like the sting of a thousand needles in my chest. He seemed carefree, while I felt like the earth was shaking beneath me. He had his team, he had support. Maybe he did have exactly what he needed. I could call Zellner, tell him he’d found other representation. It’s not like he could fault me for it. But in a way, helping Ren through the season might prove my apology to be sincere. I wanted him to understand my reasons for leaving him. Even if the effort was futile.

  And if we didn’t have a future, at least I could mend a part of the past. Our break up was due to my hang up.

  He might have what he needed to lock the door on us, but as it turned out, I didn’t. And if I was going to get through a season, I might need my own backup.

  “You could have invited her to join us,” Rafe said as he looked in the direction Erica left. It was a miracle he caught sight of her because she’d stopped short directly behind him. Rafe had eagle eyes, which were a great advantage on the field.

  “I didn’t want her to join us,” I said as I tossed back the last of my beer. “What’s the deal with her, Ren?” Andy scrutinized me as Rafe sat back, watching the TV above my head, or pretending to.