Sweeping the Series Page 6
“We dated and broke up. Nothing more.”
“Seems like more,” Andy said.
“It may be more for her, but I shut that shit down today. Nothing will distract me this season, nothing and no one,” I fired off adamantly. I was talking a good game, but the truth was, my chest had been burning since I saw her cry openly in front of me. She was trying to apologize, but I was still too angry, even after the years between us. And I wanted her as far away as possible because it burned. I wanted nothing more than to grip her to me and comfort her. But she wasn’t mine to comfort. She took that away from both of us. I shook my head to ward off any thoughts as I looked up to see them both staring at me. “I’ve got it.”
“You don’t have shit. She’s already screwing with your head,” Andy pointed out.
Rafe came to her defense. “She’s here to do a job, no more, so let it be.”
I looked over at Rafe, who was staring red-faced at Andy. They were having a mental debate, and it looked like Rafe won that round before he turned to me.
“She’s by herself in a hotel in the middle of Arizona with a quarter of the League. She’s probably miserable.”
“If there’s anything that can make her miserable, it’s baseball,” I agreed. “But it’s not my problem.”
But it was, and I was hellbent on trying to figure out how to solve it. The best solution I could come up with was distance. I’d caught myself flirting with her at breakfast, and that had quickly escalated to lusting.
My line of thinking was fucked. She left me. I lashed out. We were done. End of story. I couldn’t take any more chances with her. I wouldn’t. She had ruined me once, and I’d let her. She wouldn’t get another chance to do it again.
I paced her floor with my head spinning. I drank too much. I needed first-aid and fast, or I would be shit for training in the morning. With my frustration circulating like the whiskey, I couldn’t help but tread the carpet outside her hotel door. I needed . . . something and it was tearing me apart.
She had bared herself to me that morning. I saw it all, her regret, her apology. Erica was raw with the loss of us, and it should have brought me comfort, but all it brought was restlessness. Leave it to the brown liquor to make me forget about the promises that I’d made to myself.
My head spun as my strides got quicker. I was like an angry lion ready to rip the floor apart to get to her. And then what? More tears, more apologies? And who would that help?
Still, I was hungry for more. I wanted to taste her tears on my tongue, to silence her apology with my cock. I wanted her to suffer while I buried my misery inside her. She was sorry. Fine, but did she regret it? Did she want more with me? Slamming my palm against the elevator button, I braced my hands on either side of the door and hung my head.
Two years, and with every day, every hour, every second, I knew I still loved her. I knew I wouldn’t forget her and didn’t want to. She was the one woman who knew me. Aside from my high school sweetheart, she was the only one I’d let in, only to be surprised by her.
She was it. I had a one-woman heart. I’d always been a faithful man. I had no problem with monogamy, and it wasn’t a choice, it was the way I was built. It’d always been assumed I was a heartbreaker and a playboy because of the way I looked, but my insides didn’t match that fucked-up persona.
At the heart of me lay a man who would bleed openly for the right woman. And that woman was Erica Wild. But my faithful heart was a fucking curse, especially at that moment. Because it refused to let me acknowledge I was wrong about her, about us.
Even as I settled into the role I was expected to play, I didn’t play it well. I tried everything, and no part of me wanted to forget. Loving her was torture. And the realization that I was still so much in love with her, well, that was the cruelest punishment.
Guilt I shouldn’t have felt washed over me at that moment. I regretted everything I’d done with any other woman. I’d hurt her back, and she made it known today. I had no reason to feel guilty.
Damn her.
“Ren?”
“Don’t,” I warned as she stood behind me. Never in my life had I been so angry. “Go back to your room.”
She didn’t move. I could smell vanilla and mint. It drifted through my nose, and my chest burned at the memory of her taste. Throat constricting, I slammed my palm against the button.
“Go,” I threatened, my voice a warning.
“No.”
I whirled on her then, her eyes bulging as I closed in. She was in a T-shirt and pajama pants, without a stitch of makeup, and looked so innocent at that moment. I hated her for it because I knew she wasn’t.
In an instant, I had her pinned against the wall, my lips capturing hers in a deep kiss, my tongue tasting every inch of her mouth. She was gasping as she gripped me tightly to her, her moan vibrating through us both as our tongues dueled hungrily.
And I’d never felt so fucking alive. I lifted her to wrap her legs around me, and she squeezed my hips with her thighs while I ground my rock-hard cock right where she needed it.
“Ren,” she gasped, eyes closed as we shared breath. Again, I devoured her, leaving her limp before I ripped my lips away and glared down at her.
“I’m so fucking mad at you.”
“I know,” she countered with swollen lips.
“Damn you,” I cursed as I rubbed myself against her and sank my teeth into her neck.
“Ren, please,” she begged, working her hips and clawing at my shoulders.
Her heavy breath tickled my ear as I touched where I wanted to touch and began to use her to stifle the pain. But she was the source of it.
It was then that I stopped myself and slowly lowered her to her feet. I had to break unhealthy patterns, starting with her. I’d promised myself, and that was the most crucial promise for me to keep. She hadn’t allowed me to keep the promises I’d made to her.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” I said, stepping away from her. Chest heaving, she gaped up at me in a daze. “I guess some things don’t change. We were always good at fucking.”
“Don’t say that,” she said, taking a step toward me. “We were more than that.”
“Were we? I thought so too. Except you left me, and then you wouldn’t talk to me.”
“I couldn’t. You wouldn’t listen to me.”
“I’m listening,” I snapped, shoving my hands in my jeans and staring at the floor.
She was quick to speak. “It was selfish. I know that now. I knew it then. But I didn’t want to be that woman. My whole life couldn’t revolve around you and baseball, Ren.”
“I needed you,” I said thickly.
She crossed her arms defensively. “But for how long?”
My eyes snapped to hers. “How about my whole goddamn life? I was going to ask you to marry me.”
“I know.” She swallowed. “I saw the ring.”
She hung her head when she saw the surprise in my eyes. “Ren, I was terrified.”
“You saw the ring?”
“Yes,” she said as her eyes clouded with more tears. “I didn’t want to be a club wife. I never wanted that. But there are things you should know. Things I didn’t tell you. Things that I should have told you.”
The doors finally opened as I took a step back into them. My heart crushed under the weight of her words; my voice was gravel. I couldn’t look at her another minute.
“I promise you, as far as I’m concerned, you’ll get what you want.”
Her face crumbled as the doors closed between us.
The sun had gone down, and I shivered in my windbreaker as I watched Ren in the batting cage. I’d walked the entirety of the Salt River Fields complex to find him. The park lights were still on, and there were a few lingering players talking shop.
After a week of watching games and radio silence from Ren, I knew I had to somehow bridge the gap between us. Though he executed the schedule I sent via text, he wasn’t speaking to me at all. No reply text, not a word.
“Your eye has improved, tenfold,” I said, loud enough for him to hear and impossible for him to ignore. He ignored me anyway and kept his gaze on his mechanical batter.
“Ren, I know things are weird, but I want to try to get along with you.”
Bat hoisted and ready, he swung and cracked the ball, sending it flying to the top of the net, before he moved back into position.
“Rafe’s on fire,” I said, as if my conversation wasn’t one-sided. “His pitching is remarkable.”
Silence.
“I met his wife at the last game. Alice. She’s a spitfire. I really like her. She’s no bullshit. She asked if I wanted to go skydiving over the desert,” I chuckled. “She’s a little daredevil. I love that about her. She reminds me of my roommate, Rowe. You would like her.”
Ren’s chest rose and fell, the only sign of life, his poise perfect before he swung at another ball as if I wasn’t there.
“I met Andy’s wife, too. April, oh God, her accent is hilarious. I didn’t know Andy brewed beer, that’s pretty cool. They said you used to go to Charleston and hang out once in a while. It sounds like a great place. I’d like to go there someday.”
Silence. And the next crack of the bat filtered through me like the growing crack in my chest. I took a deep breath and tried again.
“We’re all going out this week. Alice, April, and me. I think Rafe and Andy arranged that we meet. They’re great guys.”
“Is there anyone who isn’t fucking great?” Ren finally grunted out as he overcompensated his footing and the ball nailed him in the wrist. I glanced at the radar. The ball had hit him at 86 miles per hour.
“GODDAMMIT!” Ren roared as he dropped the bat and clutched his arm.
I rushed toward him as he let out a heavy string of curses while he exited the cage.
“Let me see it!” I said as I chased him around in a circle. “Ren!”
“It’s fine,” he bit out before he stopped his feet and looked up at me with ice-blue eyes.
I lifted my hands. “Don’t blame this on me. You know damn well you stepped into that. Now let me see.”
Reluctantly, he gave me his arm and my jaw dropped. “It’s already purple.”
“It’s fine,” he snapped as he pulled his arm back.
“It’s not fine, you need to have it looked at.”
“Leave it, Erica.”
“What is it with you men? If your dick were that color, you would fly in a specialist.”
“My dick’s just fine. If you want to drop to your knees, I’m more than happy to let you inspect it.”
The slap I gave him was instant and almost playful, but my eyes told him I meant it.
“I will not ever be talked to like that. Unless I’m in the mood, and you know damn well I’m not in the mood.”
I turned to walk away and heard his chuckle and his curse. “Erica, wait.”
“Enough already, Ren. I’m done making nice. You want to keep this animosity going, you can go at it alone. I’m done fighting with you. God, just once I would like to have a conversation with you where we aren’t aiming for each other’s jugulars.”
“Well, it’s good to see some fight left in you. You’ve been walking around like a corpse since you got here,” he yelled at my retreating back.
“That’s only because I’ve had you to deal with.”
“We don’t have to be best friends, Erica. It’s not necessary. Your small talk, unnecessary.”
“Got it, asshole. I’ll be sure to avoid it at all costs. Jesus, we sure are making up now for the fighting we didn’t do as a couple.”
“You have to admit we’re pretty spectacular at it,” he snapped sarcastically as he strode toward the parking lot.
“Go to hell, Makavoy!”
“I’m already there, Wild!”
A mirage in the shape of my roommate and best friend stood at the bar when I got back to the hotel from the field. I knew it could only be wishful thinking when I saw the sleek bob and spiked heels. But when I saw the side of her profile, I barreled toward her. She caught sight of me just as I tackled her, spilling her wine and hugging the life out of her.
“Damn it, that was a fresh glass,” she chuckled as she hugged me back.
“Thank God you’re here,” I said with a shaky voice.
“Oh, babe, is the world kicking your ass?” she asked softly as she held me to her.
“You have no idea. The kids won’t play with me,” I whined.
“I had a feeling last time we talked. I’m at your disposal for the night. I have to fly back out tomorrow.”
I pulled back. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s a fly-through.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. But it’s the best I could do with your SOS.”
“It’s cool,” I said, smiling. “I’ve got you now. And I could use some fun. Hey, I’ve got an idea. Are you up for some company?”
“Sure,” she said, motioning to the bartender for another glass of wine.
I pulled out my phone and shot a quick text off to Alice and April.
“I have a feeling it’s going to be one of those nights,” I said as I ordered my first beer.
Two hours later, the four of us were primping in my hotel room. Alice and April had found a last-minute sitter, and the four of us planned on wrecking whatever available scene Scottsdale had to offer. Seeing Alice and Rowe in the same room only confirmed my suspicions. They were personality doppelgangers and had made quick work of becoming friends. April and I watched them go back and forth like a bunch of rabid squirrels while we took our time painting ourselves up.
“I’m too old for this shit,” April sighed.
“No, you aren’t. You don’t look your age, either.”
“Still, there’s got to be some rule for going to the club in your mid-thirties,” she said as she straightened her boobs in her dress. “I can’t even get these bastards to cooperate, let alone look perky.”
“There will be none of that tonight,” Alice said sharply as she glossed her lips. “We are not old. We are respectable married women with families who still have the ability to go and shake our asses on a whim. Don’t forget you’re the inventor of the booty opera.”
“The booty opera?” I asked with a smile.
“Yeah,” April said as Alice began to belt out “Bump N’ Grind” as if she were singing at the opera. Rowe cracked up and looked back at me. “I’m so glad you called these two.”
“Right?” I said with a giggle. “Okay, tell me how this booty opera works.”
“You just mix a little R&B, preferably the dirty kind, and sing it as if it was an opera. I do it to get myself out of a bad mood. It’s impossible to do it without smiling.”
In the elevator, twenty minutes later, we were singing Keith Sweat’s “Nobody” in horrible soprano, dressed to the nines, and laughing our asses off. As we walked out to the lobby, the girls caught sight of Rafe, Andy, and Ren at the bar. I braved a glance their way to see Ren’s eyes cover me in slow sweep as Rafe and Andy stopped their wives for a quick kiss and a warning to behave themselves.
Alice walked away with half her lipstick, her eyes in a fog as Ren and I stared each other down. He looked pissed . . . and hot in a simple T-shirt and jeans, his hat forever backward, as he sipped his beer.
Rowe leaned over with a “He’s so fucking the hell out of you right now in his head,” before she grabbed my hand and tugged me forward with further instructions. “Let him see that ass before you go.”
We walked through the hotel lobby arm-in-arm, hellbent on reclaiming some of our youth without distractions or talk of “mummying”—Alice’s rule—or anything else that brought the weight of our everyday.
“We’ve still got it,” April said as she sashayed out the door.
; “We’re not old yet,” Alice chimed in agreement.
Rowe and I gave each other knowing smiles as we joined them outside. We were getting a lot of attention from the passersby, mostly ball players, as Alice spoke up.
“I’ll drive.”
“Nobody’s driving,” I said as our SUV arrived. “In fact,” I pulled out Ren’s credit card, the one I’d commissioned from him for PR related expenses. “Tonight’s drinks are on Ren Makavoy.”
Nine hours later . . .
“Oh, God,” April gasped out next to me in bed, her southern drawl intact even though it came out as a croak. “I have to be a mom today,” she sobbed into her pillow next to me. “To twins. And not just any twins, twins who bite. Little shits!”
I chuckled and held my head as the onset of a headache hit.
Rowe chose that moment to rise from the floor, like a corpse next to the bed, and turned to me with raccoon eyes. Her lips peeled away from her teeth as she spoke.
“I’m so phukin dersty!” Her mouth was foaming as she stared at me with glassy-eyed desperation.
Scared for my safety, I quickly grabbed the hotel’s ten-dollar bottle of water from the nightstand and handed it to her. I heard every ounce hit her throat as she downed it with exaggerated gulps. Once it was empty, she handed it back to me and slowly sank back down out of sight on the floor.
From the other side of the bed, I heard Alice pipe up.
“If you guys are up, please help. I’ve been down here and awake for an hour, but I can’t get up. I think I threw my back out twerking. And I really, really need to pee.”
April chuckled as she ripped herself away from the bed. “Come on, girl, I’ve got you.”
“Oh, God,” Alice groaned as she was hoisted from the floor. “This is bad, so bad.”
April groaned in response. “Look the other way, Alice. You could gag a maggot. Your breath reeks of Fireball. I can’t handle it.”
I chuckled as I realized I was in the best shape of the four of us and may be able to handle looking at myself in the mirror that day. Usually, after a night of drinking like that, I had done something stupid enough to bury my head in the sand for a solid week. I didn’t remember twerking or doing unsolicited body shots like Rowe.