by Kate, Jiffy
“Well, we weren’t trying to invite ourselves over,” Jack says with a laugh.
Joann just shakes her head. “Tell us what we can bring.”
“Just yourselves,” Charlotte assures her. “We’ll keep it small.”
No. No. Not small. I’ll definitely have to talk her into inviting some other players. If it’s only the six of us, there’s no way I’ll be able to blend into the background or avoid having a conversation with Ross.
My heartbeat increases and I start feeling like I might hyperventilate.
“Casey, honey,” Joann says, taking my hand. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
“It’s the uh…lighting,” I say, shaking my head as I swallow past the lump in my throat. “And the hot dogs. I had a footlong.”
“Case,” Charlotte says. “You do look pale. Are you going to be sick?”
Wetting my lips, I still feel like I can’t catch my breath and also like I might be sick. “I think I need a drink of water…or maybe splash some water on my face… I’ll just be…” I motion to the women’s bathroom down at the end of the corridor and start walking.
“Could you tell Bo that Casey wasn’t feeling well and we went on home?” I hear Charlotte ask. “We’ll see y’all tomorrow.”
I duck into the bathroom and head straight for a stall.
“You sure you’re okay?” Charlotte asks a few minutes later, handing me a wet towel under the door.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “I think something didn’t settle well.”
When I step out, she inspects me with her eyes. “Ready to go home?”
I nod and she links her arm with mine. As we walk out of the bathroom and down the corridor, I wait for her questions, but they never come. She gives me a respite and by the time our Uber shows up, all conversation of the dinner party is put to rest and we talk about random things until we get home.
Those secrets I hate so much are festering but I need just a little more time.
“I’m headed to bed,” I tell her, not waiting around for an inquisition or guilt to overcome me. “Tell Bo congrats on the win.”
“Night,” Charlotte calls out, concern laced in her tone. “Feel better.”
When I make it to my room, I head straight for the bathroom and brush my teeth. Once my face is washed and the stressful day is behind me, I feel my entire body deflate like a balloon. I’ve been on edge since I woke up this morning, but now, in the sanctuary of my room, I feel like I can breathe freely.
I’ve never really had much of a desire to live on my own, but I think it’s time to find an apartment or something. I’ve always loved living with my sister. It’s easy and comfortable. Plus, with me working for her, I’m never late for the office. But now that she and Bo are together and he’s moved in, and I’m splitting my time working for Charlotte and Ross, I’m starting to feel more like a third wheel.
And then there’s the baby growing inside me.
Taking a deep breath, I lay back on my bed and stare at the ceiling. As I place a hand on my flat stomach, I try to imagine what it will be like when it starts to grow. This weird sensation takes over and I realize in that moment, my body is no longer just mine… I’m sharing it now with a small roommate.
And we need our own space.
Chapter 15
Ross
“You were on fire today, Davies! Those seven innings you pitched were damn near perfect. Keep up the great work.” Our skipper, Buddy Malone, is typically a man of few words unless he’s really fired up and after winning our season opener today, he’s very fired up.
“Thanks, Skip,” I reply as he pats me on the back and makes his way to the rest of the team.
It’s another Reveler’s tradition to celebrate a win with beignets and beers and once we’ve all had our fill, things will really start to liven up around here. As much as I love celebrating with my team, I’m ready to get out of here and hopefully, catch Casey before she leaves.
When I see Bo duck out, I think about following him, but just as quickly as he left, he’s back.
“Hey, man,” he calls, when he sees me looking. “Your parents are waiting for you.”
Oh, right.
Not that I forgot they were here, but I can’t get Casey out of my damn brain. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if she was also out there, but then he answers my question for me.
“They said Charlotte and Casey were out there, but they left. I guess Casey isn’t feeling well.”
My heart sinks, not just because I missed my chance to see her, but also because she’s sick. That’s like twice in the last month she’s not felt well. “Is everything okay?” I ask, feeling the worry set in, but trying to keep it at bay. “I mean, nothing serious?”
Bo shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. It was just something she ate…”
“Good,” I say, letting out a breath. “I mean, I’m glad it’s nothing serious.” I don’t want her to be sick at all, but as long as it’s something that will pass, it makes me feel better.
“I guess we’re having a get-together at our house tomorrow night after the game,” he continues. “Charlotte just texted me and said she was talking to your mom and dad and they wanted to have dinner. I guess I’m supposed to invite Mack and a few others.”
Dinner at Charlotte and Bo’s means Casey will also be there.
“Sounds great,” I tell him, giving him a hearty pat on the back. “Tell her we’ll be there and to let us know what we can bring.”
After I finish up in the clubhouse, imbibing in a beer and a couple of beignets, I excuse myself and find my parents still waiting in the corridor that leads to the player parking lot.
“Sorry guys,” I tell them, shouldering my bag and using a card to open the gate. “You know how it is at home games. I wouldn’t have cared if you took a car back to the house.”
“Nonsense,” my mom says, patting my arm. “We had a lovely chat with Charlotte and Casey and saw a few of the other players’ significant others. You know how it is, the first game always feels like a family reunion of sorts.”
I chuckle, holding a door open for my mom. “I guess it is, huh?”
“Great game tonight, Son,” my dad says as we walk toward my Rover. “How’s the shoulder?”
“Feels good,” I tell him, giving it a roll. “The whole game felt good.”
Relief was definitely a predominant feeling tonight. After the way last season ended, I wasn’t sure how I’d deliver, but finishing seven innings and only giving up one run was a solid start to the season.
When we pull up to the house, my mind immediately turns back to Casey, wondering how she’s feeling and thinking of ways I could see her. With my parents at the house and her living with Charlotte and Bo, it makes it difficult.
Of course, my parents will be gone in two days, but then I’ll be prepping to leave for almost two weeks. So, it doesn’t leave much time for us to talk and have some privacy.
Have I mentioned how badly I want her back in my bed?
Before I’m able to fall asleep, I crack open my laptop and send Casey an email.
Subject: How are you feeling?
I know it’s late, but I couldn’t go to sleep without checking on you.
Hope it’s nothing serious and you’re already feeling better.
Also, I’d like for us to have a chance to talk soon, maybe tomorrow night at dinner?
Ross
I’d like to say so much more, but I’m trying to play it cool. If she’s feeling skittish about us, I don’t want to completely scare her off. But the truth is I miss her more now that I’m back in New Orleans than I did while I was gone.
When I wake the next morning at oh-dark-thirty, I groan a little at the soreness from yesterday’s game. Thankfully, I won’t be pitching again until our away series, but that doesn’t excuse me from my obligations.
On my off days, I’m basically a cheerleader. However, I’ll still throw some pitches and play catch with Mack. Unlike the off-s
eason when I train hard, once the season starts I focus on maintaining the growth I made from October to February.
This morning, I also have two interviews. Casey scheduled them for me and even though I’m up a few hours earlier than I’d like to be on an off day, I appreciate her squeezing both interviews into one day. I’d much rather get them over with before we leave for Colorado.
She’s so smart and efficient.
And sweet.
And sexy.
Forcing myself out of bed, I head to the shower and jack off to visions of Casey naked.
On the stairs.
Up against the wall in the hallway.
In my bed.
God, what I wouldn’t give for a repeat of our night together.
Once I’ve relieved a little of the tension—cleaned up, dried off, and dressed—I head downstairs.
“Good morning,” my mom greets from the breakfast nook. “Can I make you some breakfast before you leave?”
“Just a smoothie for me this morning.”
“Coffee?” she asks, getting up from her spot and walking around to the coffee pot.
“Please,” I say, pulling the prepared smoothie ingredients out of the freezer and dumping them into the blender with a little milk.
“Charlotte told me not to bring anything tonight, but I was thinking about picking up a couple of bottles of wine and one of those delicious bread puddings from The Crescent Moon.”
“Sounds great,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head. “We’ll drive over together. Since it’s an off day and I’m doing these interviews this morning, I should be able to come straight home after the game.”
Putting a lid on my smoothie, I turn and collect my to-go coffee and give her one more kiss on her cheek. “Love you,” I tell her as I walk out the side door.
“Hope your interviews go well,” she calls back, waving from the door.
Having her and my dad here is nice. One thing I learned about myself during the divorce is I don’t particularly enjoy being alone. My therapist said it’s okay to not like being alone, as long as you can be alone.
I can be, but I prefer company. And as much as I enjoy my parents’ company, I’d really love to have Casey’s.
Half an hour later when I take a seat across from a reporter from a local television station, I feel my pulse begin to race. It’s been a while since I’ve sat down for a formal interview. Back when I was married to Felicia, I’d do them fairly regularly, even when I didn’t want to. She thought they were good for my image, but in reality, it was about her image.
How could I have missed that?
In hindsight, the signs were there. Over the past few years, she started making everything about her—her charities, her speaking engagements, her agenda.
“Tell us about the off-season,” the woman sitting across the table says, holding a small microphone in my direction. “How did you spend it? Training with your team? Coaches? What was your focus?”
The fact that she jumped immediately into my professional life and didn’t start with questions about my failed marriage earns her bonus points in my book.
Clearing my throat, I scratch the back of my head and nod. “Whew, I thought this interview was going to go a lot different.”
“Don’t worry,” she says with a small smile. “Your PA already laid the ground rules about what could and couldn’t be asked. We’ll be sticking strictly to baseball.”
God, I could kiss Casey right now.
And I’m definitely offering her a full-time position. I’ve already thought about ways to sweeten the deal and make it an offer she can’t refuse.
After the interviews are over, I change into warm-up gear and head out to the field to throw some balls and spend some time with my team.
I start with knuckleballs, since that’s what I’ve been working on lately, and then switch it up to some fastballs, which are my bread and butter.
Once I’ve worked through all my pitches, I jog over to the outfield and play catch with a few guys. The stands start to fill and I can’t help looking up to where Casey usually sits.
She’s not there yet, but I’m sure she will be. She and Charlotte rarely miss a home game.
At last night’s game, I spotted her once and then had to block her out. Since I was on the mound, I needed all of my concentration focused on the game, but tonight is a different story.
“You seemed distracted tonight,” Mack says as we’re standing in Charlotte’s backyard… well, Charlotte and Bo’s backyard, I guess… and Casey’s, because she lives here too. But maybe not for long, at least not if I have my way about it.
I take a sip of my beer and try to play off his question. Shit yeah, I was distracted. My thoughts were on Casey the entire night, but I can’t tell him that. “No, I was just zoned into the game.”
“Really?” Mack says, leveling me with a stare. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”
Letting out a laugh, I act offended. “What?”
He shakes his head, taking a drink of his beer and glancing around the yard at everyone visiting in small groups. My parents are talking to Charlotte, while Bo is over at their outdoor bar pouring drinks for Phil and Louis...
And Casey just walked out of the house with a tray of appetizers, looking like the whole damn meal.
Mack clears his throat and I look over at him. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says, taking another drink of his beer with his eyes glued on Casey. “Except for the fact Charlotte’s sister is smoking hot.”
In a matter of a millisecond, my body, mind, and soul collide in a response to Mack’s observation and I have to remind myself I can’t react how I want to—with fists and fury.
“Maybe I’ll ask her out,” he mutters, still checking out Casey… my Casey.
God, what is wrong with me?
I haven’t felt this possessive over a human being in… well, forever. I want to pound my chest and yell it from the rooftops—she’s mine.
Don’t look at her like that and don’t even fucking think about touching her.
“She’s off-limits,” I grit out, swallowing down the rage and sheer jealousy over the mere thought of someone else being with her.
“Says who?” Mack asks with an incredulous look. “Last time I checked she’s an adult and this is the fucking twenty-first century where women make decisions for themselves.”
Says me, motherfucker.
“It’s just that she’s basically Bo’s little sister, too,” I tell him, sounding much calmer than I feel. Maybe this little rant is more for me than Mack, but I’ll be damned if he gets to talk to her and I don’t. And I’ll really be damned if he gets to ask her out.
Over my dead fucking body.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Mack like a brother, but I don’t care. There’s no bro code when it comes to Casey Carradine. My eyes are trained on her, watching her every move.
The way she walks.
The way she laughs.
The way her jeans hug her ass should be a sin.
She’s a fucking wet dream—a vixen in denim.
“Well,” Mack says, breaking me from my Casey-induced trance. “I guess if I really wanted to ask her out, I’d just be upfront about it and let Bo know what’s up, but I still don’t see what the big deal is.”
When I look back over at him, he’s no longer checking her out… he’s checking me out, waiting for my reaction. And I realize, he’s been bating me this whole time.
“Cut the shit, Davies,” he says, lowering his voice so it’s just a conversation between the two of us. “I see the way you look at her. And I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
My entire body feels like it’s been lit on fire. If Mack has seen the way we look at each other, who else has seen it?
“If I were you, I’d just walk over and talk to her… you know, like the friends you claim to be.”
I’d like to punch him right now. But we’re in mixed company and my parents are here, so I’ll be an adult. �
�If I were you, I’d mind my own fucking business.”
As I walk away, the only response I get from Mack is a hearty laugh.
My mission to talk to Casey is thwarted by Phil, who wants to shoot the shit about the game today. I appease him for a moment and then excuse myself under the ruse of needing a refill.
When I slip through the backdoor of the house, I see her standing in the kitchen alone.
“Hey.”
She seems to startle and then she slowly turns to face me. The look on her face is not one I was expecting. She looks… scared, caged, nauseous… I don’t know what description fits best, but it’s certainly not desire or hope or longing, which are all the things I’ve been feeling when I think of her.
“Are you okay?” I ask, wondering if she’s still sick. She never responded to the email I sent last night. I made sure to check about a dozen times throughout the day. I thought maybe she was just waiting to speak to me in person. But, so far, our only exchange has been a polite greeting when I arrived with my parents. Since then, she’s busied herself with preparing food, serving food, and filling drinks.
“Fine,” she says, brushing her hair back off her face and tucking it behind her ear. “I’m good.”
There it is, the nervousness that I’ve never seen from her before now.
Typically, Casey is carefree and collected. She’s never riled up about much, even though I’ve heard she’s a spitfire in the stands, which is a hilarious contradiction to her normal demeanor and something I’d love to witness one day.
“You sure?” Taking another slow step toward her, like I’m approaching a frightened animal. “Because it seems like you’ve been avoiding me since I got back and I’m not sure what happened…”
Because things were going so great between us.
And you made it sound like you wanted to pick back up where we left off.
Casey lets out a sigh, her shoulders falling. “I’m sorry,” she says, her head falling into her hands. “It’s not you.”
“Oh, whoa,” I tell her, stepping even closer and forcing her to look up at me. “If you’re getting ready to give me the it’s-not-you-it’s-me line, stop right there.”