All Wound Up

by Jaci Burton

  “Yeah. The worst thing is that I immediately backed away from Aubry. I deliberately avoided her. Deep inside, I knew it was the wrong choice, but I got scared.”

  “How do you know it’s the wrong thing?” his mother asked, her lips curving as if she already knew the answer.

  “Because I feel miserable. Every damn day I wake up feeling awful, and I go to bed feeling awful. I miss her. I miss talking to her and I miss seeing her. And even worse, she found out about her father’s threat. She came to my condo and read me the riot act. Then she dumped me.”

  “Ouch.” His mother sipped her coffee. “I don’t blame her for being angry with you, Tucker. We women don’t like it when men keep secrets.”

  “This is true,” his dad said.

  “You should have been honest with her from the beginning,” his mother said.

  Tucker grimaced. “That would have felt like running to Aubry to fix my issue with her dad. That didn’t feel right to me. I don’t know, none of this feels right.”

  “But is she worth losing your job over?” his dad asked. “Because if you continue this relationship with her, her father might make good on his promise.”

  “Yes. She is worth it.” That’s when he realized he should have told Aubry right from the beginning. He should have stood up to Clyde and told him he could do whatever he wanted to him, but that it wouldn’t matter.

  “I guess you’ve got your answer, then, Son,” his father said. “But you’ve got to be prepared to live with the consequences.”

  “Yeah, I know. I guess I just needed the time to think this through. Or maybe I never needed any time to think it through. Hell, I don’t know what I needed. I feel shitty now that I’ve let all this time go by. Aubry thinks I abandoned her, that I chose my career over her. She probably hates me.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” his mother said, laying her hand on his dad’s knee. “We women are very forgiving. We have to be, because you men are often idiots.”

  “Hey,” his dad said, frowning at her.

  She laughed, then rubbed her shoulder against his.

  He looked at his parents, at the obvious love they had for each other even after all these years. He knew they’d had their squabbles over the years, had seen them argue, then make up. It was true love between the two of them.

  That’s what he wanted. What he wanted to have forever.

  With Aubry.

  Now he just had to get back home and see her after his game tomorrow night.

  And make things right.

  THE LAST PERSON AUBRY EXPECTED TO SEE AT THE hospital during her shift was her mother. When Marie buzzed her and told her that her mother was in the waiting area, Aubry’s heart clenched. She quickly grabbed her phone, wondering if she’d missed an urgent call or text telling her something awful had happened.

  Nothing.

  She hurried out to the waiting room.

  “Mom, what’s up?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you at work. I know you’re busy.”

  “It’s actually a fairly light day today, so don’t worry. Is everything okay?”

  Her mother grasped her arm. “Everything’s fine. Do you have . . . a minute to get some coffee?”

  “Sure. Let me tell them I’m taking a break.”

  She dashed in to tell Marie she’d be off for a short while to take her lunch, then met her mom. They left the hospital and walked down the street to a deli. Aubry ordered a sandwich with iced tea, and her mother got a coffee. They grabbed a table in the corner.

  “How are you?” her mother asked. “I haven’t seen you since—”

  “The night I stormed out of the house? I’m sorry about that.”

  Her mom grasped her hand. “Do not be sorry about that. Your father was an ass. I’m still not speaking to him.”

  Her lips curved. She could imagine her mom giving her dad a really hard time. Her mother was sweet and warm and kind. And when she was angry—usually with her dad, the house could get very frosty.

  That, at least, made her happy.

  “I’m so sorry your father did that, sweetheart. He had no right to interfere in your life that way. I have had many conversations with him about this. Many. Conversations.”

  Aubry laughed. “I’m sure Dad has really enjoyed those conversations.”

  Her mother smiled over the rim of her coffee cup, then set the cup down. “He hasn’t enjoyed them at all. But you can rest assured that he will never, ever again bother you about your work, or your personal life. And he will not be trading Tucker.”

  Aubry shrugged. “That part doesn’t matter since it seems Tucker made his decision. He chose the Rivers.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means he stopped seeing me. Not that I blame him. Career is everything, and I’m sure Dad scared the hell out of him by threatening to ruin his career. I’m just so mad at Dad. Hell, I’m mad at both of them.”

  Her mother sighed. “This just makes me angry with your father all over again. Maybe we should have hit up a bar instead. I could use a cocktail.”

  Aubry laughed. “It’s not Dad’s fault that Tucker chose baseball over me. Obviously our relationship isn’t meant to be.”

  “Give the boy some time, Aubry. Your father can be more than a little intimidating. Heaven only knows what he said to Tucker. It might take him a while to come around. But based on what I saw of the two of you together, I don’t believe for one second that Tucker plans to walk away from you forever.”

  She wished she had as much confidence in Tucker as her mother did. Unfortunately, she had all the proof she needed. He hadn’t stood up to her father, and he’d deliberately backed away from her.

  It was over.

  She only wished she was over him. Unfortunately, her heart hurt, she was crushingly disappointed in him and she couldn’t sleep at night. She wanted to lay all the blame at Tucker’s feet, but she couldn’t.

  The worst part of it all was he’d never once talked to her about any of this. Other than the night she’d showed up at his place to vent her feelings, and that conversation had been decidedly one-sided. She’d walked out and they hadn’t really talked things through. So she had no closure.

  Not that it would help if she did. It was still going to hurt, but maybe they needed to have a sit-down, rational, two-sided conversation. An official end to their relationship.

  Then, maybe, she could start to heal.

  TUCKER SAT IN HIS LOCKER AT THE BALLPARK, THINKING more about Aubry than about pitching tonight.

  He’d spent as much time as he could with his parents, because he didn’t see them often enough. He left for the airport early this morning to catch his flight back to St. Louis, giving him plenty of time to make it to the ballpark for warm-ups.

  But before he went out there, he needed to make contact with Aubry. He sent a text message.

  I’d really like to see you. I’m pitching tonight. Can you come to the game?

  He figured she was probably at work, so he didn’t expect an answer.

  Except his phone buzzed.

  I don’t know.

  He stared at his phone for a while, at the answer she’d given him.

  Yeah, he deserved that. He deserved worse than that.

  He typed a response.

  Please.

  He waited, and she responded right away.

  I’ll think about it. Gotta get back to work now.

  It was the best he could hope for, but at least it wasn’t an outright no. And that gave him some hope, which was a lot more than he expected.

  He’d hang on to that and hope like hell she showed up for the game.

  If not, he’d go over to her place after the game tonight and beg her to take him back. On his knees, if necessary.

  After he told her he loved her.

  But for now, he needed to get his head—and his pitching arm—ready for tonight’s game. His curve still hadn’t been working like he wanted it to, and that needed to be his number one priority. He’d
been working on it with the pitching coach, and he was hoping to get the kinks out of whatever it was in his curve that had been kinked lately.

  It was bad enough he’d totally fucked up his personal life. He at least needed to get his professional one back on track.

  Grant had texted and told him that he and Katrina and the kids were coming to the game, so he’d at least have family in his corner tonight.

  And right now, that counted for something.

  AUBRY REFUSED TO LOOK AT THE CLOCK. THEY’D HAD several emergencies come in, she’d been running from room to room, and time had gotten away from her. She and Katie barely had time to exchange looks of utter agony as their hands were filled with broken bones, cuts and abrasions from a multi-vehicle accident.

  Fortunately, there were no fatalities. By the time they had everyone either discharged or admitted, she was exhausted. She grabbed something to drink and stepped into the break room, where a couple of the attendings and some of the residents had tonight’s baseball game on television.

  Tucker was pitching. It was the top of the fifth inning. She was still torn about going to the game.

  What was he going to say to her that hadn’t already been said?

  Or, rather, not said? He’d made his feelings and his choices abundantly clear to her. And despite the pain in her heart, deep down she understood.

  Career came first. It had to. He was building his career, and she had gotten in the way.

  Of course she first and foremost blamed her father for interfering in her life, but when push came to shove, the decision had been Tucker’s.

  But then again, she wanted closure, and maybe that’s what Tucker was looking to give her.

  The official breakup conversation.

  No. He wouldn’t do that at the stadium. He’d come to her house to break up with her. She might not understand a lot of things about him, but she knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t officially break up with her at the Rivers’ stadium.

  Which made her wonder why he wanted her to come to the game? What did he want to talk about that couldn’t wait?

  She tried to sit in one of the corner chairs just to catch a breath and hydrate, but the announcer talked about the pitches Tucker was throwing, how every one of his curveballs was hitting the mark. Part of her tuned it out, but another part of her glanced at the score and realized the Rivers were up by two runs.

  And they were in the top of the fifth inning, and the other team hadn’t had a hit yet.

  She stood, slowly making her way toward the television.

  “What do you think, Aubry?” David asked her. “Do you think it’s possible that Cassidy will throw a—”

  She stopped him before he could get the words out. “Oh, my God, David. Don’t say it. It’s bad luck.”

  “You don’t really believe in that, do you?” Dr. Chen asked.

  He’d barely acknowledged her outside of their interactions during the workday. And she’d certainly never stood side by side with him watching a baseball game.

  “In medicine? No. In baseball? Absolutely. So if you’d like Tucker to . . . you know, then no one say a word about it. You can think it and hope for it in your minds, but for God’s sake, don’t say it out loud.”

  And for the very first time in—ever—Dr. Chen smiled at her.

  She started toward the other room where the lockers were located, but stopped at the doorway. “I’m out for the night.”

  “Headed to the ballpark to catch the rest of the game?” one of the residents asked.

  She didn’t even try to hide it. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t want to miss this.”

  She and Tucker might be on the outs. They might even be over. But if there was even a chance he would . . . you know . . . there was no way she wouldn’t be there to support him.

  She hurriedly changed clothes and dashed to her car, grateful the hospital wasn’t too far from the stadium and that she had a pass for VIP parking. She showed her pass to the gate attendant, then went downstairs instead of up. There were always extra seats available where the staff and wives sat above the batter’s box. That’s where she wanted to sit tonight.

  She didn’t want to sit in the owner’s box. One, because her father was there. Two, because she wanted to sit with the crowd, to feel that anticipation, that level of excitement with everyone in the stadium, instead of being removed from it.

  She said a quick hello to everyone, then found herself a vacant seat in between Liz Riley and Shawnelle Coleman.

  “I thought you’d be in the owner’s box with my dad,” she said to Liz.

  “The action’s better down here. And . . . you know,” she said, motioning to the field with her head. “There’s some exciting action going on out there.”

  “Yes, I saw it from the lounge at the hospital. I got here as fast as I could.”

  “You’re here at the best time,” Shawnelle said. “It’s getting really good now. He’s given up a few walks so far tonight, but not . . . the other thing.”

  She’d missed an inning and the other team still hadn’t had a hit. She swallowed hard as she felt the anticipation and excitement of the crowd, but there was also a kind of revered hush, as if the crowd didn’t want to do anything to mess up Tucker’s concentration. Baseball fans knew what was happening—what could happen—but they also knew not to say the words out loud, not even to each other in the stands. No one wanted to jinx Tucker.

  Tucker took the mound at the top of the seventh and Aubry tried to gauge his mood as he warmed up, wondering if he was tense or if there was anything else on his mind. She recalled their text conversation before the game, actually pulled out her phone to look it over, hoping she hadn’t said anything to upset him.

  She could have been friendlier, but he’d caught her off guard. She hadn’t expected to hear from him and didn’t know what to make of his request to see her. She had hoped he’d had a change of heart and wanted to see her to tell her he loved her, but she refused to give in to that hope. But either way, she had to know.

  She’d brushed it to the back of her mind with everything going on at work, and then she’d stumbled upon the . . . thing happening here at the ballpark, and no matter what went on between the two of them, she had to be here to support him.

  She found herself holding her breath with every pitch and, along with the crowd, cheering wildly with every strike. When the first batter grounded out to first base, she stood and clapped. The second batter took two balls, then hit a pop fly to center field that was caught. Aubry had barely breathed as the ball sailed into the fielder’s glove for the out.

  Tucker threw two strikes in a row to the third batter, then three balls. The batter fouled off the next three pitches, battling the full count. When the batter hit a long ball to left field, Aubry stood, along with everyone else in the stadium. When the ball was caught by the fielder, the stadium erupted in wild cheers.

  It was still on, and the Rivers were going to bat next.

  “Oh, my God,” Liz whispered, then turned to her. “Do you think?”

  Aubry grinned. “I hope so. I really hope so.”

  “But you know we can’t hope too hard. There are still two innings left.”

  “I know,” Aubry said. “Anything can happen in two innings.”

  She’d seen it time and time again. A pitcher could take a . . . you know . . . into later innings, and all it took was one hit, and then it was over.

  But still, she hoped. For Tucker’s sake, she really hoped.

  Plus, he was throwing so well.

  She and Liz linked hands.

  She couldn’t imagine the pressure Tucker must be feeling right now, but she sent him every bit of mental good luck she could right now.

  She had a very good feeling about the . . . thing.

  This was Tucker’s night. She just knew it.

  TUCKER SLIPPED ON HIS JACKET AND SAT ALONE IN the corner of the dugout. No one spoke to him, and he knew why. Everyone knew why.

  He didn’t want t
o think about it. It was just another game, like any other game, and he intended to approach his pitches the same way he always did. Face each batter the same way as usual. Every inning was just an inning that he wanted to keep run free.

  And that was all he was gonna think about.

  Right now he concentrated on the Rivers batting. They had a man on first and third with one out in the bottom of the eighth inning. When Dedrick Coleman slammed a long ball that went over the left field fence, Tucker breathed a sigh of relief, then stood to clap with his teammates.

  They were up five to nothing. That was a great cushion for the team in case he gave up some runs.

  He had to focus only on that. The team. Winning the game.

  Nothing else mattered.

  When the Rivers finished the inning, he shrugged out of his jacket and took the mound for the top of the ninth, appreciating the roar of the home crowd. He drew in their energy, hoping like hell he could finish this game with a win for them.

  He refused to think about the other thing. That was a pipe dream, a rarity for a pitcher. All he wanted to do was finish the game. A shutout would be great. He’d aim for that.

  He threw his warm-up pitches, then waited for the first batter to come to the plate. Top of the order was up, so this wasn’t going to be easy.

  His arm still felt good, though. He was within his comfort zone as far as total pitch count.

  He was ready.

  He took the pitch call from Sanchez.

  A curve. His curve was on fire tonight—thank God—so he nodded, wound up and threw.

  A strike.

  His next two pitches were fastballs, and the batter bit on one that he grounded to the shortstop.

  One out, and the crowd went crazy.

  Two outs to go. Energy and nervousness sizzled down his spine. He pulled the energy forth and batted down the nervousness.

  Just another game, and a game he needed to finish.

  He walked around behind the mound, took the ball and rubbed it in his hands, focusing his concentration only on the next batter.