Baller (Heritage Bay Series Book 5)

by M. A. Foster

  My lips pull up on one side. “I’ve been called worse.”

  “You’re not a bad guy, you know?”

  I shrug. “Depends on who you ask. Friends?”

  Her eyes flick over my face as she considers me before a slow smile pulls at her lips. “I’d like that.”

  LIAM

  It’s well after 2:00 a.m. by the time Tyge and I get home. When I step inside, my gaze immediately goes to the glass wall that stretches across the width of the house. The moon is full and bright. Its light dances over the dark, choppy water of the Pacific Ocean, glimmering like a sea of diamonds.

  “Bro, move. I gotta piss.” Tyge brushes past me and races up the stairs.

  Dropping my bag at the foot of the stairs, I make my way to the kitchen. The three pendant lights hanging over the island are dimmed. It’s sort of an unwritten house rule of mine. When I was a kid, my mother always left the lights dimmed in the kitchen. It was the same when I lived in the pool house. I never asked her why she did it, but it’s something that stuck with me. It reminds me of home.

  Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I make my way out to the deck. I don’t drink much during the season, and it’s a personal rule of mine to never have more than two drinks the night before an early game. Luckily, tomorrow’s game is at night, so at least I won’t feel like shit.

  Propping my forearms on the deck railing, beer in hand, I breathe in the salty air as the sound of waves crashing against the shore brings an instant calm over me. It’s been a long time since I’ve stopped to appreciate moments like this.

  The door behind me slides open, and a beat later, Tyge is standing at my side.

  “Figured you were headed to bed,” I say before returning my gaze to the water.

  “Nah,” he replies as he leans against the railing beside me. “You were quiet on the plane. You good?”

  “Yeah.” I look over at him and notice he’s eyeing the beer in my hand. “It was an interesting trip,” I explain.

  He nods in understanding, giving a noncommittal “Hmm,” which is guy code for “You don’t have to talk about it.”

  On the flight home, I thought a lot about these past five years and how I’ve just been going through the motions. Waking up every day wondering if today will be different from the day before. Will I feel different? Will I feel lighter? Will this fucking ache in my chest ever go away? For the last five years, I’ve been drowning myself in my failures when I should be swimming in my success.

  For the most part, life has been pretty good to me. At twenty-two, I made my debut in the majors as LA Heat’s starting shortstop and was named Rookie of the Year.

  Since then, I’ve helped take the Heat to the World Series twice. I’ve landed several product endorsement deals, and three years in a row, I was featured in Sports Illustrated’s “Top 30 Under 30” most eligible bachelors.

  I’m living my dream. I’ve experienced love. I have an incredible family and some pretty great friends.

  And, of course, with the good comes the bad. I’ve learned over the years that you can’t take life for granted because it can change in an instant. Good people die, relationships fail, and hearts get broken. I’ve suffered loss and heartbreak and made more mistakes than I can count. Instead of moving on from my mistakes, I’ve allowed the guilt to weigh me down.

  My gaze moves to the empty house on my left, and a pang of sadness spreads across my chest as I remember all the good times spent there.

  Within a span of two years, everything changed. Cam moved. Marcus died. And my sister moved back to Heritage Bay, taking away the one person who could always put a smile on my face, even on my shittiest days.

  This place no longer feels like home.

  I miss my best friend.

  I miss Marcus.

  I miss my sister.

  I miss my favorite girl.

  I miss Heritage Bay.

  And I really fucking miss Vanessa.

  “We didn’t get to talk much at the wedding,” Doc says, stabbing into her chicken Caesar salad.

  The first time I laid eyes on Dr. Jasmine Ramos—Doc, as I call her—I was smitten. She looks like an exotic goddess in her late thirties, tall and thin with raven-colored hair and the most fascinating violet eyes.

  Marcus brought Doc into our lives after he’d learned his cancer was terminal. After he passed, Doc stuck around to help Jay work through her grief.

  Over the past year or so, she and I have become really good friends. She’s been my plus one to several red carpet events, and occasionally, between our busy schedules, we meet for lunch or dinner to catch up. We slept together once, last year after a charity dinner to honor Marcus’s Mayhem Foundation. But since then our relationship has been strictly platonic. Doc is now engaged to a die-hard LA Heat and Liam Mackenzie fan. The irony.

  I shrug. “I was hanging out with the family.”

  “I’m impressed by your sister’s ability to throw together a wedding that big and that beautiful in just a month. I’m thinking of asking her to plan my wedding.” She laughs.

  “My mother has a lot of connections. Zach’s mom and grandma helped, too.”

  She nods. “Well, I was impressed. And Jayla looked absolutely stunning. She and Zach are gonna make beautiful babies one day.”

  I screw my face up in disgust. “Doc,” I warn.

  Laughing, she waves me off. “I’m just messing with you, Liam. So what’s up? I feel like we haven’t talked in years.”

  “A lot, actually. I saw Vanessa.”

  She arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow. Setting her fork down, she picks up the napkin in her lap and dabs the corners of her mouth. “When?”

  “I saw her the night of the rehearsal dinner. Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I called her and cried to her voice mail. She texted me the next morning and asked me to meet her.”

  She tilts her head with a sympathetic expression. Doc knows all about the women in my life: Vanessa, Milana, Evangeline, Mia, my sister, and even my mother. She’s the only one who truly knows what’s going on inside my head. My thoughts, opinions, hopes, dreams, and even my biggest fears.

  Reaching across the table, she places her delicate hand over mine. “Are you okay?”

  I nod once. “Yeah. We met for coffee.”

  “Since when do you drink coffee?” she asks with a grin.

  I shoot Doc a pointed look. “I wasn’t there for coffee.”

  “I know.” She nods, leaning forward in her seat. Elbows propped on the edge of the table, she laces her fingers together and tucks them under her chin. “So what did she say?”

  “She’s engaged,” I tell her.

  Doc stiffens, and the corners of her mouth dip in a frown. “Is that why she asked you to meet her?”

  “No.” I lean back in my chair. “She wanted to tell me in person that she forgives me so we can both have closure.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “Yes and no.” I run a hand over my hair. “Yes, I wanted her forgiveness. No, I don’t want closure. I want her to stop being so fucking stubborn, admit she still loves me, ditch the fiancé, and come back to me.” I smirk.

  Her shoulders shake with silent laughter. “I don’t know what to do with you.” She catches her breath. “What about the pretty girl I saw you with at the wedding? Mia, right?”

  “Yeah.” I rub a hand over the scruff on my jaw. “Mia and I are just friends.”

  I’ve thought a lot about my conversation with Jay and her take on soul mates. I love that she’s so in love with love. I’d been that way, too, once.

  But could she be right?

  “Do you believe in soul mates, Doc?”

  She tilts her head, considering my question. “I believe in true love. Why do you ask?”

  “Jay told me that Zach is her soul mate.”

  “If there’s really such a thing as soul mates, then yes, Jayla and Zach are definitely soul mates.” She smiles.

  Anyone with eyes knows that.

>   “Is it possible that Vanessa could be mine?”

  She shakes her head, and my heart dips. “I can’t answer that. What I can do is offer you some generic advice. Live your life, Liam. Stop living in the past. Stop punishing yourself. If it’s meant to be, it will be.”

  Pretty sure she just quoted a fucking country song.

  JULY

  VANESSA

  “Come on, LJ. It’s time to go,” I call out to little Jake—I call him LJ so he knows I’m talking to him and not his father. Standing in the doorway of his bedroom, I continue, “Your mom is expecting us to be on time, so grab your stuff and let’s hit the road.”

  Luckily, they only live ten minutes away. Jake said he wanted to live close enough to his son in case there was an emergency.

  “Okay.” He shuts down his game and turns off his TV.

  Rarely do I ever get one-on-one time with LJ, but Jake had to go to the hospital early, so I offered to make him breakfast and then drop him off on my way to the hospital. Today is my day off, but I have an interview with HR to renew my contract.

  Last night we took LJ to his favorite pizza place. While we were waiting on our pizza, Jake told him that he was going to marry me. LJ said, “Cool,” then asked for money so he could go to the game room. Clearly he wasn’t bothered by the news. Or so I thought.

  It’s not until we’re settled in the car and I’m backing out of the driveway that he asks, “When you and my dad get married, will you be my mom, too?”

  I pump the brakes and drop my gaze to his. “I’ll be your stepmom.”

  He gives me a toothy grin. “So I’ll have two moms?”

  “Yes. Two moms means double the love.” I wink. I’m not experienced in the parent department, but LJ makes it easy. He’s a really good kid.

  I pull onto the main road and head toward Dr. Kay’s house. Jake’s ex-wife also works at the hospital. They’ve been divorced for four years, but they’re still friends. She and I aren’t besties, but we get along fairly well.

  “If you’re my mommy, too, will you sleep at my house with my mommy and daddy?”

  “What do you mean?” I glance at him in the rearview mirror.

  “Sometimes my daddy sleeps at my house with my mommy. They kiss a lot.” He scrunches his nose.

  All the air in my lungs leaves me in a whoosh. The heavy pounding of my pulse rages in my ears and my palms dampen as I grip the steering wheel a little too tight.

  “Oh?” My voice is shaky, but I keep my tone cheerful.

  Pulling into the driveway, I put my car in Park, leaving the engine running as I walk LJ to the door where Dr. Kay is waiting. She’s an attractive woman in her thirties, same age as Jake, with shoulder-length blonde hair cut into a blunt bob and blue eyes. She’s a couple inches shorter than me.

  “Hey, buddy,” she greets her son, ruffling his hair as he pushes past her and enters the house. “Hey, Vanessa. I hear congratulations are in order.” Her gaze drops to my ring.

  “Thanks.” I offer her a tight smile, thankful she can’t see the glare behind my sunglasses or notice how badly I’m shaking. I need to get out of here. “Bye, LJ,” I call out, catching the perplexed look on Dr. Kay’s face before turning and heading back to my car.

  I could’ve confronted her, but she’d most likely lie and tell me little Jake was just confused.

  I may not know much about kids, but I know they’re honest.

  “Well, don’t you look nice,” Nancy, my supervisor, says in way of greeting as I approach the nurses’ station. Her eyes flick over my face and she frowns. “You look pale. You feeling okay?”

  Although Nancy is my boss, she’s also my best friend in the workplace. I call her my work wife. She’s in her midthirties, divorced, and a huge baseball fan. Some of my colleagues are great, and some are nothing but drama, but Nancy is gold and the only one I trust.

  I press a shaky hand to my stomach. “I think it’s just nerves. I have that interview with HR at one.”

  Nancy waves a hand. “Honey, you have nothing to worry about. It’s routine.” She looks at her watch. “You’re early.”

  I hold up the brown paper bag. “I figured I’d bring my fiancé lunch. Is he around?”

  “You just missed him. He should be in his office.”

  “Thanks.” I adjust my purse on my shoulder. “I’ll see you later.” On shaky legs, I head toward Jake’s office. His door is slightly open, and just as I reach for the handle, a familiar female voice on the other side of the door says in a disapproving tone, “I can’t believe you’re engaged.”

  It’s Jenny, a nurse, and a good friend of Jake’s and his ex.

  “Why? You think she’s too pretty for me?” Jake teases, and I roll my eyes. God, he can be such a douche.

  Jenny snorts. “Quit being an ass.”

  “What?” Jake asks through a chuckle.

  “Don’t what me, Jake,” she hisses. “Kay is pissed. This game of push and pull has gone too far. Vanessa—”

  “Let it go, Jen,” he snaps. I raise my brows at the sharpness in tone. “Kay and I are done.”

  Shock slams into me like a freight train, and my entire body goes numb. A shaky breath pushes past my lips.

  No.

  How could he do this?

  “You said that last time,” Jenny argues.

  “Well, I mean it this time. I love Vanessa, and I’m going to marry her. This push-and-pull game, as you called it, is over.”

  “What are you doing?” the cheater asks from the doorway of our bedroom.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” I reply sarcastically without sparing him a look.

  As much as I wanted to scream, cry, and puke all at once earlier, I held it together, because public confrontation is not my thing. Especially at my place of work. After hearing Jake’s heartbreaking and utterly disgusting admission, I marched back to the nurses’ station in search of Nancy. I discreetly pulled her aside and asked if I could stay with her for a few days, promising to fill her in later. Then I went to my interview and politely withdrew my application to extend my contract. Afterward, I came home, took a long hot bath, and cried. The sting of betrayal was too much on my already fragile heart.

  By the time the water turned cold, so had I.

  “Why are you packing?” In my periphery, I see Jake move farther into the room, stopping beside the bed. “Vanessa, what are you doing?” His tone is laced with concern with an underlying hint of annoyance, which only pisses me off more.

  Ignoring his question, I raise my head and, with narrowed eyes, reply with one of my own. “How long have you been screwing your ex-wife behind my back?”

  He raises his brows and props both hands on his hips. “What are you talking about?”

  I decided not to tell him about the conversation I had with his son this morning. Little Jake had no idea he’d busted his parents. He was just being honest.

  I raise my brows and prop my hands on my hips, mimicking his stance. “I had my interview today.” I tilt my head. “I came by early to surprise my fiancé with lunch. I stopped by your office and heard you and Jenny talking. I heard everything, Jake.”

  His eyes flick over my face, taking in my red, splotchy cheeks and swollen eyes. “Vanessa—”

  “Answer the question, Jake. I deserve that much.”

  He runs a hand through his light brown hair. “Stop packing and let’s talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk!” I shout, balling my fists at my sides. “What I really want to do is punch you in your lying, cheating face.” Wow.

  “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me if you’ll stay.”

  Shaking my head, I huff out a humorless laugh. “Not gonna happen. Cheating is a deal breaker for me.”

  Spinning on my heels, I storm into the bathroom and begin tossing my toiletries into one of my oversized cosmetic bags. Jake’s reflection appears in the mirror. He leans against the doorway, silently watching me as I strip every bit of my existence from our bathroom, sans a fe
w stray hairs on the tile floor.

  “For what it’s worth, I told her it was over.”

  “Lucky me,” I mumble, eyeing him in the mirror. “When was the last time you slept with her?” Not that it matters, but color me curious.

  He chews on the inside of his lower lip. He does that when he’s stressed. “Two days before I proposed. I told her it couldn’t happen again. That I was going to ask you to marry me.”

  Ugh.

  “I thought she was dating Dr. Marx,” I say flippantly.

  He responds with a careless shrug. “I don’t know the status of their relationship. We don’t talk about it.”

  My lip curls up in disgust. “Of course not.” I spin around to face him. “I’ve been going over it in my head for the last couple of hours, wondering when you would have time to cheat. You were either at work or with me. And seriously,” I huff, “this isn’t some nighttime drama where you’re sticking it to her in the janitor’s closet. So when? Then I thought about all those weekends I went to visit my dad and you couldn’t come because you were on call. Or the times you claimed you were stopping by her place to say good night to little Jake.”

  I take a deep breath, attempting to control my emotions. He’s not getting any more of my tears. “And while you were over there, playing house like a doting husband and father, I was here thinking how lucky I was to finally have found a good man who I trust and who loves me. A man who loves his son so much that he stops over just to tuck him in for bed. I loved that the most about you,” I admit softly.

  Then I thought about all those times over the course of our relationship that she had the nerve to smile to my face and say, “I’m so glad Jake has you,” or “You’re perfect for Jake.”

  I pinch my lips together. “God, I am such an idiot.”

  Jake just stares at me, jaw clenched, nostrils flared. He’s got nothing to say because I’m right.

  “You’re both horrible human beings. You deserve each other.” Shoving past him, I head back into the bedroom and toss the toiletries bag into my suitcase.