This addiction I'm saddled with is a lifelong curse. No amount of love I have for Eva in my heart will ever be able to take it away.
I'm a lost cause, and I hate myself for it. Because all I've ever wanted since I met her was to be the type of man she really needs.
I hear her walk into the room, probably to take my temperature again or put the blood pressure cuff on my arm. She's been more like my nurse since I woke up from my emergency detox than anything else, and it's not fair to her. She didn't sign up for this. She's not my sober companion anymore. I wanted her to be something infinitely more precious until she almost received the fatal overdose of heroin that was meant for me.
But she doesn't turn the light on. Instead, she shoves the covers aside and crawls into bed next to me. I don't move because she's not here for anything more. I'm on top of the comforter, and she's underneath it. There's a barrier separating us from doing something I'd later regret. Not that I don't want to be with her again. It's just that I feel so unworthy of even touching her right now.
She rolls over onto her side, and I'm still sprawled out on my stomach. We're facing each other, but we don't say anything. We just lie here together in the silence, her hair spread out across my pillow. My bandaged arm is between us, a reminder of the tragic turn of events of the last few days. We stare into each other's eyes until I see the worry lines around her mouth begin to relax.
"Will you go somewhere with me tomorrow?" she asks on the verge of sleep, her eyes half closed.
"Where?" I mumble.
"Somewhere that feels like home," she whispers, making it sound like a promise.
"Oh yeah? Where's that?" I respond, trying not to let it affect me, using my sarcasm to push her away.
Her eyes fully open at that, studying me intently. I think she's about to argue with me, but instead, all she says is, "Please."
I've put her through enough. I guess I can grant her one last request before I let her walk away from me for good.
"Okay," I comply, watching the briefest hint of a smile dance across her lips.
"Thank you," she says, and I can feel the full expanse of her big, generous heart in those two small words.
I close my eyes, pretending to fall asleep, unable to bear how she's looking at me like I just made her the happiest person in the world.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Drake
Step Nine
Make amends.
"Kings Stadium?" I bristle at her the next day. "This is where you're taking me?"
"If you're serious about quitting the team, it'll be cathartic for you to clean out your locker. Don't you think?" She opens the car door before Noah can get out and help her, leaving me alone to ponder that thought for a minute.
I don't want to go in there, not back to my own personal house of horrors.
When I remain with my butt firmly settled inside the car, Noah peeks his head in at me. "Hey, are you coming, dude, or not?"
I clench my jaw, not in the mood to be rushed but knowing I really can't hide in here forever. This is what Eva wants me to do, so like it or not, I'm damn well going to do it. I owe it to her. She's done a lot of things for me I'm sure she didn't enjoy doing, especially cleaning up after me when I was as sick as a dog.
I exit the car, the brightness of the sun causing my eyes to water. I've been inside for days, and I feel like a mole crawling out of my hole. What used to make up my normal routine now seems strange and surreal.
Eva's nowhere in sight. I guess she didn't wait around, expecting me to meet her in there. I'm just glad today's an off day so none of the other guys will be around. I can pack my shit up and then take off.
I stride down the familiar corridors lined with pictures of the Kings' past achievements, some of them I was a part of, but it feels like another lifetime ago. It's eerily quiet down here. There's usually always something going on, even when there's no game scheduled—a K-TV crew filming a promo spot or a group of kids from some charity receiving a behind-the-scenes tour. My skin prickles because my instincts are screaming at me that something's off.
I round the bend and come to the entrance of the clubhouse. The doors are closed, and there's no trace of the staffers who ready our pinstriped uniforms and line our equipment up. I pause with my hand on the mirrored glass. I have the distinct impression that I'm being watched. I can't see in, but anyone in there can see out—and I don't like it.
"Eva?" I call out, opening the door, only to be greeted by the anxious gaze of every single one of my teammates, who are sitting in a semicircle in front of their lockers.
"What the fuck?" I mutter under my breath, wishing I'd stayed in the car when I had the chance.
Chase approaches me from where he's standing in front of the carpeted Kings logo in the center of the room. The guys consider it bad luck to place your feet directly on it, and it looks like Chase still takes these crazy superstitions seriously. The night of the World Series game when he got hurt, there were so many people back here that he admitted afterward that he'd accidentally stepped on it before heading onto the field. It's funny, because whether he realizes it or not, I'm already jinxed. This is my last day as an active player, the end of my career, and there's no way I'm sitting through some last-minute retirement party he forced everyone to attend.
"I just want to grab my stuff and then I'll be off," I say gruffly, pushing my way past Chase and heading toward my locker.
But he's not having any of it. He steps in front of me, blocking my path. "Why don't you sit down and listen to what we have to say first?"
"And what if I don't want to?" I glare at him, feeling cornered.
"Then you'll be leaving without your favorite blue Sharpie." He pulls it out of his back pocket, brandishing in front of me.
He has no clue the sentimentality that marker holds for me. There's no way I'm parting with it. Not if I'm going to have to say goodbye to Eva when this is all over. I need to hold on to some part of her, and nothing means more to me than the emblem of our unexpected beginnings.
"Get talking," I mutter.
Chase smiles, and I want to knock the shit-eating grin off his face. I clench my fists, itching to fight as I stare all of my former brawling partners down, from Brooks Davison to Jilly Gillette. I'm not one to be on the defensive. I'm always on the attack, taking a cheap shot whenever possible. I don't know what they expect to say to me. It's not like anything they want to get off their chests will do any good now.
"We're staging an intervention of sorts." Chase kicks things off, still the de facto leader of the team, even in retirement.
"Well, you're a little late for that, considering I almost OD'ed two days ago," I growl back at him. "Shot up against my will…like it even matters."
A few of them drop their heads at that, but I don't want their sympathy, since I never had their respect.
"Eva told me what happened, and I told the boys." Chase gestures at our captive audience. "And I speak for all of us when I say that nobody wants you to quit the team. We're here to offer you our unconditional support because we're determined to help you get back on your feet again."
"Well, that's nice, but you don't get to make that decision for me," I snap, balking at how he always has to play the hero. "When I was serving my suspension, not a single one of you reached out to see how I was doing. So, why is it any different now that everybody knows I'm a junkie as well as a cheat?"
"Because you're not the only one." Sanders steps forward, inserting himself between me and Chase. He stands shoulder to shoulder with me before turning to address the room. "I was on HGH for months before Drake got caught. That makes me a cheater too."
A startled murmur erupts, trickling from guy to guy.
Chase whistles sharply, and they stop, looking at us in confusion.
"Yeah, but I was the one who supplied him," I say, interrupting Sanders's good deed by slamming it with bad news of my own. "I've been hooking up a lot of you for years."
Again, they all start t
alking at once, getting agitated, until I shout over them.
"But I'm not about to name any names. Not when I already have one foot out the door. Deal with your guilty consciences on your own damn time."
I stare hard at Jackson and Colt, and they share an uneasy glance with each other before dropping their eyes to the floor.
But Sanders isn't done yet. He looks right at me, his eyes clear and focused. "I'm going to turn myself in. I'm not deserving of any rookie-of-the-year considerations. Not when PED use is costing you your place in the game."
I roll my eyes. "How very noble of you, kid."
"You don't have to be Mr. Tough Guy anymore, Drake." Now, it's Jake Woodbury who feels the need to console me. "I already told the guys about my mission trip in high school and how hard you had it growing up after Eva filled in all the gaps. What your mother put you through? No child should ever have to go through something like that. I misjudged you, man, and I'm sorry. I didn't give you much of a chance. I was wrong to let you push me away when I should've tried to get to know you better."
I applaud boisterously, cutting him right down. "I'm touched, Woodchucker. That's a speech worthy of the Nobel Peace Prize."
"Knock it off, Schultz," Jilly says from his corner locker. "Why don't you get your head out of your ass and listen to what they're saying?"
I smirk at him, appreciative that he's not handling me with kid gloves like everyone else is. But then again, he rides a Harley, so of course Jilly's a badass. That's why we're always at each other's throats. We're too much alike. We're not little pussies like Jake and Sanders.
"Drake, I grew up without a mother too, you know…"
I groan when even Jilly starts getting sentimental with me.
"And my old man was a rotten son of a bitch. I'm well aware of what it's like to grow up without a real family. I know how it can mess with a person, and what your mother did to you is unacceptable by any standard. You got through life by swinging your fists, and so did I, only I had a support system in place thanks to my next-door neighbor, Rick, and his family. You didn't have any of that. And then for Terry to take advantage of you on top of it all? Jesus, it's incredible you got as far as you did without cracking up sooner."
"Eva told you about Terry?" I receive plenty of accompanying nods in return, and I have every intention of stomping toward Jilly to shut him up until Chase holds me back.
"We know everything, man. So just chill," he advises me as my head begins to spin.
I feel dizzy. How could Eva have betrayed me like this? She told them all about me, and now, she's not even here to back it up. She left me to face them alone. She knew that this stuff was private, things I didn't want anyone to know. I feel stripped to the bone, my every secret exposed, thrown into my own personal Judgment Day. My legs give out, and I drop to my knees.
Chase bends down to look me in the eye, and all the other guys get to their feet and stand around us. I'm aware of their presence, and the walls stop closing in on me. Instead, for some strange reason, I feel embraced by their solidarity.
"This is a closed-door meeting," Chase says loud enough for everyone to hear. "What's said in here today remains between us. It all stays under wraps, from Sanders's confession to Drake's past and everything in between. We're not throwing anyone to the wolves. Agreed?"
"Agreed," they reply, their deep voices responding as one.
"We already talked about this before you got here, Schultz, but we made a pact to keep this clubhouse drug-free. PED use will no longer be tolerated. No more turning a blind eye and depending on some quick fix to get us through our slumps and setbacks and injuries. Instead, we're going to be there for each other…like we should've been for you." Chase pauses, an undeniable catch in his voice.
He turns his head, regaining his composure while zeroing in on Jackson and Colt. "While some of us feel they may still need PEDs to remain competitive, we've all agreed to work together on this."
With that, Chase gets to his feet and holds his hand out. The rest of the guys follow suit, placing a hand on the pile until they're all resting atop my head.
"We're a brotherhood on this team, and we're not going to hang you out to dry," Chase says above me. "That's why we're going to get Diane to make you the designated hitter. This way, you can extend your career and Sanders can stay at third." He looks down at me, giving me that cocky smirk I've always known him for. "You were never known for your glove anyway."
They remove their hands and step away, giving me room to get up.
I stand, muttering, "You'd really do that for me?"
"I used to let you hog the bathroom in my penthouse, didn't I?" Chase teases me, and all the guys start to laugh. "Jesus, I know a lot more women who spend less time getting ready in the morning than you do. We might as well have you back here using up all the hot water in the shower room."
I give him a look to shut up, not ready to be the punch line of anyone's joke just yet.
"Hey, don't direct that anger at me," he urges, seeing my face. "Save it for Terry. So far this year, we're the best team in the American League and his San Diego squad is sitting atop the leaderboard over in the National League. We're on pace for one heck of a World Series battle. So what do you say about biding our time and getting back at the motherfucker, taking him down when it'll hurt the most?"
"Amen," Jake says as the guys uproariously voice their agreement.
"You're not leaving the Kings, all right?" Chase claps me on the back. "We need you, man. We can't get there without your bat in the lineup."
I glance around at my teammates, the guys I tormented for years with fistfights and wisecracks, and here they are, welcoming me home—all thanks to Eva. She did what I couldn't do, telling them about my struggles. She was right. They needed to know. I was keeping them at arm's length so I wouldn't appear weak. Instead, I brought myself to my knees by refusing to let them see me for who I really am, flaws and all. And lo and behold, they accepted me for me, no questions asked.
They even gave up their day off to show me how much they care.
So I guess now's the perfect time to practice what's always been so hard for me to say.
I clear my throat and go down the line, looking at each one of them in turn. I save Chase for last, keeping my eyes trained on him as I finally give the heartfelt apology he's been waiting a long time to hear.
"I'm sorry."
Jake starts clapping. Then Sanders does too, and before I know it, Jilly's stomping his feet, getting everyone riled up. But Chase does them one better, pulling me in for a one-armed hug and thumping me on the shoulder.
"It's all good, man. It's all good," he says, tucking the blue Sharpie into my front pocket. "It doesn't have to be over." He gives me a look, unaware of the significance behind the marker but knowing me all the same. Lowering his voice, he says to me as the others start talking amongst themselves, "Eva arranged all this today."
I glance up at him in surprise.
"She really loves you, man. Don't let her slip through your fingers. Go after what you want. You're not your past any more than I'm mine. You're going to mess up. That's just part of it. But she'll be there to catch you when you fall. Hell, she already has."
"I don't even know where she is," I mumble.
"She's upstairs in Diane's office, waiting to tell you some more good news." He smiles at me, and it feels like I have my old friend back, like he's really forgiven me this time for the mistakes I made. "The right woman can make all the difference in the world. I'm just glad you finally found her." He gives my shoulder a parting squeeze and points me toward the door.
The guys start ribbing me as soon as they see that I'm leaving.
"Stay away from those Jersey girls, asswipe," Jilly taunts me affectionately. "Or you might end up marrying one of them, and we all know how much you hate even thinking about marriage."
I turn around and stick my two middle fingers up at him.
The guys crack up at that as I push my way out the door.
Oh yeah, it feels good to be back.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Drake
"Did I tell you how ecstatic I am to have you back in my bed?" I kiss the side of her mouth, teasing her.
She sighs against my lips. "I wasn't trying to punish you. I just wanted you to get through everything first without anything else getting in the way. But you did it. You made it through. You're back playing again." She smiles at me. "That's why I'm here."
"And I'm really happy that you're on this road trip with me." I nestle my lips against Eva's neck, lying next to her in my hotel room.
"That's what happens when the owner grants you special privileges." She sighs when my newly shaven face glides over her skin. "I can't thank Diane enough for allowing me to travel with the team."
"You are my sober companion, after all." I trace a line of kisses down her collarbone.
"Not anymore," she reminds me. "I'm the team's drug-intervention counselor, something to put on the paperwork so I have an official title for following you around the country."
"Like you need one," I murmur, dropping my head and running my tongue over the top of her breast.
She shivers against me, and I know I found the sweet spot, but I intend on drawing this out.
I lift my head. "But if you're so concerned about titles, how about I give you a new one?"
Her eyes come alive, and she looks so goddamned beautiful staring down at me. Her hair is loose and tumbling over her shoulders. It's draped over her other nipple, hiding it from view, so I brush it aside so I can give equal attention to her other breast. She's breathing heavily, and her skin is flushed with warmth and desire. I could stay in this bed all morning long and still not get enough of her.
She's my new addiction, the one I'll never be able to control. I should have stayed away from her. I should have let her go. But I couldn't, not when she's refused to leave my side. We've been on this road trip together for two weeks now, ever since I started playing again, and the crowds have been merciless on me, booing my every at-bat. They don't know the whole story, but my teammates do, and that's all that matters. Without their support, there's no way I'd be able to do this.
Inside Game Page 24