Travis

by Leigh Duncan

  Okay, she admitted. Maybe it had been a little more than a kiss. Her breath came in little sips and her insides quivered. Thinking of what she’d like to do next and where they were expected to be, she groaned.

  “We should wait,” Travis said as if he’d read her mind. “The team and their parents are already at the party. We can’t skip it.”

  “Tonight Josh is having a sleepover,” she said, nearly regretting her promise to let him invite a friend to spend the night. “Tomorrow we’ll have a long day at Twister Stadium.”

  “But after that…” Travis leaned in for another kiss.

  When she could speak again, she agreed. “Yeah, after that.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Courtney shimmied into a pair of cargo shorts. Smoothing fabric that had softened after a season of twice-weekly washings, she tugged a faded Sluggers T-shirt over her head. She scrutinized her image in the mirror. Highlights she’d easily afforded as the wife of a superstar had long since faded. Though her finger and toenails glistened, the pink polish came from a bottle she’d picked up at the grocery store. These days she toned her figure at Coffee on Brevard rather than an upscale spa. Even her face had changed over the past year. Gone was the slightly bemused expression she’d perfected as the de facto leader of the Twisters Wives’ Club. In its place she wore a genuine smile.

  Would anyone at today’s game recognize her?

  Doubtful. But to be sure, she propped oversize sunglasses atop her cap and slipped her feet into flip-flops the wife of Ryan Smith wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing. Courtney Smith, owner of a café in downtown Cocoa and girlfriend of Travis Oak, didn’t have such pretentions…and she’d never been happier.

  Tonight, after they returned from Twister Stadium, she and Travis would go out on their first real date. The thought sent a thrill of anticipation through her. She could hardly wait to spend the night in his arms.

  Her pulse thrumming, she called, “Josh, are you ready?”

  Heavy footsteps trudged down the hall. His shoulders rounded, her son stepped into the room still dressed in his pajamas.

  “Mom, my stomach doesn’t feel so good.”

  She eyed the boy who’d had no trouble putting away three pancakes and an extra helping of bacon less than an hour earlier. He didn’t look sick. Sad, maybe, but not sick. Her heart sank a little.

  “Come here, honey.”

  She pressed her palm against his forehead. “No fever.” She hadn’t expected one, not really. She folded herself around his solid little frame. “Are you thinking about your dad?”

  Josh buried his face in her shoulder. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I guess.”

  “It’s hard not to on a day like this.” She combed her fingers through hair that needed a trim. “You probably miss him, huh?”

  Josh only burrowed deeper into her arms. “I think I’m s’posed to. But he wasn’t like my friends’ dads. He was always yelling about something.”

  Well, there was that.

  She patted Josh’s shoulders. “That wasn’t your fault. Or mine. Your dad, he pushed himself to be number one all the time. In any profession, that’s a good goal. If you work really hard at it, you might get to be the best for a while. Sooner or later, though, someone younger or stronger will come along and take your place. That’s tough for some people to handle. It was for your dad.”

  She braced for the anger that usually rose whenever she dwelled on her past with Ryan. To her surprise, she felt only a wisp of regret, proof that she’d grown, had changed enough that she no longer needed to hold on to the old hurts. She rubbed Josh’s shoulders and hoped he wouldn’t either.

  “You got that, buddy?”

  “I think so,” he said slowly. His face scrunched. “After Dad, after he…you know…none of my friends wanted to hang out with me anymore. Do you think people here are different?”

  She swallowed past the insults and betrayals her little boy had suffered. “I think your new friends appreciate you for who you are and not because you’re the son of somebody famous. I’d like to think that Coach Oak is right. He says they’ll be your friends for always.”

  “I’d like that, too,” Josh murmured.

  Sensing the crisis of the moment had passed, she gave him a final squeeze. Like her, Josh had done a lot of growing up since they’d moved to Cocoa Village. She tickled his ribs. “Why don’t you get ready so we can go.”

  She watched her son race down the hall. A few minutes later she held Addie close, inhaling her little girl’s sweet scent while she went over instructions with the babysitter. Her insistent toddler clamored to get down, and Courtney sighed. The days of cuddling her baby were numbered.

  Did she want another one?

  A baby? The question caught her off guard, and she almost laughed.

  How many nights had she walked the floor alone with Josh? Or rocked Addie until dawn when she couldn’t sleep? A dozen? A hundred? Did she really want to go through all that again? Would Travis?

  The image of a tiny newborn resting on his wide chest shushed her objections. Maybe another baby wasn’t such a terrible idea. Not with Travis at her side. She kissed her little girl’s cheek and lowered her to the floor.

  “Give Mama a goodbye hug,” she said as Josh headed downstairs, where he’d probably con Nicole out of a snack from the display case.

  “Bye-bye.” Addie waved. She turned toward her stacking toys. “Bewuuu.” She picked up a blue ring and slid it onto the pole.

  Courtney fluffed the child’s curls and followed Josh.

  At McLarty Park, the boy practically bolted from the car the minute he glimpsed the three large tour buses that sat in the parking lot, their engines idling. Travis waited for them, too, just as she’d known he would. He stopped Josh, clapped the boy on the back and sent him toward the first bus.

  In spite of his dark sunglasses, she knew Travis’s eyes shone just for her. His full lips curved into the smile she’d come to expect whenever he looked her way.

  Certainty flooded her. Here was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. The man she’d entrusted with her heart, her family.

  On its heels came the question she’d avoided for too long. Would he forgive her for the secrets she’d kept? He deserved to hear the truth from her own lips, and she decided to tell him everything, the whole truth. Now. Before they left for Twister Stadium.

  Opening her car door, she stepped into his embrace. He leaned into her. “We still on for tonight?” he whispered before he kissed her.

  “Can’t wait.” She already wished the day was behind them. “You have a minute?”

  “For you, all the time in the world. What’s up?” He waved an absentminded greeting at the cars that pulled into the rec center’s parking lot.

  One glance at the players and parents who had arrived earlier than expected and Courtney knew she’d missed her chance. Her news would have to wait until she had Travis all to herself.

  “It’s probably nothing, but Josh said his stomach hurt this morning,” she hedged.

  “Gotcha,” Travis said, steering them toward the buses. “We’ll make sure he limits himself to three hot dogs and two bags of popcorn.”

  That much junk food wasn’t exactly the cure she’d been hoping for, but the seriousness of his tone told her she could trust Travis to watch out for her son.

  The next two hours passed in a flash as she and Travis checked names off lists, made sure everyone boarded the right buses and squelched the occasional prank during the fifty-mile ride to Orlando. Walking into Twister Stadium brought a fresh flutter of unease, but she kept her head down, her chin tucked into her chest, while the Sluggers paraded around the field with teams from all over the state. She hung back while Travis introduced his players to the starting lineup for the Cannons and the boys got autographs.

  She breathed easier when they finally headed for their assigned seats. High on the upper deck, she sank onto a wooden bench next to Travis. For a while they stayed busy,
passing bags of peanuts or popcorn, hot dogs or sodas down the line of hungry young boys. Soon that tapered off, leaving them free to watch the game. Which, as far as Courtney was concerned, didn’t compare to the sensation of Travis’s bare knee next to hers, her hip pressed to his, his arm oh-so-casually draped across the back of her seat.

  But it was a bad day for Twisters fans as the Cannons piled up runs in the first six innings. They scored twice more before their first baseman hit into a double play to retire the side. In seconds, ticket holders surged to their feet for the seventh-inning stretch. As the visitors headed for their dugout, the strains of “I’m a Twister, you’re a Twister” reverberated through the stadium. Cameras zeroed in on toe-tapping fans who had forgotten, at least temporarily, that the other team was winning.

  Courtney glanced up at the images displayed on the huge monitors and pulled her baseball cap low over her eyes. Far below them, the Cannons ran onto the field while the Twisters prepared for their turn at bat. And then one last picture flashed onto the Jumbotron.

  Beside her son, his pals nudged and pointed as Josh’s face filled the huge screen. Laughing, he pointed to his image while the announcer’s voice played through the sound system.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give a warm Twister welcome to Josh Smith. Josh is here today with his Little League team, the Cocoa Village Sluggers. I hear Josh hit a grand slam yesterday to win the championship. Sounds like he’s following in his father’s footsteps. Yes, that’s right. Josh is the son of the late Ryan Smith, the greatest hitter in the history of baseball. So let’s give it up for one of our own.”

  The stadium erupted, though not everyone was as pleased as the announcer to have the late superstar’s family in their midst. Courtney froze at the catcalls and boos that punctuated the applause. White noise filled her head. People pointed, fired questions. She couldn’t make out the words, couldn’t respond if she’d wanted to.

  She didn’t.

  Her gaze locked on to her son. Surrounded by his pals on the next row down, he seemed oblivious to the jeers that sounded so loud in her ears. All grins, Josh’s teammates bumped shoulders with him and traded high fives. Once the applause faded, Josh grabbed his bag of popcorn and went back to watching the game. She knew there’d be more questions, more issues to deal with later. For now, though, he’d handled his newfound notoriety in typical kidlike fashion.

  Certain that Travis, too, had heard the crowd’s reaction and would finally understand why she’d kept her past a secret, she turned to him.

  The man beside her had turned to stone.

  Aware that the arm across her shoulders had grown rigid, she swallowed a sour taste.

  “Travis?” she whispered.

  He waved her off. His jaw worked. A harsh whisper meant for her ears alone hissed across his lips. “Ryan Smith, the Ryan Smith?”

  Her heart in her throat, Courtney could only nod.

  Travis stood, his expression shuttered. Without so much as a second glance, he stepped into the pedestrian tunnel that led to the main floor.

  A shudder ran through her. She had to explain. Had to tell him that keeping her secret had nothing to do with him and everything to do with shielding her family from the media. From pitying looks and accusations. From people who condemned her for putting her children’s needs above her own.

  She signaled the assistant coach to watch the boys and took off after the man she wanted in her life forever.

  On the mezzanine level she caught a glimpse of his broad shoulders just before Travis ducked into the men’s room. Her feet skidded to a stop outside the door. Ten minutes later she was still waiting when Frank Booker strolled into view looking as if he’d won the lottery. Apparently, tearstained cheeks were no deterrent to the scout. He walked straight up to her and held out his hand.

  “Ms. Smith, it’s good to see you again.” His perpetual squint narrowed. “You must be so proud of your son. I know the Cannons will be following his development very closely. Travis was sure right when he said the boy could play. He’s the image of his father.”

  Courtney’s heart stuttered. She drew herself to her full five feet two inches and stared the man straight in the eye.

  “How is Travis involved?” she demanded.

  “Why, he invited me to come see the boy play.” The scout bared his yellow teeth in a grin.

  Okay, so she hadn’t told Travis everything, but from the moment they met, she’d made her feelings about baseball abundantly clear. That was one thing she hadn’t kept secret.

  A fresh round of tears swarmed into her eyes. Anger helped her battle them. Certain of only one thing, she scrubbed her cheeks. No matter what his motives, no matter what his reasoning, Travis had gone behind her back to do something he knew she adamantly opposed. “Mr. Booker, I’m afraid you’ve been misled. Josh isn’t going to play professional baseball. Not ever. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Her chin wobbled but she refused to let another tear fall. Instead, she began counting the hours. One more at the stadium. Two to load everyone onto the buses and drive back to Cocoa. Addie would have long since gone to sleep by the time she got home, and Josh, Josh was staying with the Markhams. That made three hours, four tops. She could hold it together that long. But after that, there was a heartbreak waiting with her name on it.

  Courtney and Ryan Smith? The Ryan Smith.

  Like a missed grounder, the news bounced between Travis’s feet. Needing time to come to grips with such an earth-shattering idea, he sought the privacy of the men’s room. The sounds from the noisy stadium faded as he propped his hands on either side of a sink. He let his head hang low enough that none of the other guys would notice the moisture that gathered in his eyes. Moisture, he insisted, because P.E. and Little League coaches didn’t cry any more than former minor league baseball players did.

  No wonder Josh showed a lot of promise. With Ryan Smith as his father, the boy probably had more natural baseball acumen in his little finger than Travis had in his entire body. And he’d tried to coach the kid?

  Just give him a bat and let him swing, fool!

  As for Courtney, things made a lot more sense now that he knew she had once been married to the greatest hitter who ever lived. He groaned, thinking of how he’d tried to impress her with his own prowess at the bat. She’d never been dazzled by his skills, and why would she be? Her husband had been the best of the best.

  His mind racing, he thought back to the blue dress she’d worn to the Little League fund-raiser. He’d thought then the gown clung to her curves as if it’d been made for her. It probably had been. Some fancy designer in New York or Paris had in all likelihood crafted it precisely to her petite form.

  He swore softly. She probably had closets full of the things.

  After all, she’d lived in the rarefied world of a superstar. She was used to elegance and fancy restaurants. While the best he could offer were casual dinners at the local pizza joint.

  He shook his head. She deserved better. Better than a second-rate pitcher. A washed-up has-been who’d traded his cleats for a career as a teacher.

  The sudden urge to smash something buzzed about his head. His hands fisted. He reared back, stopping himself only moments before his knuckles shattered a mirror.

  He flexed his fingers.

  There was more to Ryan Smith than his history in baseball. If only half the tabloid accounts were true, the man had been an abysmal father, a loathsome husband. His hair-trigger temper on the field was as legendary as his batting statistics. Any other player would have been benched. Maybe suspended. Instead, according to locker-room scuttlebutt, the front office had hired a PR company to cover up the affairs, the DUIs, the gambling.

  No wonder Courtney didn’t trust baseball to do right by her son.

  But she hadn’t trusted him, either.

  When Travis got down to the heart of the matter, that was where it all fell apart. She hadn’t trusted him. Not enough to tell him who she really was. And without trust, how cou
ld there be love?

  Motion behind him made him check the mirror. The bathroom had grown crowded, the way it usually did at the end of an inning. No matter how much he wanted to crawl home and howl, it was time to get back to his team. He splashed cold water on his face and retraced his steps through the tunnel.

  Right where he’d left her, there sat Courtney. Despite her shocking revelation, she hadn’t even cared enough to come after him but sat, her arms crossed, her knees pressed tightly together, looking anywhere but at him. He slid onto the bench, careful not to brush against her.

  His stomach hit a new low as he waited for her to apologize. Or at least explain. She did neither, instead offering him a cold shoulder and a healthy dose of the silent treatment. He endured it longer than any sane man could. Midway through the visitor’s last at bat, his eyes glued to the action on the field, he issued a slant-sided whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “What difference did it make?” Cold air brushed his shoulder when she gave an indifferent shrug. “Ryan’s gone. Besides, I’m not the only one who kept secrets.”

  “You know everything there is to know about me.” Travis cupped his hands over his knees.

  She turned to him then. Not that it helped. Dark sunglasses hid whatever emotion filled her eyes.

  “I thought I did. I trusted you. I trusted you with Josh. And you betrayed us.” There was no mistaking the angry tremor in her voice. “You spoke to Frank about him.”

  He wanted to challenge her accusation, but couldn’t. He had contacted Frank. Had praised the boy’s skills. If he’d known the truth about Josh’s father, he might have acted differently. But he couldn’t change the past. He bit back the attempt to justify his actions with a shrug that asked, “Why bother?”