Matt Jackson, Catcher (Bottom of the Ninth #2)

by Jean Joachim

  “I’m here,” came the reply in a shaky voice.

  “Honey, please. Don’t do this.”

  “You’re the one who’s doing this. Stop it.”

  “I can’t.”

  After a slight pause, she spoke again. “I gotta go. Do you want me to send the ring back?”

  “No. Keep it.”

  “I can’t do that. We overlap in Pittsburgh. I’ll give it to you then, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure. Whatever.”

  “I’m sorry, Matt. I hope you understand.”

  “I do. Softball is more important to you than I am. I get it loud and clear.”

  “No. That’s not it. If you really loved me, you’d let me play.”

  “You don’t know what I went through when Marnie died. I can’t live through that again.”

  “And you assume I’m going to die in a bus accident?”

  “It could happen. Very easily.”

  “And I could get hit by a bus crossing the street or live to be ninety. Who knows? There are no guarantees, Matt. That’s your problem. You want guarantees. There are none.”

  “I think what I’m asking is reasonable.”

  “Well, I don’t. So, it’s over.”

  “Please,” he begged, hoping one more time might soften her attitude.

  “I can’t. I’m sorry you don’t understand.”

  He sighed.

  “Look. I gotta go. I’ll see you in Pittsburgh. If you want the ring back sooner, just say so. I’ll send it FedEx or something.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Thanks, anyway. It was a beautiful, if short, engagement.”

  “I love you, Dusty.”

  “I love you, too Matt. Have a happy life.” He heard crying again.

  “You too,” he said, his voice cracking. He ended the conversation before he broke down.

  There was a knock on the door, followed by Bobby’s voice. “Downstairs in twenty minutes.”

  He didn’t have time to break down. He went to the sink, washed his face, and downed a glass of water. Sadness mixed with relief in his chest. Sure, he loved Dusty, but marriage? He’d never expected marriage to come into his life. He wasn’t prepared for it. A relationship? Matt Jackson could handle anything a pitcher or batter could throw at him, but not a woman.

  He’d wanted to love her, the minute he’d laid eyes on her. Sweet Dusty, standing so vulnerable, half-naked in the locker room, then a wildcat, spitting, screaming, and throwing things at him. All he had seen was a beautiful young woman –probably a spitfire in the bedroom. And he’d been right.

  Now, it was over. He could return to his familiar, lonely existence. A few one-night stands and on his own the rest of the time. He knew how to live like that. He could do it in his sleep.

  * * * *

  Back in New York, Dusty snatched some tissues from the box on the coffee table and ran to her room. Tears flowed, spilling down her cheeks as she closed the door and flopped down on the bed. Her heart pumped faster, and her hands shook. She’d made the hardest decision in her life and had nothing but the taste of regret in her mouth to show for it.

  The door opened. It was Nicki.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Matt and I broke up.”

  “What? Why?” Her friend sat down on a corner of the mattress.

  Between sobs, Dusty explained her discussion with her fiancé.

  “The man has shit for brains. He’s madly in love. What a jerk!”

  “I understand how he feels. I get it. I do. But I can’t stop living my life on a ‘maybe.’ Disasters happen. You can’t second-guess life.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “You think so?” Dusty rolled over to face her roommate.

  “Maybe without you, he’ll come to his senses. Change his mind?”

  Dusty shook her head. “Not Matt. He’s pretty stubborn. Once he makes up his mind, that’s it.”

  Nicki rubbed her friend’s back. “You never know. Anyway, it’s his loss. You’re the best.”

  “Thanks, Nicki.”

  “Does this mean I won’t get to hang with the ’Hawks again?”

  “It kinda does. Why?”

  “That Nat Owen guy. He’s kinda cute.”

  “When I return the ring, I’ll ask Matt to have him call you.”

  “Don’t bother. So, you’re returning this beautiful thing?” Nicki lifted up Dusty’s hand.

  “It’s his. I hope he can get his money back.” Dusty sighed. She’d never had anything that expensive or that beautiful.

  “It’s yours. Probably worth a lot too.”

  “I can’t do that, Nicki. You know me. Never keep anything that doesn’t belong to you.”

  “Yeah, I know. Honest to the roots.”

  “So are you.”

  “Come on. Dinner’s almost ready.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” the pitcher said, dabbing her eyes.

  After Nicki left, Dusty pushed up to her feet. She took sneak peeks at her hand during dinner. She’d leave the ring on, for a little while longer. Although Nicki piled food on Dusty’s plate, she had no appetite. She declared that her broken heart had affected her stomach. She pushed the food around and watched the ring gleam, a star-like emblem of their love.

  “Am I doing the right thing?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Nicki said, shoveling a forkful of stew into her mouth.

  One glance at Lorna and Evie stopped Dusty cold. Neither roommate could look her in the eye. “Somehow, I don’t think you two agree.”

  “Nope. I think you’re fuckin’ nuts,” Lorna said, straightening in her seat. “Guys like Matt Jackson don’t come along every day.”

  “I appreciate your honesty. Evie?” Dusty faced her friend.

  Evie twisted in her chair and stared at her food. “I don’t, either,” she said, her head snapping up, her gaze seeking Dusty’s. “I’ve never seen you so happy. When you were with that guy, you never stopped smiling.”

  “You’re right. Both of you. But what’s done is done.”

  Overcome with exhaustion, she rose from the table and returned to her bed. Slipping between the sheets, she pulled a large bolster in with her. Cuddling next to it, she glanced at the ring, which decorated her hand so perfectly, and smiled. Closing her eyes, she conjured up the feeling and the scent of Matt Jackson. Wrapping her legs around the pillow, she pulled the blanket over her shoulder, cutting off an unwelcome breeze.

  Ignoring the fact that her overstuffed companion didn’t generate any warmth, she allowed her mind to drift back to fun times with her lover. She imagined the crack of the bat when he’d hit his game-saving homerun. Her palate tasted the hot dog she’d eaten in the stands as she watched him catch.

  Snuggly, sexy thoughts lingered as she remembered their lovemaking and the sweet afterglow, resting in his arms. Lorna was right. Dusty would probably never find another man like Matt Jackson. She’d been his for a while and that would have to last.

  She wasn’t ready to turn her back on the career she had fought so hard and sacrificed so much to achieve. It was coming true now. And with his guidance on batting, she’d be the best hitting pitcher in the league. Her star was rising, and she simply didn’t have the heart to snuff it out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As fast as the news of his engagement hit the press, so did the news of his break-up. His buddies gave him a nod after the game where he had played pitifully. Cal was steamed, but the guys understood.

  Matt was grateful to have the next day off. He needed to get Dusty out of his system before the next game. Like he could ever get over her. He dreaded Pittsburgh. They had agreed to meet so she could return the ring. As much as it cost, he didn’t want it back. What would he do with a diamond ring? Sell it? He couldn’t.

  His cell rang. Checking the screen, he saw an unlikely number.

  “Hey, Pop, what’s up?”

  “I read about your engagement. It made me very happy. Then, poof!
Up in smoke. What the hell happened?”

  “Bad timing.”

  “Must be more than that.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I looked up your schedule. You’re due here in a couple of days. I want to see you. I have something important to tell you.”

  “Tell me now, if it’s such a big fuckin’ deal.”

  “Watch the way you speak to me. I’m still your father, even if you are a big, hotshot baseball star.”

  “I wasn’t such a star today. I’m sorry, Dad. So, what is it?”

  “This has to be done in person.”

  “All right. All right. If it’s that important. After the game, I’ll pick up a pizza and come by.”

  “Good. Fine. Don’t forget the anchovies. Now, tell me about the girl.”

  “What’s to tell? She’s gone. She’s a pro softball player. She picked her career over me.”

  His dad chuckled. “Sounds just like something you’d do. You two must’ve been a good match.”

  “I thought so. Guess I was wrong.”

  “Time for my meds. Gotta go. See you soon.”

  “Bye, Pop.”

  Matt stretched out on the bed in his hotel in Washington, D.C. Soon, they’d hit Pittsburgh. The last little shred of hope would vanish the moment she handed him that bauble. Cal had given him the day off in Baltimore. He’d grumbled plenty about Matt letting a girl wreck his game, but he knew when his man was hurting.

  Matt had never missed a game. He’d argued with Cal, but lost. He couldn’t defend the lousy game he’d had the day before. Reluctantly, he agreed he wasn’t in top form. For the good of the team, he shut up and accepted Cal’s ruling without any more fuss.

  In the dugout, Dan handed Matt the cap. “Since you’re not playing, you do the pool.”

  “I don’t want to look for hot chicks.”

  “So, don’t. But you get the money and declare the winner.”

  Matt knew his friend was only trying to help by giving him something to do. He made the rounds, collecting from about ten guys. Sitting next to Dan, who wasn’t pitching, the catcher scanned the stands.

  “Who knew there could be so many redheaded women at a baseball game,” he muttered.

  “Snap out of it. We’ve got games to win.”

  “Easy for you. You’re planning a wedding. I feel like I’m attending a funeral.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have assumed she’d give up softball. I mean, would you?”

  “I’m making damn good money. She’s making five grand a month for two months a year.”

  “It’s not about money, and you know it.” Dan unwrapped another piece of gum.

  “Okay, okay. Take her side.”

  “I’m not taking anyone’s side. I’m saying you were wrong to expect that.”

  “Okay! So, I was wrong! So, fuckin’ shoot me!” Matt sprang to his feet, yelling.

  Brows knitted, Cal shot a look at him.

  “Shut the fuck up. Just listen. I’m saying if you’d back off this stupid idea, she’d probably come back to you,” Dan said.

  Matt sank down on the chair and stared at his hands. “Maybe.”

  “Definitely. She said ‘yes’ once, right?”

  Matt nodded.

  “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

  “You haven’t been through what I’ve been through.”

  “Fine. Stick your nose in the air. Be miserable. I’m done talkin’.” Dan got up and sat next to Skip Quincy.

  The Nighthawks won the game, with no help from Matt Jackson. The men headed back to the hotel to pack up and catch the bus for the airport. Matt took his time.

  A banging on the door drew his attention.

  “Hey, asshole! The whole fuckin’ team is waiting on you,” Bobby Hernandez called in.

  “I’m coming.”

  “Like, now?”

  “Yeah.” Matt opened the door.

  “Guy, you gotta cut the gloom and doom shit. Get back on track. We need you, man.” Bobby patted his friend on the back and took his bag. Matt hoisted his backpack and trudged down the stairs behind his teammate. Never had he dreaded a city as much as Pittsburgh. Two unpleasant encounters—one with Dusty and then his father. He shivered slightly as he slipped into the empty seat next to Dan.

  “This seat taken?” Matt looked at his friend from hooded eyes.

  “Yeah, it’s reserved for assholes. Oh, wait a minute. That’s you. Sit down.”

  * * * *

  They arrived early for the double-header scheduled for that afternoon and evening. It began to rain when they entered the city.

  Dan shook his head. “I hate fuckin’ rain delays.”

  Matt didn’t mind that the weather matched his mood. “Why?”

  “Who do you think I’d rather be with—you or Holly?”

  “I get it.”

  “If they call the game, it means another double-header down the road,” Dan said.

  They checked into the hotel then boarded the bus for the stadium. The team huddled in the dugout, watching the water falling from the sky.

  Matt kept checking his phone. No text from Dusty. She was scheduled to play that day too.

  As the day wore on, the rain delay continued. Then, the wind picked up, and rain fell harder. A storm had been predicted, and it had arrived right on time. Then, both games were called.

  “We’re scheduled to fly home tonight, but I doubt anything’s going out. We’ll leave tomorrow morning,” Cal announced.

  The men grumbled as they boarded the bus to return to the hotel.

  Matt’s cell dinged. It was from Dusty.

  Game rained out. How about you? Where are you staying? I’ll bring ring over.

  Heading back to the Gateway Arms.

  Be there in an hour.

  Fine.

  When he hung up, his stomach clenched. Probably his last meeting with her, he figured. At the hotel, Nat, Bobby, and Skip invited him to go eat with them, but he declined. He went to his room, brushed his teeth, twice, slapped on aftershave, and paced.

  What room?

  512

  He toweled the sweat off his face and opened the window. Then, he closed it and flipped on the air conditioning. But it wasn’t cooling the room off fast enough, so he lowered the temperature and stood directly in front of the cold blast. He raised his arms, letting the air flutter the long sleeves of his white, button-down shirt.

  Sure, he always wore white. Couldn’t make a mistake with white. He cursed himself. That was Matt all over—worried about making mistakes. All his adult life, he’d been paying for the mistake of getting Marnie into baseball and the bad behavior that drove his mother to leave.

  Now, his best friend had told him right to his face that he was being an asshole and making the wrong decision. What if something happened to Dusty? He couldn’t take any more loss in his life. He’d done it. His mom, Marnie, Stephanie—he didn’t have anything left.

  If he was so sure this was right, how come he was sweating enough for ten guys? He grabbed a glass off the counter in the bathroom and filled it with water. He downed it in one gulp then turned when he heard the soft knock.

  His feet seemed to weigh a hundred pounds each as he made his way to the door. He swallowed before turning the knob. There she was, more beautiful than ever with her long, auburn hair in soft curls around her shoulders, and her blue eyes sad.

  He stepped back. “Come in.”

  She crossed the threshold, her gaze on the floor.

  “How’ve you been?”

  With that question, her head snapped up. “How the hell do you think I’ve been?”

  “You look good.”

  “I’m devastated, Matt! What kind of question is that?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And you? How are you?”

  “Sick to my stomach.”

  “There, ya see?”

  “I’m always saying the wrong thing with you. That’s just how we started out.”

&
nbsp; “And how we’re going to end it?” Tears clouded her eyes.

  “With me being an asshole? Yeah. Probably.” He hung his head and put his hands in his pockets.

  She stuck out her hand, her fingers wrapped around the little, blue box. “Here. Before I forget why I came.”

  He stared at it, then at her, then back at the container, but made no move to take it. “Uh?”

  “Oh! Oh, yeah. Sorry,” she said, sliding the ring off her finger and putting it inside. She blushed. “I kept it on because that was the best way to keep it from getting lost.”

  “It looked beautiful on you.”

  “Thanks.” She took a deep breath and looked away. “You’re not helping.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “There you go, apologizing again.”

  “It’s what I do best. With you, anyways.” He took it, stuffing it in his pocket.

  “Oh, no,” she said, her voice so low, it was almost a whisper. “Loving is what you do best.”

  Emotion gathered in his throat, cutting off words. Loving her is what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

  “I’d better go,” she said, motioning toward the exit. “The bus is leaving soon.”

  He nodded, but didn’t mean it. He wasn’t ready to let her leave. He took two steps forward and opened his arms. She glanced up at him then fell into his embrace, sobbing into his chest. He held her close against him, resting his chin on the top of her head.

  “I’ll always love you. If you’re ever in trouble,” he started, then his voice caught. “You can come to me.”

  She nodded, swiping at her eyes with her fingers. He yanked a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and gave it to her.

  “If I don’t leave now,” she said.

  “You never will,” he finished.

  Dusty pushed off his pecs, backing toward the door. “Have a good life.”

  Before he could respond, she was gone. Emptiness filled his heart. He shivered.

  “Who turned the fuckin’ AC up to North Pole?” he muttered, resetting the dial.

  He slumped down on the bed and stared out the window at the rain. He fingered the velvet box in his pocket, his mind empty, his heart full. Words she’d said came back to him, especially the ones about loving.