“What are you doing here, Nate? You left all this behind remember?”
Now I’m just being a bitch.
“Oh, wow. Of all the things I thought you would say to me, that was not it, El.”
He turns around and for a moment I think he’s gonna go back to the house and leave me here reeling. Instead he strides over to a rock pile, a few yards in front of us and sits down on one of the higher ones. Before placing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. This would be my perfect opportunity to leave, then I wouldn’t have to deal with this. I could go back to my room, get my stuff and leave, but I don’t. I physically can’t make my feet turn in the other direction, no matter how much I want too. Taking some slow steps towards where he’s sitting, I come to a complete stop when he yells.
“I loved you more than anything, you broke me, Eliza.”
“Nate, please…” he stops me from talking when he jumps down from where he’s sitting and strides over to me.
“I still love you, that’s not changed, but it doesn’t mean I’m still not hurt by what you did. You just ended us without a valid reason, well it didn’t seem valid to me anyway. Then you just disappeared from college, no proper explanation. I’m torn right now between wanting to demand answers from you or kissing you, because believe me I want to do both.”
He starts pacing up and down in front of me, his fingers pull on his hair, that I’ve spent many hours running my fingers through. It’s then when I notice how twisted up, he is, that for one night, instead of fighting with him I can give him a proper goodbye. The goodbye he didn’t get from me last time. Then we can have the closure we both need and move on from each other. I know I’m being selfish, but if he asks me questions, that I can’t and don’t want to answer, he’ll see I’m hiding something and push me to answer him, until I break altogether. That can’t happen.
“Kiss me.” I tell him, “I want you to kiss me, Nate. No more talking…” I’m cut off mid-sentence when he stops his pacing and rushes at me, before taking my lips against his. It’s not a soft kiss. We’re both so pent up, emotional and angry, that we put everything we’re feeling into it. Our tongues battle against each other’s, he bites down on my bottom lip causing me to whimper. At the same time his hands grip my face in a tight hold so I can’t move. Before they make their way into my hair and pulls on the hair tie holding my hair up, letting it tumble free down my back.
“Fuck, El. You make me fucking crazy with wanting you.” He says against my lips.
When I open my eyes, I see his are screwed up so tight, as if being with me now, is causing him physical pain.
“I’m here now, so let’s make each other feel better and enjoy the here and now.”
My words seem to bring him back to me. The next thing I know, he’s got me by the hand and he’s leading me around the back of the rocks. Where I notice there’s a man-sized hole knocked through the stone.
“Nate… what’s this?” I question.
“This is where me and Dean used to come when we’re younger. When the parties or Sammi got too much for us and we just wanted to escape for a little while.” He chuckles at the last part of that sentence about Sammi. If she was anything like the way she is now, I can imagine they needed a break from her.
Releasing my hand, Nate turns to face me. His hands cup my jaw, as his thumb plays with my bottom lip.
“I have so much I want to say to you. So many questions that I don't even know where to begin, but all of that can wait; because right now, I have to have you.”
My breathing changes instantly with his words and I know what I'm about to do is the right thing. Even if it is on a beach, at the place, he deems his. It seems fitting for my final goodbye to him.
Nate Michaels is and always has been destined for bigger things, and they don’t include me.
Chapter Eight
Nate
Eight Years Later L.A.
“Michaels, get your butt in here boy.”
Fuck me. What have I done now?
When Coach Jackson shouts you into his office after practice and with the tone of voice, he's just done it in. It usually means you're in deep shit, but the last time I checked, my latest bed buddy had kept her mouth shut. She went on her merry little way with a satisfied smile on her face. Coach surely can't know about that? Even if he did, it wouldn't be a decent enough reason to chew me out, unless it went to the press.
“Michaels, don't make me ask again.”
Sighing dramatically, knowing I can’t put off any longer whatever it is I'm about to be bitched out for. I throw my mitt on the bench next to me and stand. Now, normally Coach loves me. I'm his number one player and the reason the team have been at the top of the league for the last six years, but that doesn't mean I've been his star player off the pitch. He's not afraid to tell me when I've fucked up. No-one here knows about my life before I came here, I keep that shit to myself. To them, I'm Nate Michaels batter extraordinaire, the god of pussy and I like it that way.
Dragging my sorry ass over to his office, I tap my knuckles on the door.
“Coach.” I say in a way of a greeting, if not a little on the cautious side, just in case he starts shouting at me.
“Shut the door and take a seat, Michaels. We have shit to discuss.”
Waving a hand out in front of him, in the direction of the chairs in front of his desk, where he's sitting. The chairs I've sat in more times than I care to count.
“Look, Coach….”
“Just shut it, Nate. For once I'm not bollocking you, that is unless you know a reason why I should be ripping you a new one?”
Well that's a surprise, I was certain I was going be leaving this room with my tail between my legs.
Quick to defend myself that he has nothing to worry about, I say
“No, Coach. Everything is fine.”
“Good, I'm glad to hear it. Now what I wanted you for has been kept quiet until the contracts had all been taken care of and it was official, but Scott is transferring out to Texas to the Rangers.”
What? Our captain is leaving us? Why?
The shock on my face must be evident, this was the last thing I was expecting when he shouted me in here.
“I know this is a shock, believe me no-one was more shocked than me. I always thought he’d play for us until he retired, but his wife has a new job and he's going with her. I suppose that's what happens when you love someone, you'll follow them anywhere.”
He's having a laugh, isn’t he? Love? Love just gets you fucked over and left in unbearable pain.
Scott is a dick.
“So, what's Scott leaving got do with me? I mean he's my captain, but I wouldn't say we hang out.”
I'm confused, why not just get the whole team together and tell us all at the same time?
“It affects you, because the chairman and myself have been talking. We think you would be the perfect fit to take on the captain’s role.”
Excuse me? I didn't just hear him, right did I?
Me?
Captain?
Fuck.
I mean of course it's my dream to captain my team, but after all the shit I've put Coach through with some of my indiscretions, I was almost certain I would never get it. I’d even go as far to say that at one point I thought they were gonna kick me off the team.
I can't speak, my mind wants to say something, but the words just won't come. Thank you, just doesn't seem like a strong enough acceptance.
“Now, I know it's a lot of responsibility, but you've been with us quite a while and we feel that you're ready for the job. You know the lads on the team. Know how they play and think, but most importantly they look up to you. We think that with your guidance and skill, you can take them to the world series playoffs. Hell, with you as their leader you could go on to win the damn thing. I’m not going to rush for an answer right now, but we are gonna need one within the next few days from you, if you need time to…”
<
br /> “Coach.” I blurt out to stop him from talking, “I don’t need time to think about it. Of course I’d love nothing more than to be captain. It’s an honor to be chosen.” I tell him.
I don’t need to think about it, I don’t know why he would think I need too. No-one with half a brain would pass this opportunity up. It’s every players dream come true, it’s what we train and play our asses off for every week. It makes the pain I still feel every day that bit more bearable.
Since that day at the beach eight years ago, I’ve been in constant agony. Some days are better than others. Usually when I’m balls deep in some chick that wants me for my cock and to say she bagged the Nate Michaels for the night are the good days. Or when I walk out onto the pitch with my team. I stand on the diamond and breathe it all in, the crowd, my opposition, but most of all the noise. When they chant my name it gives me a sense of belonging, that someone actually wants me.
Because she certainly didn’t.
Fucked up I know, I never said I wasn’t screwed up in the head, but that’s what happens when you fall in love.
“Well… if you’re…”
“I don’t mean to be blunt here Coach, but before you say it, I’ll say it for you. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”
I stress my point so he knows I’m not fucking with him. Giving me a curt nod of his balding head, which no doubt I’ve caused most of over the years, he picks up a plastic folder and hands it to me.
“Here is your new contract, your salary will change now obviously, but I’ll warn you know, Nate. With this job, responsibility doesn’t just come with the game. It has to happen off the pitch as well. That means no fucking about and if you do, make sure they keep their goddamn mouths shut. You’re the face of the team now and you will be prime meat for the whores and journalists of this city.”
“Clearly noted, Coach. I will not let you down.”
I hope I won’t anyway.
If he thinks I’m never having sex again, then he can stick it up his….
“Another thing.” He interrupts my thoughts, “We’re holding a press conference this Friday, announcing the new captain. So you have to be here for twelve pm on the dot, don’t be late.”
I hear the warning in his tone, if I’m late then I can kiss my promotion goodbye.
“I’ll be here, I swear it, Coach.”
“Good. Now fuck off, you can tell the rest of the team, seeing as they’re going to be yours now. Oh, before you go feeling guilty about saying anything in front of Scott, don’t worry, he already knows.”
He gives me a wink, which I’ve never seen him do before, then I’m dismissed and I’m leaving with my new contract in my hands.
Shit.
Me?
I’m going to be the new captain of the L.A. Dodgers.
My first thought as I leave his office is to tell the one person I can’t.
Eliza.
Chapter Nine
Eliza
“Hello, Katie. Please come through.”
Greeting my next patient of the day, I smile and lead her into my office through my open door.
I love my job.
All the late nights studying, practically becoming a hermit, because my head was always in one text book or another. Seeing a patient of mine leave my office with a smile on their face, because I’ve helped them makes it all worth it. It makes me realize that I made the right choice all them years ago. It doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt everyday though.
Taking a seat behind my modern and sleek glass desk, I pull my chair further in and cross my legs at the ankles. While Katie gets comfortable in one of the squishy bucket chairs, I spent hours scouring over when I decorated the place.
Looking up at her over my glasses, I can tell she’s still not one hundred percent positive about being here. She’s looking around everywhere but at me, at the same time she nervously plays with her fingers.
“Katie… are you okay? Is there something that you want to talk about with me? I’m here to help you in any way I can.”
I use my soft and tender voice, the last thing I want to do to someone like her, is scare the shit out of her. According to her file I was given by the hospital, her mother was killed in front of her by her uncle. When she tried to stop him, he beat her up and nearly killed her too; she's only seventeen and no girl should have to deal with shit like she has.
“I've met someone.” She blurts out, surprising me, “But I can't be with him, I'm damaged and he deserves better.”
Her words freeze me to my chair, she's saying the words out loud, I kept telling myself eight years ago. The words I still tell myself now. It seems I'm good at fixing other people, just not myself. Pulling myself together, I pretend her words don't rattle me slightly, pick up my pen and notepad to make notes.
After our one-hour session, I've managed to get Katie to a place where she can go back and talk to the guy, she's interested in. I've told her to come back and tell me all about it next week.
Resting my elbows on my desk once I've seen Katie out, I place my head in my hands and inhale a deep breath through my nose.
I'm a hypocrite, I think to myself. I get paid to help people be happy with their lives, thing is I'm not happy in mine. I love my job, yes. I have friends that have been with me through thick and thin, but that's where it ends. Everyone pays for the bad choices they make at some point; I've been paying for mine since I left him on that beach. I thought it was the right thing to do when I gave him the final goodbye he deserved. My mind is reeling now. You'd think after all these years I would have moved on by now. I've tried, believe me. I've dated, I've had sex since then, but I soon stopped that when all I could see was Nate on top of me. It was him touching me and it was him who was kissing me like his life depended on it.
I’m deranged, I know.
There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think about him. I even torture myself and watch his games from time to time. In a roundabout way, it’s my way of making sure he’s okay. That I made the right decision in letting him go. In my defense though, I haven’t watched any for a while. It got too painful for me. Then when he started popping up in magazines, newspapers and online gossip sites with different women, it made me sick to my stomach.
He’s mine. I wanted to scream and shout, but I couldn’t because he was no longer mine. I let him go, I set him free so he could live the life he deserved and more.
I’m swinging from side to side on my chair, as all these thoughts and my fuckedupness takes over my mind. I’m snapped out of it when my phone on my desk rings and Tracy my assistant comes through the speaker.
“You have Sammi on line one, El.”
Thanking her, I pick up the receiver and press the button to connect our call.
“Hey…”
“Don’t you hey me, bitchface. It’s Friday and I’ve been texting you nonstop all morning and I’ve got fuck all back from you. Calling your office phone was the only way I could get a hold of you and you’d speak to me. You know what today is right? Please tell me you listened to what I told you two days ago?”
Argh, that’s what she’s calling me for.
Of course she is.
She has been texting me and I have been avoiding her. I know what she wants me to do and I’m not doing it. I can’t. When he’s on a pitch, he’s got his baseball helmet on so I can’t see his face when I’ve watched his games, but an actual press conference is out of the question. He’ll be on display. Even thinking about him being all suited and booted for the world to congratulate him, makes the pain in my chest squeeze that little bit harder.
“I’m not going to watch, Sam. I can’t. I’ve done so well, I’m proud of myself these last few weeks.” I don’t know who I’m trying to convince, myself or her?
“El, we both know he’s your kryptonite. You can pretend with me all you want, but I know you better than you know yourself. Just those few minutes you get to se
e him on the TV, will feed your addiction. Now if I was any sort of friend, I’d be saying to hell with him, it’s about time you got your shit together and moved on, but we both know you can’t.”
Again, the bitch is right.
“The way I see it, you either watch it and drool for ten minutes. Or you’ll spend god knows how long wishing you had. You let him go for this reason, El. He’s doing what you told him too.”
Again… the bitch has a point.
Someone tell me why I’m still friends with her? Oh, that’s right because she’s always been the one who picked me up when I thought my life was over. She was the one who helped me to slowly pick the pieces of my life back up. Wiped my tears when I thought I would die from missing him so much.
“Okay, okay. You have a point, as usual...” I cave and I know she’s smiling down the phone at her little victory.
“It’s twelve now, the announcement is being made in thirty minutes, do you have any more patients to see?”
“No, not until two.”
“Fucking A, that's perfect.”
“Why is that perfect? Sammi what are you up too?”
Nerves start to takeover me at the thought she’s done something I’m not willing to do.
“I’ve done nothing, it’s just I’m sat outside in my car because I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist watching in the end. Now get your fine ass out here, we’re off to Smiths for lunch.”
As if on cue my stomach grumbles informing me, I’ve abandoned my basic need of food all day. It’s then I remember I skipped breakfast because I had a patient coming in earlier than usual.
“I’ll be there in two.” I tell her, and as I hang up the phone, I can hear her chuckling down the line.
Opening the drawer in my desk, I take out my purse, throwing in my phone and some lip balm I use between patients. Before retrieving a hairbrush, I have in there and running it through my mass of dark, chestnut curls that I still can’t control.
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