Sinking into the booth, I put my leg up, sighing as it’s finally allowed time to rest. The PT I’m going through is hard, but it’s what I’ll have to do if I want to be able to play professional baseball again.
“You want me to double your order?”
“Why not?” I shrug. It’s an omelet, and I’m definitely losing more calories than I’m putting back in. I’ve lost ten pounds since the injury, and I can’t afford to lose much more. Bulking back up is difficult, especially putting on good weight. “Add some bacon and sausage to it.”
“Will do.” She sets a coffee and a water in front of me.
Glancing around the room, I nod at the group of older men sitting at a table not too far away from me before I grab my phone and start checking emails. Even though my season is done, for the most part, I still have appearances I’m hoping to be able to make in a few months, endorsement deals, and paid sponsorships that have to be posted on social media. My agent has promised to keep me in the forefront of fans minds, and I know he will.
Logging onto Instagram, I see that I’ve been tagged in a multitude of get well posts. It’s happened every day since I went down in Spring Training. Most everyone told me I needed to rehab in Birmingham with team doctors, surrounded by my teammates, but the truth is I needed a break. I know myself, and being with the team, while not being able to play, would have driven me insane.
“Here ya go.” Stephanie pushes a plate of food in front of me, along with a bottle of hot sauce.
“You know what I like.” I give her a smile before I liberally douse the omelet and move to take a bite.
“She’s back, ya know?” Stephanie says right as the fork is situated at my mouth.
My eyes cut to hers, my hand stays steady. “Who’s back?”
“Your girl. She rolled into town about a week ago.”
I force myself to put the bite of food into my mouth and chew, before taking a drink of my coffee. Somehow I knew this was going to happen; I’d heard from my little brother she was back, but I’d pretended like I didn’t know what he was talking about. “Don’t have a girl.”
Stephanie laughs, rolling her eyes. “Sure ya do, and look alive, she’s walking in right now.”
Over my egg white omelet and the cup of coffee I’m holding in my hand, I see the girl, now woman, who broke my heart all those years ago. She’d trampled on it, threw my words back in my face, and then the next morning she’d lit out of town going south, while I went southwest. We haven’t seen each other in the flesh since. That’s not to say I haven’t looked at her social media accounts, and I’m sure she’s looked at mine, but as far as being in the same room? Hasn’t happened since the night we broke up.
Malone Fulcher. No one’s come close, lived up to, or taken her place in my heart since that summer night we both drove away from Willow’s Gap and never looked back. As our eyes meet, a film strip of memories replays in my head, and I wonder if this small town is big enough for the both of us.
Six
Savage
Years ago, it would have killed me if Malone had walked through the door of the establishment I was in. Ego, pride, and stubbornness would have kept me from acknowledging her, from giving her a welcoming smile. I’d probably still be a bitter shell of the man I am now. Probably have a harsh word for her, if I’d even acknowledged her at all. Hell, that stubbornness has kept me away from here for the past ten years, for fear I’d run into her again. But this knee injury? It’s changed things for me. It’s shown me the world can turn in an instant, all the carefully laid plans you have for yourself can be fucked up in a matter of seconds.
Knowing that now, living that now, I give her a smile and throw two fingers in the air to wave at her. She looks around for a moment, almost like she can’t believe I’m gesturing to her, and for some reason that makes me laugh harder than I’ve laughed in years.
An amused smile on her face, she comes over. “Were you waving at me?”
“Nobody else walked through the door.”
Her hand goes on her hip, drawing my eyes down to her manicured fingers. I’m well acquainted with a woman who takes care of herself, have been since I cashed my first Major League check. Malone definitely takes care of herself now. What she wears isn’t a cheap manicure, but it does look like it’s been a few weeks since she’s had it done. This is shit I notice now.
Leaning down, I take a bite of my omelet. “Heard you hit town not too long ago.”
“Yeah.” She licks her lips as she gazes around the inside of the Diner. “Not for the same reasons you did though.” She tilts her head toward my knee. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”
“That right?” I chuckle, taking a drink of my coffee. “Heard it told back in the day you would have taken a club to this same knee. Now you’re sorry?”
Her face turns red, she squirms with an uncomfortableness I’m familiar with. Lots of people have it around me. Either they look at me in awe, or they’re totally uncomfortable. “I was a young girl who’d gotten my heart broken.”
I rub at the beard I’ve been sporting since I began my rehab. “If I remember things correctly, I’m pretty sure I was the one heartbroken.”
“It’s only because you didn’t give me a chance to explain, to express my fear to you. You took a gesture to mean everything, when to me it was just a little taste of independence I felt I needed.”
“How’s that independence treated you?” My tone is snarky, and that part I can’t seem to help. Honestly though, I’m genuinely curious as to what the answer will be. I don’t know why she’s back in town, but one thing I do know. Malone’s not happy, and while it might not be my place to make her happy anymore, I find I still don’t like it when she’s upset.
“Decent,” she sighs. “Some days are better than others. Some seasons of life are better than others. Right now I’m going through a trying one, much like you, but I’ll get through it.”
“I’m hoping I get through it.” I run my hand through my hair, before moving down to the beard and twisting the hair between my fingers. It’s become a nervous habit of mine, but I can’t see to stop it. “Never been hurt before; this is something new to me.”
“You’ll recover, right?” she asks quietly, like she’s scared I won’t.
“Awww, Mal.” I use her old nickname. “You worried about me?”
She looks everywhere but at my eyes. “Regardless of what happened to us, Slade-” she uses her own nickname. “-you were always one of my oldest friends, and contrary to what you probably think, I’ve followed your career. Not like I would have, had I been your girlfriend, but I kept track from afar.”
“Wife,” I correct her quickly. “You would have been my wife.”
She licks her lips, almost like she’s scared of what she’s stepping into here. I recover, to keep her talking, asking what I’m wondering. “You have?”
“Kinda hard not to when you stuck it to me and became one of the most popular baseball players of the modern era.” Her green eyes shine with what almost looks like pride.
“I was on a mission. Had to prove to you that you were wrong. Had to prove to myself I was right.” I take my last drink of coffee. “But to answer your question, they do think I’ll make a full recovery. PT fuckin’ sucks though.”
“At least you’ve been able to do it at home.”
“Yeah, moving back in with my parents has been a bit of an adjustment, but a few years ago I bought them a new house. It’s got an apartment over the garage and that’s where I’ve been staying, so it’s not been horrible.”
“Yeah, I know all about the moving back in with your parent’s thing.” She purses her lips.
“Is that why you’re back in town?”
The nod she gives me is slow and almost imperceptible. “Got fired, so now I’m looking for a new job. Just trying to figure it all out, ya know?”
Actually I don’t know, because I’ve been my own brand, for the most part, since I was old enough to have an alcoholic drink. Ther
e’s a whole slew of people who depend on me to have my shit together. There’s no figuring it out for me. I rehab and go play. That’s the endgame here.
“Well good luck on that, Mal. Maybe I’ll see ya around?”
“Yeah.” She gives me a grin. “Maybe so.”
As she leaves, I watch her, wondering for just a few seconds what it would have been like if we’d stayed together. What if we’d come back to this town together, to raise the kids we’d both wanted? Every time we’d talked about it before, it was two or three. More boys than girls, all within three years of each other. We’d buy land and build a house off of Route 129. We’d even thought of how the house would look, how many cars would be in the garage. There’d be a facility in the back so that I could train in the off-season and a barn for her, because Mal had loved horses but had never been able to afford one.
On one edge of the property we’d build my mom and dad a house, on the other, we’d offer to build her mom and dad one. My brother would be close, and I’d be able to help him in his own dreams with playing ball.
It was all planned out – until it wasn’t anymore, and the bottom had dropped out. I still wonder to this day how far would we be if we hadn’t given up. Probably at least on kid number two.
“You need anything else?” Stephanie asks as she drops off my check.
Clearing my throat, I look up at her, digging myself out of daydreams I haven’t had for a long time. “Nah, thanks I’m good.”
“It’s hard to see her, huh?”
“Memories are everywhere around this place. Probably why I never came back before now, but seeing her walk in here? I remember the day we broke up, the night I left, and when I vowed not to come back. It’s all so clear in my head,” I admit to her. “But what’s just as clear are all the plans we had, all the dreams we shared, and how close we were to making that a reality. It’s just hard to look at what could have been yours had you not let it slip through your fingers.”
“I’m sure she feels the same way, Slater.”
My shoulders shrug. I really don’t know how she feels. “Just one of those things you wonder, ya know?”
“Well, you are stuck here for the next few months until you’ll be cleared to start working out with your team again. Why not hang out with her? From what I hear, she’s stuck here too.”
Hanging out with her is the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life. She tore my heart to pieces once before, I can’t let her do it again. I can’t let myself fall for her. Malone Fulcher has always been my kryptonite. She’s the one woman I hold all others to. I’ve dated my fair share, even a few models, even an actress. None of them have ever made me feel the way she did.
And seeing her today? It drove that fact right the fuck home. If anything, I should stay as far away from her as I can.
“Thanks for the advice, Stephanie, but I gotta be going.”
Getting out of the booth, I take my time walking, practicing putting one foot in front of the other. I haven’t been off the crutches long.
As I get outside in the bright sunshine, I realize I don’t want to go home just yet. Instead, I do something I haven’t done in a very long time. I watch the world go by while I sit on a bench on Main Stree0074.
Seven
Malone
Putting on my sunglasses, I walk out of the Diner, surprised at my first encounter with Slater. Maybe I’d built it up too far in my head over the years, but it hadn’t been nearly as bad as I always assumed it would be.
Glancing around the downtown area, I look for some place interesting, where I can work until things turn around for me. Walmart and Target are at least an hour in each direction. It won’t be worth the money it would cost me to drive back and forth. No, my best bet would be to find something close.
The area has been revitalized. Back when I’d lived here as a teenager, some of the buildings were rundown and there were weeds growing through the cracks of the sidewalk. Most of the parking spots didn’t have paint left so you could be sure of where to park. Now? Things are well-kept, the sidewalks are clean, parking spots easily mapped out, and there are little markers here and there that tell the history of the town.
Taking stock of my options, I realize while many things have stayed the same over the years in Willow’s Gap, other things have changed pretty quickly. Off the top of my head, I don’t recognize most of the shops around the Diner, and I wonder just how much this town has grown. It looks like my options lay between a coffee shop and a bakery. I like both, but for some reason Sweeties, the local bakery, catches my attention more. Maybe it’s the whimsical, yet contemporary design of the outside, the clean logo, and the music I hear drifting out of the open door. Whatever it is, I quickly make my way over. It’s like it’s meant to be when I spot a help wanted sign in the front window.
“I’ll be right out.” I hear a voice calling from the back.
“Take your time.”
The sweet smell of pastries assaults my senses, but instead of turning my stomach, it reminds me of my grandmother’s house. Christmases baking cookies, cakes, and divinity. Of knowing that every afternoon when I got off the bus during the holiday season there would be something for me when I entered her home. A wave of nostalgia hits me, and like I’ve been known to do, I look up to the sky and give a little thanks that she seems to have pointed me in the right direction.
“Can I help you?”
The woman that comes from behind the counter is around my age, maybe a few years older. Her dark hair with streaks of hot pink hangs to her shoulders, a colorful cupcake tattoo is prominent on her wrist. I don’t remember her from when I lived here before, so more than likely she’s a transplant. One of the outsiders who heard about Willow’s Gap’s amazing tourist season and came here to make a life for herself. I can totally get behind that.
“You have a help wanted sign in the window?”
“Yeah, I was thinking more of a college kid though, I can’t pay much.” Her lips are colored pink and they remind me of the frosting on one of the cupcakes in her case. She definitely lives the colorful life she perpetuates here.
“I’m dependable, and innovative,” I tell her, proud of those two qualities. “And honestly, I’ve had to move back here to live with my parents, so beggars can’t be choosers. In my former life I did PR, so maybe I could help you get the word out about the business.”
She laughs. “I understand. If this place doesn’t make it, I’ll be moving back in with my parents too, and that’s not something I want to ever have happen. I can’t offer benefits, but I can offer you twenty-four hours a week at twelve dollars an hour. We’re closed on Sundays. You’ll be off on Mondays and Tuesdays. It’s early hours. I’m asking you to come in and start baking. So, it’ll be four to twelve. All you need to know how to do is follow a recipe and not burn anything. I’ll take care of the decoration and frosting, unless you can do some of that too.”
“Whatever you want to give me, I’ll do. Like I said, beggars can’t be choosers, and I just need to feel like I’m doing something with my life. I won’t be around forever,” I caution her and remind myself this won’t be a career for me. “But I work hard, and I take pride in it.”
“Have you ever baked before?” she asks as she has a seat at one of the empty tables inside. I have a seat across from her and try my best to appear professional.
“With my grandmother as a kid and teenager. I can decorate decently, but only easy stuff, like cupcakes. It’s been a few years,” I admit as I think back to those days standing with her, mixing the brownie mix when her arthritic fingers couldn’t do it any longer. Helping her lift the heavy pans of cake as she made one for my mom’s birthday. Those were some of the best memories of my life, and if I’d known how fleeting they were, I would have enjoyed them more and lived way more in the moment than I ever did back then.
“Oh, but you have that old school teaching. Sometimes that means more than anything. Be here tomorrow morning at four AM and we’ll see how you do? It’s n
ot rocket science, but not everyone can handle a kitchen.”
I’m excited with the prospect of having something to do besides lay in bed and think about how much my life has changed, about everything I’m missing. Everything I’ve had to give up. This could also be a good place to network, to meet other people my age, and see what’s going on in the working community here. “I’ll be here.” I give her a grin. “I’m Malone, by the way.”
“Cherry.” She extends a hand toward me.
“Really?” We shake, and I can’t hold back the laugh.
“It’s like my parents knew I was destined to either be a baker or a stripper.” Her joking tone alludes to the fact she’s heard it all before, probably more than once.
“You won’t be sorry you gave me a chance.”
She shrugs in a non-committal way that makes me wonder if she thinks I’ll actually show up. “We’ll see. Come tomorrow ready to work, the morning rush is kind of crazy. If you can handle that, then I’d love to have you on board.”
As I walk out of Sweeties, my posture is better than when I went in, and I’m already feeling good about going home and telling the family I got a job. Or at least an audition for one.
It’s a start, and a chance. It’s all anyone has ever needed.
“They gave your desk to the new girl,” my best friend in California, Tiffany is telling me as I talk to her later on that night.
She is the only person who’s called me, or even wanted to act like she knows me since the big fuck over. “I hope she bakes in the afternoon sun.”
Her giggle is loud. “No you don’t. You’re not that mean, Malone.”
“Oh, but I am. If it weren’t for her, I would still be there, doing what I love to do, living in my condo, and hanging out with you. Instead I’m in my childhood bedroom, living in a town that closes up shop at seven at night. There’s not even a good sushi place within an hour. Tell me how it’s fair?”
On the DL (The MVP Duet Book 1) Page 3