Playing for the Save (Men of Spring Baseball Book 3)

by Rachelle Ayala

  She glanced out the sliding glass door and watched her boys play baseball and knew in her heart that whatever happened, she couldn’t lose this chance.

  She’d take as much as she could get, dance as hard as she could, and when the clock struck midnight, she’d die happy knowing she’d seized the moment and never looked back.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Five days went by, and even though Jamie didn’t have time to visit Ryan, she texted him and talked to him on the phone every day. He was being released from the hospital and looking forward to the promised picnic lunch at the park.

  Even though Jamie wasn’t sure she should take Drew to the park, after that disastrous encounter with the irate parents, she figured they would stay away from the play structures and hoped things would go okay.

  She still couldn’t believe he was going through with this, that he actually wanted to spend time with her and her boys. Sometimes, she pinched herself, wondering if this flirtation or friendship was all in her mind. That kiss, however, lingered like a hidden treasure, a glittering diamond that she dug out every so often to cherish.

  Could she actually make it work with him? A professional ballplayer who was often on the road? One who was popular with the women, and no doubt had old flames in every town? A guy who lived a carefree single life with no responsibilities?

  Whatever happened, she wanted to make the day special, both for herself and her boys, and of course, keep the fantasy going a little longer. Every night, she looked forward to the phone call and chat, and she was tethered to her phone, texting him and sending him pictures of Drew and Ben, or a pretty flower, or anything she found interesting. She followed him on social media and saw how popular he was, with many fans and players sending him notes, pictures, and words of encouragement.

  Could he really want to spend his first day out of the hospital with her crew?

  Jamie went to the garage and found the old wicker picnic basket Andrew had bought long ago when they were dating. She blew off the dust, and lined it with a clean piece of linen. She gathered a large blanket and folded it, leaving it on the couch near the doorway, almost tripping on a toy truck.

  “Ben, Drew, let’s get your toys picked up. Ryan’s coming over to take us to the park, and we don’t want him tripping on anything.”

  “Will he play catch with me?” Ben followed her into the kitchen.

  “I’m sure he will.” Jamie took a cooler from under the counter and filled it with ice. “Go help your brother clean the living room.”

  “Drew, we have to line everything up neat and straight,” Ben said, rushing to the living room.

  One thing good about having an autistic child was his sense of neatness and order. Drew would pick up each toy and line it up in a certain order, making a train alongside the wall. Every stuffed animal had its place on the back of the sofa. Every car, truck, plane, and train had another special spot along the hallway.

  Even his balls were lined up in a row in his old crib, where Jamie kept his spare blankets, bath bucket, chew toys, and diaper backpack.

  The bad thing was when he noticed someone had touched his things, or put them out of order. The other day, after Marcia and her son left, Drew came home and rearranged all the cars and trucks Brock Jr. had played with. He was on the verge of a meltdown as he frantically adjusted the positions of each car, down to the detail of where the spokes on their tires were pointing.

  Jamie had had to remind him that toys in public places, like living rooms, and scattered on sofas were fair game, unlike items in his old crib, which was his own private collection. His sense of fairness got him over that hump, but he ended up taking a few of the cars and adding them to his crib.

  Fortunately, his attention to detail was paying off with toilet training. Jamie had the mirror fixed. She removed all the hard soap dishes and lotion dispensers and bought a new chart. Instead of stars, she got stickers of baseballs and Drew got to line them up every time he peed or pooped in the toilet. No extra stickers for wipes! Jamie realized her mistake on that one. He was expected to wipe himself and wash his hands before putting up the stickers, so that took care of itself.

  Humming to herself, Jamie made sandwiches, packed salads in plastic containers, put cookies and brownies in plastic bags, and placed the boys’ juice boxes into the cooler. The weather was sunny and breezy, but not too hot. Early March in Arizona was perfect for being outdoors. Fields of wildflowers bloomed from the winter rains, and the hills still retained a bit of greenery.

  She set a bottle of wine on the counter, wondering if she should bring it. Maybe not. Ryan would still be on painkillers, and she would have to drive, since he’d totaled his car. Besides, this was a family picnic for the boys and nothing to get romantic about.

  Hopefully, later, when he asked her to dinner …

  The doorbell rang, and Jamie glanced at the clock. Ryan was early. She hadn’t had time to fix her hair and put on a little bit of makeup.

  Wiping her hands with a paper towel, she rushed to the living room to get the door.

  It was already open.

  “Mom, Ryan’s here!” Ben jumped up and down.

  Drew looked up from where he was lining up his cars and trucks. His eyes brightened and he clapped his hands. “Ryan.”

  Her heart did a cartwheel at Drew’s unexpected acceptance to this change in routine, and she ushered Ryan in. “What a sight for sore eyes. You’re looking good.”

  “I can’t believe I lost so much weight.” Ryan grinned, stepping into her embrace. “You’re the one who’s looking good.”

  “You’re early, but we’re almost ready. Drew cleaned up the living room, and I’m packing our lunch.”

  “Hey, buddy, give me five,” Ryan held his hand out to Ben. “You been going to the games?”

  “Bianca’s grandfather takes me and Bianca together,” Ben said. “Her dad hit a home run yesterday.”

  “Rattlers have been winning.” Ryan went over to Drew and held out his hand.

  “Five.” Drew slapped his hand and giggled.

  “That’s right, you gave me five,” Ryan said. “So, how’s my pitcher boy? You ready to show me your cutter?”

  “Cutter. Curve. Slider. Slurve. Fastball. Splitter.” Drew grabbed Ryan’s big hand by the index finger and dragged him to the bathroom.

  “Oh, wow, you have a new chart.” Ryan pointed to the row of baseballs lining the new chart. “Hey, that’s a cutter, curve, slider, slurve, fastball, and a splitter.”

  Jamie couldn’t tell but, once Ryan pointed it out, she noticed that the orientation of the seams were different for each of the stickers. Drew had carefully positioned each ball the way it was on the pitch diagram Ryan had drawn for him.

  “Five.” Drew put his hand up and Ryan slapped it.

  Smiling to herself, Jamie went to her bathroom and brushed her hair. When Drew was with Ryan, he was lively and chatty. Almost unbelievable. But then again, baseball, especially pitching, was now his obsession. He and Ben watched games on TV and memorized statistics for their favorite players. They had even started collecting baseball cards, which meant trips to the store, asking nicely for the cards, and waiting until they were paid for before opening the packages.

  Drew seemed to be coming out of his shell. He’d been asking about Ryan every day, which was unusual, since he usually didn’t notice or miss people. Once out of sight, they were out of mind. But with Ryan, all he had to do was put in the video of a game Ryan pitched, and there he was.

  Jamie powdered her face and put on lipstick. She didn’t want to look too made up, but at the same time, she wanted to look her best. A little bit of mascara highlighted her long eyelashes, and some blush brightened her pale skin.

  “Mom, hurry up,” Ben said. “I can’t find my mitt. Can I bring my bat? Where’s my ball?”

  He tore from her room and went rummaging in his closet, shaking with excitement the way a puppy did when presented with a leash.

  Jamie felt the same way. After so
many years of isolation, doing everything by herself, Ryan was like a beautiful rainbow shining over them and making their world more colorful.

  “Throw me a fastball,” Ryan said, holding the mitt in front of him. He put down two fingers and tapped his left knee, signaling a two-seam fastball.

  His side still ached from the surgery, so instead of squatting, he sat on a beach chair to play catcher. They were little boys, so it was about the right height.

  “Okay, Ryan,” Drew shouted.

  The little boy bent down, peering at the signal. Then he stood up, cupped his hand over the ball inside his glove, hiding the positioning of his fingers from his brother. He narrowed his eyes at the imaginary strike zone, and wound up, doing a perfect imitation of a professional pitcher.

  He kicked up his front leg, and stepped forward, then threw the ball overhead straight down the middle and breaking to the left.

  Ben swung and missed.

  “Strike.” Ryan raised his right thumb before tossing the ball back at Drew.

  Jamie stood at the side taking videos, her face beaming with pride. Drew had made tremendous steps since the first time they met. He’d watched all the pitching videos he’d left for him, and because he wanted to pitch, he was now throwing the ball back and forth with another person, instead of at a stationary target.

  “Throw another fastball,” Ryan shouted, this time signaling with four fingers and a tap to his chest.

  “Hey, you’re not supposed to let me know what he’s going to pitch,” Ben said, swinging his bat and crouching down.

  Ryan chuckled. With kids, it was best to let them throw only fastballs. Their arms were still developing, and throwing pitches like curveballs could be damaging.

  Drew wound up and threw a ball straight down the middle.

  Crack. Ben got a hit that went sailing over Drew’s head. He tore around the bases while Drew chased the ball.

  “This is where we need a dog,” Ryan said to Jamie. “Have the dog fetch the ball.”

  “I don’t think I can handle taking care of a dog.” Jamie put her phone down.

  “I had one growing up,” Ryan said. “He used to sleep with me.”

  “Do you think it’ll help?” Jamie wandered over to the beach chair and rubbed between his shoulder blades. “Drew has trouble sleeping longer than four hours at a time. Sometimes, he wakes up crying, and other times, he wants to play or go out the door.”

  “It’ll definitely help,” Ryan said. He quickly added, “Not that I have experience with what Drew’s going through, but I would imagine it’s something to look into.”

  “What kind of dog do you recommend?”

  “A Labrador retriever.” Ryan caught the ball Drew tossed his way. "I had a chocolate brown one.”

  “His birthday’s coming up, but I would have to train the dog, housebreak him or her, and take it for walks,” Jamie said. “I’m not sure I have the time or energy.”

  Ryan looked over his shoulder and squeezed her hand. “I’ve got plenty of time for the next four to six weeks. Not allowed to lift weights, swing the bat, or pitch until then.”

  “You’d do that for us?” Jamie’s smile warmed his heart and gave his stomach a flutter.

  He stared into the big brown eyes he could so easily get lost in. “That and more.”

  “Hey, Mom, your turn to bat,” Ben said after rounding the bases. He picked up his bat. “See if you can get a hit off Drew.”

  “Okay, batter up.” Jamie took the bat from Ben. “Why don’t you play outfield?”

  “I’d rather have a dog,” Ben said, laughing as he took his mitt and ran to the far side of Drew.

  This time, Ryan didn’t call the pitches out loud. He signaled Drew, and each time, the boy threw perfect strikes.

  “Strike three! You’re out!” Ryan stuck out his thumb and then made an exaggerated karate chop. “And the game goes to Drew and Ben.”

  The two boys jumped up and down and tossed their mitts up in the air.

  As smoothly as he could, despite his pain, Ryan got up from the beach chair and put his arms around Jamie. “You might have struck out with Drew, but you’re never out with me.”

  “I’ve never heard that line before.” Jamie rolled her eyes, but her smile was inviting. She licked her lips and winked at him, giving him the signal he wanted.

  Slanting his face, he grasped the back of her neck, tangling his fingers with her lustrous brown hair, and pressed his lips to hers. She smelled sweet, like a mountain spring, lined with lilacs and honeysuckle.

  He closed his eyes and kissed her, really, truly kissed her like she was already his to love, to cherish, and to care for. He’d never been much of a kisser—it was too intimate, this playing of the lips, tongue, and teeth. But with Jamie, he drank it all in and he felt her response in musical tones, stirring chords in his heart, and igniting pulses of color, vibrant, woven with sunshine and fresh cool water, the clear sky, and warm summer nights.

  Images flashed behind his eyelids. The four of them holding hands, walking along a beach. The two of them sitting side by side on a porch swing. Family gathered around a table, tailgating at a football game, dunking for apples, a Christmas tree, and New Year’s sparklers. Coming home to a bassinet filled with joy. A dog, or two, or three, and the crack of a bat, the scent of fresh cut grass, steaming hotdogs, iced cold lemonade and the kiss cam with Jamie and Ryan, caught kissing while Drew pitched from the mound, and Ben batted cleanup.

  “Wow,” Jamie breathed into his mouth. “That was some kiss.”

  “Yep, some kiss. If you only knew.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  That night, after a full day of activity, Jamie cleaned the kitchen while Ryan sat with Drew to help him go to sleep. Bath time, which was usually a struggle, had gone smoothly as Ryan and Drew raced rubber ducks in the tub. A meltdown was averted with the bug in the rug game, and Jamie couldn’t believe how Ryan always seemed to know exactly what to do.

  He either had some strong magic, or he had experience with autism. Perhaps he’d had a brother or relative with autism.

  Jamie loaded the dishwasher, her ears perked to Ryan’s deep voice as he told Drew to count the little fishes swimming down the river.

  Ben, meanwhile, was waiting in his room for a bedtime story. He’d obediently cleaned his room and had pulled out his favorite story books, lining them up on his dresser.

  All day, the boys talked about the dog Ryan promised them. Jamie wasn’t sure she had the spare energy to add another creature to her care list. If they had a dog, she would have to walk him right about now.

  Her feet were sore, and all she wanted to do was pour a glass of wine and go through her email and check in at the autism support forum. She had a question about dating and whether the change in routine would be harmful to her son.

  So far, Drew seemed to take to Ryan well, but like any honeymoon period, it was sure to end. At any moment, Ryan could accidentally do something that would trigger him, and then he could turn against him and undo all the progress he’d made.

  Jamie sipped wine while scrolling through the messages. Some were encouraging whereas others told about stepfathers who couldn’t understand the child and grew to despise them. Some stepfathers were jealous, competing for attention. Others were concerned about losing their quality of life once they realized autism was forever and that the child may not become independent.

  Many turned against the child, especially an older more belligerent one, and felt that the child abused his or her mother. As men, they wanted to protect the woman they loved, but that meant getting between the autistic child and the mother. Most admitted to being overwhelmed and frustrated, growing to resent the bond between the mother and child which they believed to be dysfunctional.

  It was a no-win situation. One guy ignored his stepson since his offers to help were rebuffed and he felt the mother was a doormat to her child, not understanding the way autism took over a parent’s life. The outlook for a healthy long term step-paren
ting relationship was dim.

  Jamie clicked off the site and sat in the dark, nursing her wine. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. One day at a time. For now, things were going well. For now, she could relax because Andrew was out of town. For now, Ryan was still interested in her and her family.

  She wasn’t asking for long term. Why borrow trouble?

  A footstep sounded behind her and she turned.

  “Hey,” she said, smiling at the sight of Ryan padding across the kitchen.

  “Call me Mr. Sandman.” He grinned like the Cheshire cat who’d swallowed a big fish. “Both boys are asleep.”

  “Sure you didn’t put anything in their drink?” She set her wineglass down and stepped off the bar stool.

  “Warm milk and my boring droning voice did the trick.” He opened his arms and she walked into his embrace.

  “Let’s hope they stay down.” She rested her head against his shoulder. His warmth enveloped her, and tingles jittered over her skin as he rubbed her back.

  “You must be exhausted.” Ryan lifted her chin and stared greedily at her lips, awakening the longing which had lain dormant.

  Slowly, she smiled, and her pulse perked up. “Not for whatever you have in mind.”

  He raised his eyebrows and his eyes sparked with mischief. “I love a woman who can keep going and going.”

  “That’s me, shall we?” She took his hand and squeezed, sliding her hand suggestively around his fingers. If things went sour, she could always blame the wine, couldn’t she?

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbling, and grinned, his eyes darkened with desire. “Lead on, my lady.”

  She wanted him, too, badly. He’d been invading her dreams since the day they met. After her divorce, she’d honestly thought she would never again need another man. With the constant exhaustion and worry dealing with Drew, she had believed herself dead in that area.

  But with Ryan in the room, everything sizzled and her blood pumped vigorously as her heart jumped into overdrive. She was melting with arousal, and he hadn’t even touched her.