Finding Us (True Love) (Volume 2)

by Harper Bentley

  I looked up from the phone to see El glaring back at me. “Scroll over,” she said.

  I moved my finger to the left and a screenshot of a text conversation showed up. As I looked at it, I was finding this all pretty damned hard to believe. Apparently, Alessandra and I had texted at some point (not) making plans to have a sleepover, telling each other how much we wanted the other.

  I looked at El again. “Scroll one more time.”

  This time when the screenshot came up, I barked out a laugh. It was Alessandra texting that she loved me, and me texting back “Forever and a day, babe.”

  I looked up and couldn’t keep my laughter in. “You really believe this?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? How much proof do I need? That proves right there you’ve been fucking her from the start. That first one’s dated a while back.”

  “Alessandra’s crazy. You know that.”

  I could see her chest starting to move up and down rapidly. Oh, God, she was trying not to cry. “Y-you know when that picture was taken? When that second text was sent? Right after we talked. You said the same exact thing to me then turned right around and said it to her. Are you kidding me right now?” Her voice had gradually gotten louder as she’d gone on.

  I blew out a breath. “Can we sit?” I motioned with my hand to the couch, but she went to sit in the chair I’d gotten her, tucking a leg underneath her.

  “I guess this is where you try to convince me that none of this is real. That Alessandra masterminded this little scheme to break us up when she couldn’t even mastermind how to make a fucking sandwich!”

  I laughed again. This whole thing was just insane and El couldn’t see it. “I’m asking you to believe me, El. I can explain everything.”

  She eyed me skeptically. “You know, I’ve just about had it with all the explaining you keep doing.”

  And that’s when I got pissed and stood up again. “You’ve just about had it? What about me? Every time I turn around, you’re accusing me of something else! Jesus fuck! I’ve never apologized so much in my goddamned life than I have with you! I’m so fucking scared of doing or saying anything anymore, afraid it’ll get back to you, and you’ll just interpret it as I’m fucking Alessandra!”

  “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” She’d stood now too, hands on her hips.

  Well, that knocked the wind out of my sails. I narrowed my eyes at her. “Meaning?”

  She took a deep breath and blew it out. “Meaning, we’re done.”

  I jerked my head back in shock. “Are you fucking kidding?”

  “No,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears as she looked at me.

  “You’re really doing this? After everything we’ve gone through to get us back, you’re really gonna do this?”

  “I don’t see any other way. It seems like every week there’s something else that comes up with her. If the situation was reversed and I kept being connected to a guy, wouldn’t you start to think there might be some truth to it?”

  “No. Because I trust you. I believe in you. I believe in us. But apparently you don’t feel the same.”

  She stared at me as a tear rolled down her face.

  “Think about what you’re doing here, El. Think long and hard.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  She wiped the tear off her face. “I have.” She swallowed roughly.

  “You don’t believe me. I can’t believe you don’t believe me.” I shook my head, hands now on my hips as I looked down at the floor.

  She sighed. “It’s too much, Jag.”

  I looked at her, so fucking hurt that she didn’t believe me. That she didn’t trust me. So I did the only thing I knew to do. I nodded a couple times then turned and walked out her door.

  I ended up at Tyler’s and got so wasted that I blacked the fuck out. He told me the next day that I’d punched a hole in his wall. Explained my throbbing hand. Jesus. And that was a dumbass move. Pitchers didn’t do stupid shit like that since we made a living with our hands and arms. I must’ve really been out of it because whenever I needed to punch something, I always led with my left. Christ. I told him I’d pay for the damages, but he laughed and said he’d hit the same spot plenty of times and he’d just call his sheetrock guy and get it fixed again. He added that all I did before passing out was sit on the couch staring straight ahead mumbling, “She doesn’t believe me. Fuck her then. Fuck that fucking bitch.”

  Nicely said, Jag, I thought.

  Later that day, I called my sister and told her that she and Chad should use my reservations at the resort I’d reserved for El and me. She squealed saying that Chad’s rotation at the firehouse worked out perfectly, that he was off for the next three days and they’d take them.

  Good. Took care of that. Now to get a flight out as soon as I could.

  After landing in LA that evening, I grabbed my luggage, threw it into the trunk and took off for Baxter’s.

  “Hey, Jag! Come on in,” Amanda said as she answered the door, letting me in and giving me a quick hug. “You okay?”

  I knew I looked like hell. I hadn’t showered, hadn’t shaved, my hair was probably sticking out everywhere, and I knew my eyes were bloodshot because I’d been drinking the entire flight back.

  Yeah, yeah. I drove my car to their place. I know it was dumb. I’m an idiot. Happy?

  “Gordon! Jag’s here!” Amanda yelled, making me cringe at her loud voice. “Sorry. Would you, uh, like some coffee?” She rubbed a hand over my back in a motherly way.

  “Sure, if it’s not too much trouble,” I replied.

  “Not at all. Have a seat. Gordon’ll be right in, I’m sure. He’s been trying to fix the weed eater for two hours now.” She grinned and rolled her eyes making me snort.

  “Goddamned, son of a fucking cunt bastard piece of shit!” Baxter growled as he came through the patio doors.

  “Gordon!” Amanda scolded. “Watch your mouth!”

  “Aw, the kids are asleep. Not like they haven’t heard any of those words before anyway.” He looked down at the weed eater he still held in his hand then turned, opened the patio door and chunked it out into the yard. “Fucking piece of cocksucking monkey shit!” He slammed the door then came over to the bar where I sat, holding out his hand for me to shake. “Hey, Jag. What’s up?” he said with a chuckle then abruptly stopped as he narrowed his eyes at me just then getting a good look.

  Amanda set the cup of coffee in front of me and I thanked her then took a drink. Holy fuck. That was the nastiest cup of coffee I’d ever had. I tried not to screw up my face at the bitterness, but I couldn’t help it.

  Baxter laughed. “Amanda can’t make coffee for shit.” She shot him a look. “Baby, you know it’s true.”

  She chuckled. “I know. But at least I tried.” She looked at me. “Sorry, Jag. I thought maybe in your condition you’d just get the effects of the caffeine and wouldn’t be able to taste too much of it.”

  She grabbed my mug and poured it out in the sink then went to the cabinet, getting out three tumblers. Baxter walked over to the cabinet where she stood and pulled the new bottle of bourbon off the shelf that was too high for her to reach. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she said.

  He leaned down and kissed her. “No problem, babe.”

  She walked over and set the glasses on the bar and Bax poured the liquor in them. Then we all downed it.

  “Ah. That’s some good shit,” Bax said. “Jim Beam Black. Jim’s been my buddy for a long time.”

  Amanda laughed, hitting him on the shoulder. “You say that every time you drink this.”

  “And I mean it every damned time,” he said with a grin, pouring us more. He held his glass up for a toast and Amanda and I did the same. “Here’s to good friends.” We all clinked our glasses together and Bax and I downed our liquor while Amanda sipped on this second glass. “So, what happened?”

  I sighed, staring at my glass, watching as he poured me another shot. “She fucking broke up with me.”

  “Wha
t? I thought things were going so well!” Amanda said, looking shocked.

  I chuckled bleakly. “I did too. But I went and fucked things up again.” I lifted my glass, looking at the contents before downing it.

  Amanda pulled a barstool up and sat across from me as Bax did the same. “Now, start at the beginning,” she said, drinking what was left in her glass.

  “Babe, gotta be careful. You know how you get hangovers in the morning,” Bax said, leaning over and kissing the side of her head.

  “I know. This is my last one. It’s just nice to cut loose a little,” she said, looking up at him with a grin.

  “Thatta girl.” He smiled at her as he brushed a piece of hair off her face.

  God, if they didn’t stop I was going to get choked up. And I hadn’t cried in over twenty years.

  Amanda looked at me again, reaching a hand over and patting mine. “Tell us everything.”

  So I did.

  When I finished, they both looked at me in disbelief.

  “What a fucking cunt,” Amanda said making Bax and me snort. “Alessandra, not Ellen,” she added.

  Bax raised an eyebrow and I knew what he was thinking, but he didn’t say it out loud which made me snort again.

  “The only thing I can think to do is have Alessandra admit to El what she did, but what’d be the point?” I said.

  They both nodded in understanding not knowing what else to say. Then Amanda sat up straight. “You just give it some time to settle down, okay? She’ll come around and then you can set everything straight, okay?”

  It was my turn to nod, but I didn’t mean it. It was hopeless.

  “We’ve got your back, Jag. Anything you need, okay?” She smiled at me as she swayed a little on her barstool. “Oh, no. I think I’m drunk.” She looked at Baxter warily as he snorted. “Well, I’d better go sleep this off. Chloe’ll be up at six. Yuck,” she said, hopping down from her stool and almost falling. Baxter grabbed her just before her ass hit the floor.

  “Whoa, there, little lady,” he said. “I’ll walk you up. Be right back,” he said to me with a chuckle.

  “’Night, Jag,” she said with a little wave and a drunken smile. “’S’all gonna work out. Trust me.”

  When Bax came back down, we went out to his garage where he’d been refurbishing an old Indian motorcycle. He tinkered on it while we talked and drank what was left of the bottle.

  “Think she’ll really come back?” I asked.

  He looked at me from where he squatted looking at the fuel valve. “Honestly?”

  Damn. I gulped loudly, afraid of what he had to say. I nodded.

  “Yeah. I do.” He stood and walked around the bike, checking out the clutch. “You’re both so young. And you’ve had a lot of shit piled on you lately. That model chick needs to go down, though. She can’t get away with what she’s done.”

  I agreed then fell off the stool I’d been sitting on.

  “You’re staying here. You can’t drive in your condition,” he said with a laugh as he helped me up then we went back inside the house.

  That was all right by me. I didn’t want to go back to my condo chancing running into Alessandra in my condition because if I’d punched a hole in Tyler’s wall during a black out, no telling what I could do to her if that happened.

  “Guest room’s the third door on the left, this floor. Bathroom’s across the hall. See you in the morning.” He weaved a little as he walked up the stairs, which made me snicker only until I did the same as I tried making it to the guest room. Once inside, I flopped on the bed and was out like a light.

  I squinted one eye open when I heard a strange noise. I then saw it was Baxter’s son Spencer standing by the side of the bed looking down at me.

  “Psssttt!” He made the sound with his mouth.

  I put my right forearm over my eyes trying to keep the light out, my head pounding from the half bottle of bourbon I’d drunk the night before, and noticed a sharp pain in my shoulder when I’d lifted my arm. Just fucking great. All I needed was to be put on the DL and have to go through rehab because I’d gotten smashed then smashed a wall. I was a serious dumbass.

  “Hey, Spence. What’s up, buddy?” I mumbled.

  “Hey, Jag!” he yelled making me cringe. “Did you and Daddy have a sweepova?”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, I guess we did.”

  “Yours are dif’went than mine. My fwiends and I always sweep out in the family woom on the fwoor ‘cause we been watchin’ movies all night. Is that what you and Daddy did? Watch movies?”

  “Yeah, that’s what we did.”

  He hopped up onto the bed, making it bounce and me want to ball up into myself so I didn’t puke. “What movies did you watch? Did you watch ‘Spicable Me? That’s my favowite!” He bounced and wiggled on the bed until I sat up. “Wow! Are you sick? You don’t wook vewy good.”

  “Yeah, I don’t feel very well, but I’ll be okay,” I assured him, which seemed to satisfy him.

  “’Kay! I’ll go tell Mommy you’re awake and she can make you some eggs and bacon and pancakes! But not oatmeal. It’s all mushy and swimy but Daddy says it’s good for me. Yuck!” He ran out of the room and I heard him yelling to Amanda that his dad and I had had a sleepover and that I was coming out to eat now.

  I used the bathroom and cleaned myself up as best I could then headed to the kitchen where Amanda was busy making pancakes for everyone. Baxter sat at the table by Chloe who was in a highchair, and he looked about how I felt.

  “’Mornin’,” I offered coming into the dining area.

  “Jag, sit down and have some breakfast,” Amanda said with a smile.

  “No, it’s okay. Thank you, though. I need to get home.”

  Bax stood up with a wince. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Amanda came over and hugged me. “It’s gonna be okay, Jag. Promise.” She squeezed my neck before pulling back. “If you need anything, you know where we are.” She smiled up at me then went back to cooking.

  Bax and I went outside to see that I’d done a pretty shitty job of parking the night before.

  “Nice,” he murmured.

  “Better than you when you’re sober,” I muttered back making him laugh.

  “Hey, man, seriously, you need anything, we’re here for you. I mean it.”

  “Thanks, Bax. I appreciate all you guys have done for me. Really. Thanks,” I said, shaking his hand before getting in my Camaro and driving home, hoping I’d run into Alessandra when I got there so I could give her a piece of my mind. God knew that skull of hers could fit it, dumb bitch.

  Chapter 18

  I watched the All-Star Game on TV that night cheering on Logan who’d been selected by Coach to play starting catcher. Logan had been psyched, especially since he’d flown in his new girlfriend, Rachel, the first grade teacher from Albany, to watch. That’s what he called her any time he talked about her, Rachel-the-first-grade-teacher-from-Albany, which was kind of hilarious. I sat watching, yelling out, “Thatta boy!” when he caught a popup and got the third out for his team. Good for him.

  After the game, I went to bed, lying there wondering what El was doing. How she was feeling. I almost called her, but that wasn’t my move. She’d been the one to end things, so I’d have to let her come to me first. Amanda had assured me that she would eventually; I just had to give her time.

  And didn’t time just suck balls.

  Since I had the next day off, I surfed in the morning then went to the clubhouse to have one of the trainers check out my shoulder. He stretched it out then used ultrasound and an electric muscle stimulator on it, asking me every five seconds how it felt, it seemed, then he had me lift light weights with it. I did the same the next day, and it felt pretty good, much better than it had the morning I’d woken up at Bax’s. I was confident that I hadn’t done any serious damage, thank God. After leaving the clubhouse both nights, I went home, showered, ate dinner and went to bed, exhausted.

  Mom called the second night as I was eating
telling me that El’s mom had called her and told her we’d broken up. I didn’t feel like talking about it, and Mom understood, so we chatted about her garden and how many tomatoes she’d picked then she let me talk to Dad.

  “Gotta new contract,” he said answering the phone.

  “Yeah? What is it?”

  “Now, don’t laugh. I know you’re gonna laugh. But just bear with me here,” he cautioned. God, I couldn’t imagine what kind of contract he was talking about. Was it like a contract killing for the Mafia? As secretive as he was being, I let my imagination run wild.

  “Okay, bearing here.”

  “Ready?”

  “Dad…”

  “It’s a new rap artist.”

  I burst out laughing. “Nice, Dad. Is your new name gonna be Master Royce now? MC Royce? You’re not gonna start wearing your ball cap sideways, are you?”

  He laughed with me, agreeing that he thought rap was ridiculous, but he said the kid had some good lyrics going for him, so he thought he’d take him under his wing. “Maybe I can convince him into do doing some metal, or at least adding it to a track,” he said still chuckling.

  We talked a bit more, and he told me to keep my chin up before hanging up.

  Logan came in that night and called wanting me to come over and meet his girlfriend. I told him I’d stop by for a bit, not really that thrilled to hang out with the lovebirds for too long. But I sucked it up and went, and after meeting her, I actually really liked her. She was just as Logan had said, pretty sassy, which was perfect for him. She kept him on his toes, which was just what he needed.

  I stayed for a half hour before going home, and once there, sat and watched SportCenter for a bit then headed to bed. Ah, the life of a bachelor… fucking bites.

  We got back into the swing of things come Friday, thank God. We opened up at home with the Padres and I pitched the first game, getting the win. My shoulder had felt great, so I was really happy about that, having been worried that I’d feel some remnant of my drunken decision to wail on Tyler’s wall.