Curveball (The Philadelphia Patriots)

by Sykes, V. K.

  Taylor was listening half-heartedly to Ault and Sekulich discussing the merits of center city restaurants when Ryan made his move. Breaking away from a group, he came at her straight and fast. She felt like a character in a movie that suddenly notices a red laser dot in the middle of her chest and realizes there’s no escaping the bullet headed her way.

  Ault noticed him before he reached their group and half-turned to greet him. “Ah, the man of the hour.”

  Ryan managed a half-smile.

  “Nice hit, but I didn’t know you could motor that fast, Locke,” Sekulich said in a slightly mocking tone.

  “I don’t care if he crawls, as long as he scores the damn run,” Ault countered, shooting Sekulich a smoking glare.

  Ryan gave the manager a soft poke on the bicep. “Thanks, skipper. I’m sorry, but would you guys mind if I had a word with Taylor? I can’t stay much longer, I’m afraid.”

  Taylor’s mouth gaped open for a moment before she managed to snap it shut, frowning. What the hell was Ryan up to? He’d only said two words to Ault and Sekulich before asking to cart her off with him. It wasn’t polite, but whatever was on his mind sounded pressing.

  “Not at all,” Ault said quickly. “She’s all yours.”

  If only you knew, Jack.

  When she nodded to Ryan, he fell in behind her as she wove her way through the crowd and out through a set of double doors. Taylor stopped just outside in the foyer, but Ryan beckoned her to follow him and led her to a bay window that looked out over the street. Her nerves were nearly shattered as they finally found themselves face to face. Taylor said, “Not bad for your first game, pal.”

  It sounded so lame.

  Ryan shook his head as if dismissing any small talk. “I’m sorry about pulling you away like that. I know I should have chatted a bit with those guys first, but I was just too damn wired to wait any longer.”

  She lifted one shoulder in a non-committal shrug. “Don’t worry about that.”

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you all day,” he continued. He’d barely stopped frowning since he arrived at the hotel.

  Unsure of how to respond, Taylor settled for a nod. What was going on? First, he played today like a man distracted, now he was wound so tight she thought he might spin off into space if someone gave him a little push.

  He brushed his palm across his forehead, wiping away some glistening sweat. The ballroom was so overheated that she’d felt beads on her brow, too.

  “There’s a problem with Devon,” he said, “and I could really use your advice.”

  Devon. What’s that girl up to now? Instinctively, Taylor reached out a hand and lightly grasped his arm in sympathy. The leather of his jacket was so wonderfully soft and supple. But she snatched her hand back quickly. “We could get a drink and talk about it, if you like.”

  He looked like he could use one. Or another one, to be precise, since he’d downed a quick beer while he was still with the boosters inside.

  Ryan’s lips curved in a weary smile. “Thanks.”

  For a second, Taylor considered how it would look if Dembinski happened to pass by right now. Not good. But she couldn’t let that worry stand in the way of Ryan’s plea for her help. “There’s a lounge on the top floor of the hotel.”

  “I know. I’m staying here, remember?”

  “Right.” Most new players stayed at this hotel, since it was highly-rated and only a short cab ride from the ballpark on the river. Taylor hurried to the bank of elevators and almost frantically stabbed at the buttons. So much for trying to look casual. To her relief, no one familiar emerged from the reception to spot them.

  A tense few moments later, she and Ryan were shown to a quiet table in the corner of the lounge. Taylor glanced out through the nearly floor-to-ceiling windows at the Philly skyline, the skyscrapers all lit up as if electricity was free. In the distance, she spotted the Ben Franklin Bridge to the east, and could just make out the museum district and the lights of Boathouse Row to the west. The great views reminded her again how much she loved the city, and how glad she was to have finally made it home after all those years of apprenticeship in a series of unfamiliar, lonely cities and towns.

  Ryan forced some small talk about the game until their drinks arrived. Then, he quaffed a healthy portion of his Stella and said, “It went like crap with Devon yesterday, Taylor, and I’ve barely been able to think straight since. I was like a freaking basket case out there today, triple or no triple.”

  Taylor almost blurted out that it had showed as she thought again about the two gut-wrenching throws that had telegraphed a serious problem with his arm. But Ryan hadn’t dragged her out of the reception to rehash the game. Apparently he was looking for support or something from her, which she supposed wasn’t surprising since he probably didn’t know anyone else in the city. “Tell me what’s happening,” she said in a sympathetic voice.

  He gave her a grateful nod. “I guess the bullying thing is out of control. At least Dev thinks so. She demanded that I take her out of that school—like right now.” He paused to rub a hand over his heavily stubbled cheek. “Or else.”

  Taylor narrowed her eyes. “Or else what?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe she’ll do something physical about the bullies. She’s capable of it, believe me. Or maybe she’ll run away someplace. Whatever it is, it’ll probably be something dramatic.”

  Or maybe she’ll hurt herself, not the other kids.

  Taylor couldn’t help but think of the distraught teens all over the world who felt compelled to take their lives rather than continue to endure bullying. Were those awful thoughts going through Ryan’s head, too? Could he even give voice to them if they were? It was a nightmare scenario no parent would want to even contemplate.

  She struggled to find the right words. “You’re absolutely right to take it very seriously. Devon’s crying out for help.”

  He blew out an exasperated breath. “I get it, and I’m trying to help her. I told her we need to go to the school authorities and get them to put a stop to that bullshit. That’s what you’re supposed to do when something like this happens, right?”

  Taylor nodded.

  “The problem is she won’t have any part of that,” he continued. “She says she knows the school won’t do anything because the other girls are from connected families, while she’s an outsider and nobody. I don’t completely buy that theory, but once Dev’s made up her mind about something you can’t change it with a stick of dynamite.”

  Taylor didn’t know Devon, of course, but from everything Ryan had told her about his daughter, she sounded like the type of kid that could very well follow through on promises and threats. There seemed to be little point in Ryan continuing to try to convince the girl to let the school handle the problem. “I’m sure the last thing you want to do is to pull her out of school at this point. Still, maybe it’s something to consider? It would be the safest thing to do, wouldn’t it?”

  He obviously didn’t want to hear that, since his shoulders stiffened and a deep frown drew his dark brows close together. “Safest? Maybe. But it would probably blow her whole academic year. Besides, running away from a problem is usually the worst thing you can do.”

  Taylor couldn’t entirely disagree with that, and it was a judgment call that only Ryan could ultimately make. But all her instincts told her she needed to navigate very carefully through these dangerous waters. “Still,” she said, “sometimes it comes down to what’s likely to cause the least damage. Losing a school year is bad, but there are a lot worse outcomes.”

  He considered that for a bit, shifting his beer glass around in his big hands. “Maybe. My gut’s twisted so bad I’m not even sure I can think straight. But if I take her out of school, what am I going to do with her, Taylor? I don’t even have a place to live here yet. And we’re going on the road in a few days. She’s barely fourteen and she’s a mess.” Ryan dropped his gaze as he slowly shook his head. “I just can’t leave her on her own.”


  Taylor understood. “But couldn’t she spend a little time with your mother? Just until you can get things set up here?”

  “Not a chance,” Ryan scoffed. “Devon wouldn’t do it. She can’t stand my mother, and I can’t much blame her after all the crap Mom pulled.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Ryan had told her about his mother’s drinking and financial problems, but hadn’t brought Devon into that picture before.

  His eyes told her he’d probably rather chew his glass than talk about that history. His lips had thinned as his jaw tightened underneath the midnight black bristles. “When Ashley left, I figured I had no choice but to send Dev to Yulee to live with Mom. I didn’t want to, but what was I supposed to do? There was no way I could take care of a seven-year-old girl on my own—not when I was out of town almost half the year and playing almost every night even when I was in Pittsburgh. I knew Mom had her faults—big-time faults—but she loved Devon.”

  “But things went badly?”

  “It was a disaster. My mother has demonstrated an amazing ability to hook up with monumental assholes and deadbeats ever since Dad died. About a month after Devon arrived, one of the worst ones moved in. The two of them would get loaded and have screaming, sometimes knock down fights—with poor Devon just down the hall, pretty much cowering in her room. When I called Dev, I knew something was wrong, but it was months before I finally managed to get her to tell me what was going on. She said the guy even slapped her a couple of times, but she was afraid they would punish her for telling me.”

  Taylor’s stomach suddenly soured as she envisioned the young girl living in that nightmare of a household. “What did your mother have to say?”

  Ryan snorted. “She claimed Dev was exaggerating, of course. She wound up kicking that particular dickhead out, but I figured it was only a matter of time before she hooked up with somebody equally bad, or even worse.” He swallowed hard, his eyes grim. “I thought what if she hooks up with a closet pedophile? That kind of thing happens a lot, right?”

  “Too often,” Taylor managed to grind out. God, no wonder the girl had problems. “How long was she with your mother?”

  “Almost a whole season before I found out what had been going on. When I took her back to Pittsburgh, I told my mother she’d be lucky if she ever saw her granddaughter again. Like I said, I still send her money because I could never see her without enough to live on decently. But we almost never see each other anymore.”

  Taylor couldn’t help wondering if there wasn’t someone else—another relative or a reliable friend—who could take Devon in for a while. Maybe back in Pittsburgh—wouldn’t he have some good friends on the Hornets? But, then again, she figured Ryan must not have anybody or he would have talked about it already, and that conclusion made her heart go out to him even more. After all, he was an only child who’d lost his father at a young age, and had an unreliable, alcoholic mother. Not that Taylor was exactly a poster girl for supportive families, but she knew that if the chips were ever truly down, her mother would move heaven and earth to help her, as would Carter and Samantha. Maybe reluctantly, and even with some of their usual resentment, but they’d be there for her in the end.

  Taylor desperately wanted to comfort him somehow, and if they’d been alone she was sure she couldn’t have stopped herself from putting her arms around him. Every single bit of her wanted to do exactly that, and not just out of sympathy. With each day that passed, she realized more and more how much she hated the thought of having to treat Ryan as just another Patriot player. Though she’d tried for days to shove her feelings for him into some deep internal vault from which they could never escape, her heart was having none of it. It didn’t matter whether he was on the field or in the clubhouse or sitting across from her in a bar, Ryan was a real, whole person, not just a baseball commodity. And someone she found herself caring for a whole lot.

  She knew how difficult it would be for him to have Devon with him during the baseball season. He’d have to either get her in a new boarding school, or find himself a full-time, live-in housekeeper who would take full charge of the girl when he was on the road. Not an insurmountable problem, certainly, but she was sure it would be hard for him to entrust his difficult child to a stranger in a strange city. Still, she already knew without a doubt what she’d do if faced with Ryan’s choices.

  “Ryan, you said you wanted my advice?” she said in a tentative voice.

  He nodded even has his intense gaze searched her face.

  “I can only tell you what I believe I’d do if I were in your shoes,” she continued. “But I can barely imagine what you’re going through, and how difficult this all must be for both of you.”

  He gave her a hint of a smile. “I appreciate that.”

  Taylor shifted uncomfortably in her chair. God, who was she to be dishing out parenting advice? She had no idea what it was like to be a man trying to raise a daughter single-handedly while coping with the demands of major league baseball. And the consequences of making a wrong decision wouldn’t fall on her head. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to take the easy way out.

  “Ryan, if it was my kid, and she stayed absolutely adamant about leaving that school, I’d take her out of there. Whatever I had to do to deal with the consequences, I’d do it. I know it would be hard for you, but my sense is that she really needs you right now.”

  Ryan’s face betrayed some surprise, his brows arching slightly. His gaze held her steady, but he remained silent, his jaw even tighter. It gave her a fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach, almost as if she feared being judged for giving him an answer he didn’t want to hear. She was pretty sure he’d been looking for her to support his position that Devon should tough it out.

  “Taylor, I appreciate your honesty,” he finally said, “but I don’t think I’m ready to do that. Not yet, anyway.” His voice was so low she could barely hear him. It was obvious how much he was struggling with the choices he’d have to make. “I get what you’re saying, believe me. But I can’t get past the fact that if Devon bails now, it could haunt her for years—maybe even her whole life. The way I look at it, she’s managed seven months at Edenwood, so I think she can manage a couple more to salvage her year.”

  Taylor wasn’t about to argue because she could tell he’d made up his mind. If he wanted reinforcement, though, she wasn’t ready to give it to him. There was no way of knowing the seriousness of Devon’s threats, but she figured a parent should always err on the side of caution. Yes, the girl would blow her year and probably thirty or forty grand or so of her father’s money—though she got no sense that Ryan was concerned about that aspect. But going along with Devon’s demand, rightly or wrongly, would prevent any immediate disasters and surely help strengthen the bond between father and daughter.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s your call, but I’m afraid I can’t agree.”

  Ryan gave a little snort and cut his gaze away from her. “And you obviously think I’m an idiot.”

  Had he missed the point? “No,” she said a little sharply. “I’m not judging you in any way. You asked me for my advice and I gave it, but you’re the one who has to live with the consequences.”

  That was a little harsh, Taylor.

  His gaze cut back to her, cool and wary. “That’s one thing we can agree on.” Ryan signaled to the waiter to bring the check.

  Taylor didn’t want him to go. Not yet. As uncomfortable as she’d been about seeing him today, now that they were together she so didn’t want to let him leave. Being with him like this, talking in what felt like an intimate way, had made her realize how badly she’d missed him these past few days.

  “I’m sorry if I was a little sharp,” she said quickly as the waiter acknowledged Ryan’s gesture. “I’m trying to be supportive, but I guess I’m not very good at it. Whatever decision you ultimately make, Ryan, I want you to know I’ll do whatever I can to help you and Devon. You only have to ask.”

  He gave her
a look sparked with interest, but at the same time laced with skepticism. Did no one ever help him? The thought of that made her heart ache.

  She gave a little shrug. “I don’t know…maybe I could help you find an apartment. My sister-in-law is good at that stuff, and she has connections. I could ask her to help, too.”

  There you go, digging yourself in deeper with this guy. What’s the matter with you?

  Taylor refused to answer that inner voice.

  Ryan visibly relaxed, his shoulders lowering to their normal position, and his eyes started to convey a measure of the same warmth that had kept drawing her to him despite her better judgment. “It would be great if you could help with that. I haven’t got a clue about apartments, because it’s not something I’ve had to deal with for a hell of a long time.” He managed a little smile. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “No problem. I’ll get on it first thing tomorrow.” Samantha’s best friend was a top center city real estate agent. “I presume you’ll want to be as close to the ballpark as possible?”

  “Sure,” he said, nodding. “And Taylor?”

  Ryan’s dark gaze and genuine smile mesmerized her, just as they’d done that night at the White Pelican. And look how that ended up.

  That gaze was so intent, so hot, that Taylor couldn’t help wondering if he was about to suggest they head for his room. And damned if a big part of her wished he would do exactly that. “Yes?” she said, her heart thudding against the walls of her chest.

  “Do you need to go back to that dumb reception?”

  There was nothing in his expression that indicated he was in any way joking.

  Oh, God. Now what?

  Her knees suddenly felt rubbery, like she couldn’t trust herself to stand up. “It’s kind of boring,” she said, even though she’d always looked forward to the day she’d be able to finally attend the opening day party. What the heck was wrong with her? Was she entirely nuts?

  But the truth was she had been bored until he showed up.