The Perfect Catch

by Meghan Quinn

  My lip quivers thinking about what just happened. Penn’s actions. His drinking. It’s never stopped. Ever since I’ve known him, his drinking has been the leading factor in his life. It’s what has driven him from day to day. And honestly, I’m surprised when I don’t see a drink in his hand. But something was different about him today. As if he were trying to prove something.

  The way he cornered me against the wall, at a work event, where anyone could’ve seen us—I would like to say that’s not the kind of man Penn is, but he thrives off taking risks like that. It gets his adrenaline pumping. But why now? Why today?

  “Kate, we’re starting the speeches,” Vivian says, looking concerned. “Are you okay?”

  I nod and push off from the wall. “Yeah, fine.” I plaster on a smile that barely reaches my cheeks.

  Audrey’s voice booms over the speakers, thanking everyone for coming tonight. She spends a few seconds going over the purpose of our event and then quickly introduces Walker. A wave of cheers erupts over the crowd, warming my frostbitten interior from the inside out. There’s so much love for this man, if only he’d spend a little more time accepting it.

  And then his voice echoes through the mic, like a crash of boulders falling from the side of a mountain, deep and rough. The sound sends a chill up my spine, igniting goosebumps over my skin. As much as I’d like to say it’s over, that we’re done, my heart has other plans.

  “Are you going to come out front and watch?” Vivian asks, noticing that I haven’t moved away from the wall.

  “Uh, I think I’ll just stand back here for a second.”

  Vivian tilts her head to the side, a furrow in her brow. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Fine.” I motion to the stage. “Go on, I’ll be there in a second.”

  “Okay,” she answers skeptically but thankfully, turns away and heads out to the stage.

  I just need a second to catch my breath, to stop my head from reeling. In the matter of a few minutes, I bounced back and forth between Penn and Walker, and then talking about Roark, and defending Penn, listening to Walker get angry at me . . . I can barely stand from the whiplash of that conversation, and I’m pretty sure it ended with Walker shutting down, tuning me out, and building that wall back up again that I meticulously tore down, one brick at a time.

  “I remember the day my dad came home—” Walker clears his throat. “Uh, he came home with soot all over his face.” A pause. He clears his throat again. “Sorry.”

  Is he . . . crying?

  Unable to stand back here without knowing, I walk behind the curtain to the side stairs and make my way out into the event space, where I can get a good look at Walker. When I round the corner, I’m not surprised to see the tension in his shoulders, the veins in his neck like cords of steel, and the hard set of his jaw.

  “It was hard to see,” he continues, his voice choppy, his grip on the podium causing his knuckles to turn white.

  He rakes his hand through his neatly styled hair and then pulls on the back of his neck as whispers start to fill the silence.

  Come on, Walker. Don’t lose it here, out of all places, don’t lose it here.

  I might be angry at him. I might be irritated. I might be sorry—so many emotions cloud my mind—but I want nothing more than for him to succeed, and right now, my heart is slowly tripping out of my chest with each clearing of his throat and every second that goes by when he doesn’t speak.

  “I, uh . . .” Another pause as his head tilts down.

  Please, Walker, you can do this.

  He shifts the paper on the podium. “He came home . . .” Walker looks up, his eyes finding mine.

  “Just get through a couple more sentences,” I whisper as my stomach twists in knots.

  He mutters something and then shakes his head.

  No. Keep going. Don’t stop now.

  I twist my hands together. He looks up at me one more time and then blows out a long sigh.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

  He turns and walks toward the back of the stage, the crowd’s whispers growing stronger. Thankfully Audrey quickly steps up to the podium and says, “We knew this was going to be hard on Walker tonight, but we’re so grateful he came anyway. Please give him a little love for supporting such a great cause.”

  The crowd claps, but the enthusiasm isn’t there, instead, their applause is confused and lackluster, with a hint of empathy. I don’t have time to examine their reactions. I head to the back but Penn catches me by the wrist.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Let go of me, Penn. Right now.”

  He drops my wrist but then asks again, “Where are you going?”

  “To check on Walker.”

  “He’s fine.”

  “He’s not,” I counter.

  When I take another step toward the stage, he says, “He’s not worth your time, Kate.”

  The way he says my name, with such scorn, causes me to look over my shoulder and take in the warning.

  “Stay away from him. Do you hear me?” His eyes sear into mine, bloodshot and almost slightly crazy.

  Thankfully, we’re off to the side when I respond, “It’s my job to check on the players at events. I suggest you go grab a glass of water and get ready for your speech.”

  Not giving him a chance to reply, I take off toward the back of the stage in search for Walker. He’s a huge man, he should be easy to find.

  I make my way toward the bathrooms in the back, wondering if he fled to them for some privacy, when a strong arm snakes me from behind and pulls me into a dark room.

  I squeak as the door shuts behind me, leaving me in the dark with a large presence standing in front of me.

  I don’t need there to be a light on to know it’s Walker. My body instantly reacts to the woodsy smell of his cologne and the strong hold his hand has on my hip.

  “Walker, what are you—”

  “Don’t say another goddamn word,” he barks out quietly. He moves in closer, pressing me into the wall, his forehead falling to mine. “I can’t do this. Any of this.”

  “Any of what?” I ask, breathless.

  “I can’t be near you and get the job done. It’s too goddamn hard.” His hand snakes up my stomach, to my rib cage. “I’m calling Roark. I’m telling him to make the trade.”

  “What?” I let out a loud gasp. “Walker, don’t do that. This will subside—”

  “It won’t, don’t you see that? This intense energy between us, this won’t subside, it’s only going to grow and double and triple, and before we know it, we won’t even be able to be in the same room anymore.”

  “You can’t be traded, Walker. Everything is here. Dawn is here.”

  He squeezes his eyes tightly and looks down at the ground. “I know. But you’re here, too, and I can’t be fucking near you, not when I can’t have you. I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want to get angry or possessive. But I know there’s no way I can act normal around you. I can’t fucking do it, especially with Penn knowing. He’s going to rub salt in the wound every goddamn day.” He lets out a heavy breath. “I can’t fucking do it.”

  “You can’t be traded,” I say, tears close to falling. My hands go to the lapels of his jacket. “I’m sorry about earlier. I’m sorry about Penn. I’m sorry about everything. Please, just don’t leave.” Please don’t leave me.

  He pushes off the wall, putting space between us. A wave of emptiness hits me all at once as he buttons his suit jacket.

  “Can’t you see, Kate? This isn’t a choice, it’s a necessity.”

  And then he walks out the door, leaving me to crumble to the floor. Because I think my heart just broke into a million pieces. Ripped away from its wall inside my chest.

  He’s leaving.

  He’s leaving because of me. And he’ll leave the shell of the woman I once was behind, because that’s what happens when the man you love takes away your light.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

 
WALKER

  “Leaving so soon?” Penn’s voice cuts through the night air of Navy Pier. The waves of Lake Michigan lap against the solid structure of the pier, which extends out into the vast abyss, and from the outside of the venue, you can hear the faint sound of the fundraiser still moving forward, even without my embarrassing speech, or lack thereof.

  I’m going to have to do some explaining later. That’s for damn sure.

  “What do you want, Cutler?” I ask, feeling mentally and emotionally exhausted. I already handed the valet attendant my card, but I know it’s going to take a while to retrieve my car. It’s probably deep in the mix of the small parking area, especially since all cars were mandatory valet.

  Penn sways to the side as he walks toward me. “Just checking to see why the cat got your tongue up there on stage.” He lifts a beer up to his lips and takes a sip.

  Ignoring him, I turn away, knowing there’s no use talking to him, especially when he’s drunk.

  “Get choked up since you haven’t spoken to your daddy in a while?” he asks, clearly not satisfied with my dismissal. I clench my jaw, not letting him get to me. Or at least attempting to.

  He takes a step closer, his shoes crushing against some loose gravel on the pavement. “I wouldn’t want to talk to you either if you were my son. Although, I will admit, the time you broke the bat over your knee, that was impressive.”

  Eyes straight.

  Wash him out of your mind.

  He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.

  “Kate looked hot tonight, didn’t she? That red dress, her tits all propped up, her legs in those heels. She’s always had a banging body.”

  My teeth dig into my bottom lip as my fists clench at my side.

  Don’t do anything stupid.

  Don’t get into it with him.

  “So . . . how long have you been fucking her?”

  Motherfucker.

  I snap.

  I spin on my heel, grab him by the shirt, and cock my arm back. The fool laughs, not even putting up a goddamn fight.

  “Go ahead,” he says, “hit me. See how far that gets you.”

  I bring him closer, anger pulsing through my veins, the need to lash out so strong, so heavy, that I can feel my will cracking beneath me—crumbling and falling—releasing the pent-up hatred I have for this man.

  “Hit me,” he repeats. “You know you want to.” He lifts his beer to his lips, and instead of hitting him, I smack the bottle out of his hand, sending it crashing into the concrete. Then I release him with a push of my hand and turn away.

  “You’re not worth it,” I mutter, sticking my hands back in my pockets so I’m not tempted to touch him.

  “But Kate was worth it, right? To risk her job. Yours. Was her pussy that good?”

  I spin on my heel, cock back my arm, and before I can stop myself, I punch Penn in the stomach, bending him over in a grunt. But instead of groaning in pain, he laughs again, almost as if this is what he wants, this is what he needs. He wants self-inflicted pain, but instead of doing it himself, he’s pushing all my buttons so I do his dirty work for him.

  Buckled over, he steps back until he hits the side of the building to help hold himself up.

  “You’re too easy, Rockwell. Predictable.”

  “Was there a point to you coming out here?” I ask.

  He places one hand on the building behind him to prop himself up. “Yeah, wanted to see where your head was at.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He stretches to standing but grimaces at the same time. Good. “Was she an easy fuck for you, or was she more?”

  I’m tempted to tell him she was an easy fuck to get him off my back, but I can’t demean what we had like that, and I sure as hell can’t devalue Kate in such a way. Not when she’s so much more than an easy fuck. She buried her soul into my veins and helped pump life through them with her kind, compassionate heart and brutal understanding of who I am as a man.

  Sighing, I look up to the sky and say, “She was more. So much fucking more.”

  Silent for a brief second, Penn asks, “Are you in love with her?”

  I don’t hide it. I don’t even bother to skip over the question. It’s a simple answer. “Yes.”

  “I see.” Penn straightens up, adjusting his tie, and smoothing his hand over his hair. “If that’s the case, then you need to leave her the fuck alone.”

  My brows narrow. “Why’s that?” I ask, curious. I know I have to leave her alone. I have plans on leaving her alone.

  “Because.” He takes another step closer, and this time, he’s only a foot away. From the corner of my eyes, I can see a pair of headlights driving slowly toward us, most likely my car. “If you don’t, I have no problem reporting your relationship.”

  “She’d lose her job.”

  He nods. “She would, so what’s more important to you—your happiness or hers?”

  “Why would you do that if she’s your friend?”

  The lights draw closer. “Because I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you actually care about her. Right now, in this moment, I can see the vengeance in your eyes, the hatred for me. You lost Dawn, and there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do to fuck up someone else’s world.” He rubs his palms together. “Kate is part of my world, and I wouldn’t put it past you to fuck it up.”

  I stick my hands in my pants pockets, keeping them solidly in place. I hate him. I hate this sick fuck so fucking much. He’d throw his best friend—the friend who just defended him—under the bus. For what? For fucking what? “That’s the difference between us, you fucking dick. I don’t seek revenge. I don’t play with people’s livelihoods. I’m loyal. I’m honorable.” It’s why I’m backing away and giving up the one woman I’ve ever loved. “I’m asking to be traded.”

  This time, it’s Penn’s turn to be shocked. “You’re what?” he asks as my car pulls up to the curb.

  From my pocket, I pull out a fifty and give it to the attendant when he hands me my key fob. He gives me a quick nod and a thank you and takes off toward the valet station.

  Staring down at the fob in my hands, I say, “There’s an opportunity for me to leave.” I look at him. “And I’m taking it.”

  “Just like that?”

  I walk around to the driver’s side door and say, “Yup, just like that.”

  Without another word, I get in my car, start it, turn on the lights, and dial up Roark as I pull away, leaving Penn with a confused look on his face.

  It takes two rings before Roark answers.

  “This better be good,” he says. “It’s fookin’ late and me girl is looking fine.”

  “Make the trade.”

  “What?” Roark asks.

  “I want out. Make the trade. Send me to Phoenix.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  I drive down the pier, headed toward the city. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

  Chapter Sixty

  KATE

  Two months later . . .

  “Kate, can I see you in my office?” Audrey asks, standing outside my door.

  “Of course. Can I quickly finish up this email?”

  “Sure. Come see me when you’re done.”

  “Thanks,” I say with a smile. When she takes off down the hall, I turn back to my computer and type out a response to Vivian, who I’ve been messaging all morning.

  Kate: Oh my God, she just asked me to her office.

  Vivian: Shit, really?

  Kate: I feel like I’m going to puke.

  Vivian: Don’t be nervous. I’m sure it’s going to be fine.

  Kate: Vivian . . . I spilled coffee all over Coach Hopkins’s crotch at a meet-and-greet, burned his skin, and then swore up a storm in front of a class of fourth graders.

  Vivian: We all make mistakes.

  Kate: That was a huge mistake.

  Vivian: You won’t be fired.

  Kate: I heard he has blisters on his legs from the hot liquid.r />
  Vivian: That’s a rumor, we don’t have evidence. Maybe ask Coach Hopkins to see his crotch.

  Kate: Are you trying to get me fired?

  Vivian: You’ll be fine. I promise.

  Kate: If not, it was great working with you. I appreciate how you bring in a new breakfast item for us to share every Friday. Be nice to the new hire.

  Vivian: Just GO!

  I pick up my water bottle, take a large sip, and then slip off the slippers I caved and purchased and slip on my heels. When I stand, I right my skirt, make sure my blouse is tucked in, and then with my shoulders held back, I head toward Audrey’s office.

  What a nightmare yesterday was.

  I was completely off my game. Hell, I’ve been off my game since the Firefighters Ball.

  I haven’t spoken to Penn since then, despite his repeated phone calls and cookie baskets he sent to my apartment. And my silence is taking a toll on the both of us, because he hasn’t been able to pitch worth shit lately and is in one of the biggest slumps of his life. And I haven’t been able to get my head on straight.

  It doesn’t help that I haven’t seen or heard from Walker either, but we won’t get into that dark subject of my life.

  To sum it all up, I’ve sucked at my job. Yesterday, I tripped in my heels, poured coffee over the Bobbies manager’s crotch, and introduced some colorful new words to a bunch of elementary-aged children.

  Needless to say, I’m pretty sure I know what Audrey is going to talk to me about, and I’m mentally preparing myself to pack a box when we’re done.

  When I reach her office, the door is open, but I still knock. “Hey, can I come in?”

  “Of course. Shut the door.”

  Yup, the old shut the door request. This is not good.

  Once I take a seat, I cross my legs at my ankles and sit up tall, proud, despite the less-than-stellar feelings I have about myself.

  Audrey shifts in her chair and before she can say anything, I start blurting out apologies. “I’m so sorry about yesterday. My heel got caught in the rug, I can’t believe I burned Coach Hopkins’s penis . . . was it his penis? Either way, his crotch area.” I motion at my crotch with my hand. “I burned it and that’s very unlike me. I don’t go around looking to burn crotches, especially with piping-hot coffee. I heard there were burns, did he burn? Is that a private question? Should I get him a fruit basket or something? Although receiving a banana might be a tad below the belt, if you know what I mean. Maybe some popcorn? I’m not sure what the protocol for a burnt crotch is. Do you know?”