by Cari Quinn
“Yes.” A whisper was all she could get out; her throat was so tight.
“That doesn’t mean you can risk your safety. Freedom must look awfully alluring when you’ve been cooped up in a small town all your life. I get that.”
“You would, since you left too.”
“Yeah. I did. I didn’t want to come back either.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his head, his weariness evident in every strained movement. “Look, I don’t want to clip your wings. You’re old enough to live your life the way you need to. I respect that. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to keep your secret from my sister or look the other way when I know you could get hurt. That’s not me. If your mother were around, she’d skin my ass if I didn’t step in.”
“There’s nothing for you to do. You said it yourself. This is my life, my decision.” She hated that she was practically pleading, but she had to fight for her dreams. She’d be damned—full curse intended in this case—if she let him take them away under the guise of friendship. “My next show is scheduled in two weeks in a much safer area of Brooklyn. I’ve been there a million times and nothing will happen, I promise.”
He pulled to a stop in front of the small house she’d lived in since she was ten, next door to the family home where Cass still lived. It was a way they each had hung onto slices of their childhood even when the world had been spinning wildly out of control. Silly, maybe. Childish probably. She didn’t care.
Sometimes comfort and security came in odd forms, and she and Cass had snatched onto theirs with both hands.
“Nothing will happen,” Chase agreed, staring straight ahead while his truck idled at the curb. She was afraid to move and startle him out of the semi-trance he’d dropped into. She could almost hear the but hanging in the air.
When she didn’t reply, he swung his gaze to hers. “You’ll be safe, all right, because I’m going to be there too.” Her lips parted on a wheeze of breath. “If you intend on playing bigger venues and keeping your whereabouts a secret from those who love you, you need personal security. And right now I’m the only man I trust you with.”
He slammed out of the vehicle before she managed to shut her mouth.
Chapter Four
Chase stewed about the situation throughout the weekend and into the following week. It wasn’t as if he had a ton of other things on his plate at the moment, other than going to the occasional AA meeting. Once in a while—not often enough lately—he even went inside rather than returning to his truck. He hadn’t found the right group in the city yet, that was all. Then there were the oh-so-thrilling doctors’ visits and PT and lots of hours spent doing research on his condition online. He didn’t want to have surgery, but more and more it looked like he’d have no choice.
There were no guarantees. Yes, the Tommy John operation could fix him up and get him back on the field, assuming some team would be willing to take him on after months of rehabilitation. His already damaged reputation didn’t make him a prime candidate in many teams’ eyes, and despite how en vogue the Tommy John surgery was in some circles nowadays, the fact was he’d be different afterward. Better, probably? Yes. But the surgery could also leave him unable to ever pitch again. The odds of that were extremely low, but it could happen. It had happened to a guy he knew. And then what? He’d live off his money for a while, abstaining from everything that made life fun until he finally keeled over from sheer boredom?
Hell no. He needed to do something else while he considered his options. Which led him right back to Summer.
She needed a bodyguard. He had the muscle and the street smarts to protect her. He’d been circling around the idea of an agency for long enough that he knew he couldn’t do it on his own. At first, sure. But he didn’t have a head for numbers and he wasn’t some admin-type. He needed a partner, someone who could take on clients with him and might even know something about running a business.
Someone like Jax Wilder.
He hadn’t seen Jax in years. They’d run into each other at the occasional press junket but never spoke. In the early days after they’d both been drafted, Chase had gone out of his way to avoid his former best friend. Jealousy was a bitter brew—though back then, he’d refused to see his hot, relentless fury towards Jax as envy—and it had taken him a long time to put down the bottle. Now that he was out of the MLB himself, maybe for good, he’d decided to stop dredging up the past.
Plus he needed the guy, though he’d never tell Jax that.
Chase sat back in his booth at Slocum’s Diner and stared at the mustard-splattered menu in front of him. His stomach growled, sick of waiting for him to make up his mind. He’d been thinking way too much lately and it was starting to piss him off. He wanted a drink. He wanted a woman underneath him. Or over, he wasn’t fussy.
God, he wanted his old life back.
The bell over the door chimed and he jerked up his head, tearing his gaze from the meatloaf special to lock eyes with his former nemesis. Jax had also been the closest friend he’d ever had. Would ever have.
Jax strode over to the booth and tugged off his scarf, tossing it on the cracked red pleather seat. Then he did the same with his bomber jacket before extending his fist to Chase for a knuckle bump. He didn’t speak, but his terse expression said it all. Despite Chase having been the one to call him, Jax expected his old buddy to shut him down.
Not happening. Not this time.
Chase rose halfway out of the seat, fist extended, only to be hauled into a bear hug that nearly launched him over the table. They were evenly matched in height and weight, but Jax had taken Chase completely off-guard. He couldn’t help laughing as he thumped his old friend on the back. “Hey, man,” Chase said, his throat surprisingly tight.
“Dude, it’s so good to see you. Here, of all places.” Jax stepped back and gestured. Black tattoos covered his knuckles on his right hand. His fingers looked like a slot machine that didn’t have a hope of coming up with a matching row. “Same ol’ booths. Same ol’ pictures on the walls.” Both men glanced around at the ancient framed pictures of Elvis and Jack Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. that covered the yellowed daisy wallpaper. “It’s like a damn blast from the past.”
Chase couldn’t help grinning. “Still have the same meatloaf too.”
Jax’s hazel eyes gleamed while he fingered Chase’s menu. “No shit? Does it still have a whole can’s worth of sauce?”
“Don’t know about that part.” Chase would’ve said more but their waitress took that moment to appear, her smile firmly in place to greet Jax.
“Why, hello there. Welcome to Slocum’s.” She thrust a menu at Jax before he had a chance to sit and rattled off the day’s specials, ending with the meatloaf.
“I’ll take a Coke and a meatloaf, please,” Jax said, returning the menu with a wink. “And I like it extra saucy, so don’t skimp, okay, darlin’?”
She tucked her pencil behind her ear. “I never get any complaints.” With a wink of her own, she turned to Chase. “And you? What’ll it be?”
“Meatloaf for me too.” And a clue how to flirt so effortlessly, though he wouldn’t get that information from the waitress. It hadn’t been that long ago that he’d been able to charm the panties out from under a woman’s skirt before she had a chance to unzip. Now everything felt stilted and unnatural. Guess he’d lost his taste for the game in a lot of ways. “And a lemonade, if you would.”
“Sure thing, sugar.” She sashayed off.
“Lemonade? Guess the rumors are true then.”
Chase glanced at Jax and unrolled his silverware to give himself something to do. “What rumors are those?”
“That you’re dry as dust. Good for you, man. I never believed you were in trouble like they said, but still, it’s not a bad thing, considering—” Jax cleared his throat, apparently catching himself. “Your family history and all.”
Sometimes it was great to reconnect with those who’d known you since you were a boy. And sometimes, it was a fucking pisser. “Yeah, w
ell, my dad’s doing better too.” He toasted Jax with the lemonade the waitress set in front of him. “Cheers.”
Once the waitress had dropped off Jax’s drink and left the table, Jax leaned forward. His brows scrunched tight over eyes way too earnest to have seen and done all that Chase knew he had. Somehow Jax always managed to play the angel role while having the soul of a devil. “Let’s lay it all on the line. I know you’re a free agent now. You want me to use my connections, see if I can get you the inside scoop on where your best bet is?”
Chase only gaped, but Jax wasn’t finished yet. Use his connections? What the hell? He had an agent for that. Talk about an overinflated ego. “Thing is, I’d love to help you if I could. But I can’t.” Jax tore the wrapper off his straw. “I’m out of the game too.”
“You really think a lot of yourself, don’t you? How stupid of me to believe I could possibly get back into ball without you and your fancy ass friends pulling stri—” Chase broke off. “What? What do you mean you’re out of the game?”
The news wasn’t totally out of left field. He’d heard rumblings about Jax stepping away while he was still on top, something that was virtually unheard of in the major league. That was one of the reasons he’d approached him about the bodyguard agency. But he’d figured Jax walking away for good was a year away, maybe more. Until then, he’d planned on going solo with the agency if he didn’t get back into ball himself, and that was still a strong option.
Moderately strong.
Jax shrugged and drained half his soda. “It’s not the same anymore, man. I’ve been quietly working my way toward this for years. Last season was my final one.” He jerked a shoulder. “I got into ball because it was fun. It hasn’t been that for a long time. I had to get out.”
Chase rubbed a line of condensation off his lemonade. They kept the diner hotter than a sweat lodge, so it wasn’t too surprising. “That’s what it’s all about for you? Fun?”
“Not entirely, no, but if I’m going to enjoy it as much as digging a ditch, then why shouldn’t I go dig that ditch? Yeah, the perks are better. The money, the lifestyle.” Jax rotated his bulky brown watch around his wrist. Nothing flashy for him. From what Chase had heard and seen, Jax’s particular charm with the all-too-willing females was his low-maintenance, “aw, shucks” attitude, though he’d grown up as a Yankee. “The attention.”
“The pussy,” Chase said flatly, unsurprised that Jax merely shrugged again.
“Not sure that’s true. I guess I’m not into that as much as I once was, you know?”
Chase cocked a brow. “You switching teams?”
“Nah. I just want…” Jax blew out a breath, shook his head. “Something more.” Before Chase could begin dismantling that ridiculous idea, Jax’s gaze sharpened on his face. “So, how’s your sister?”
Chase leaned back and linked his fingers over his stomach. He didn’t much appreciate the segue in conversational topics, not when he wondered why Jax had picked that particular moment to mention Cass. “She’s fine. Busy.”
“Drove by Triple Scoop on my way here. Almost stopped in to say hello, then thought better of it.”
“Why? You and Cass were always friends.”
“Like we were?”
Chase said nothing, waiting while Jax scraped a hand over his head, barely ruffling the short dark hair cropped close to his skull. “Last time I was home, some stuff went down between her and me.”
Chase kicked out his feet, narrowly missing Jax’s legs. “Such as?”
“Nothing major.” Jax adjusted his watch, fiddled with his fork and generally avoided Chase’s narrowed gaze. “We got into it a bit, like you guys used to get into it.”
Considering Jax had never spoken a cross word to Cass in Chase’s presence, he had trouble believing that. Something was up. “Somehow I doubt it. What happened?”
“Seriously, it’s no big deal. You know how women get overly emotional about stuff.”
“Stuff like what? Cass would have zero reason to be overly emotional over a guy she hasn’t seen in forever. Tell me what went down. Now.” And if Jax veered in the direction Chase didn’t want to consider, he’d rescind his job offer before he’d even made it.
His baby sister didn’t need Jax Wilder-sized problems in her life. He wasn’t the worst the MLB had to offer, far from it, but the bottom line was that Jax wasn’t known for sticking with one woman much longer than Chase himself. Speeches about saving-the-pussies aside.
Cass couldn’t just jump into relationships. She had to be more careful than that. And if Jax had anything to do with why Cass had seemed quieter than usual the last few months, he’d use his ex-best friend’s nuts for earwarmers.
Screw the bodyguard thing. Screw trying to make amends with his past. His sister’s wellbeing trumped everything.
“Thanks for the reminder that I haven’t been part of her life in forever.” Jax gave him a thin-lipped smile. “I forgot for a minute there.”
Chase gripped the hem of his shirt, pulling it tight. “Look, man—”
The waitress reappeared with their meatloaf. They must’ve kept it on standby. Since his stomach was roaring now, not growling, he didn’t much care. Throw some sauce on it and he’d be good to go.
“Here you boys go. Gotta make sure you stay nice and strong.” She pinched Jax’s biceps and grinned at his wink. The guy was going to develop a twitch, if he hadn’t already.
The minute she’d gone, Chase seized the pepper and started a brutal assault on his slab of meatloaf. He wasn’t going to let one brief flare of well-deserved guilt distract him from his interrogation. “I asked you a question,” he said, voice low. “What exactly went on between you and my sister? And when?”
“Damn, you’re suspicious enough to be a cop. Ever consider that line of work? Think you’d be a natural.” Jax cut into his own meatloaf, sampled. Apparently declaring it more friend than foe, he continued to eat at a rate of speed that would impress a linebacker. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I didn’t sleep with your sister, man. We go way back. For fuck’s sake, she blackened my eye when we were kids.”
Chase had to laugh. “You’re the dumbass who dared her to punch you in the face on the count of three.”
“Yeah, well, I thought she’d hesitate. Not so much.” Jax shook his head, smiling. No, not smiling. Full-on grinning like it was Christmas or something.
Chase’s amusement dimmed. It was a good memory, even a great one. But something smelled off at their table, and it wasn’t the insta-ready meatloaf with chunky sauce. “So then what? What happened with you and her?”
Jax finished off his soda, then leaned back and threw an elbow over the back of the booth. It barely accommodated the two of them, especially considering the volume of food they were inhaling. “Last summer, my mama got sick.”
“Yeah, I heard.”
He’d meant to come back and see Mrs. Wilder, a woman who’d been closer to him than his own ma growing up. But he’d balked, grateful for the routine of ball and babes that gave him an excuse. It wasn’t easy crossing back over a threshold you’d walked over willingly, sure you’d never want—or need—to come back. At the root of it, he’d been ashamed. And maybe even a little afraid. He didn’t want to unintentionally bring up the past and make things worse for her.
Or himself.
She’d tried to talk to Chase after he and Jax had fallen out, but Chase hadn’t wanted to listen. Still didn’t, truth be told. He’d loved being a part of the Wilder family and missed her something fierce. That didn’t mean he wanted to meander down memory lane and tumble into the potholes.
Coward.
“She’s better now?” he asked when Jax fell silent. He already knew the answer. He’d kept tabs on Jax’s mom from afar. The quadruple bypass had done its job, though things had been touch and go for a while. She was okay. One of these days—sooner rather than later—he’d go see that for himself.
“Yeah. She is. Thank God.” Jax’s smile flared to life for an
instant before disappearing again. “But anyway, I was home a lot last summer and I stopped by the ice cream place. I didn’t even remember it was hers at first. Then she came out of the back and I did a fucking double take. She grew up nice, huh?” Before Chase could fumble out a reply, Jax continued. “She came right over to me and acted happy to see me. At first I thought it was just her being polite to a customer. We got talking and I knew it wasn’t. No matter what happened with you and me, she was still Cass.”
The back of Chase’s neck burned. With regret or shame, he didn’t know. To shake off the feeling, he dug into his meatloaf and put a serious dent in it before he spoke again. “She was always the best of us.”
“Hell yeah. No argument there.”
“So then what? You had a great reunion. What happened after that?”
Jax’s mouth curled into a scowl. “You know about Russ?”
“Russ who?” Chase leaned over the table. “Not Russ Jackson. What does he have to do with my sister?” Nice to realize Jax knew more about what was going on with his own family than he did. So much for burying his head under the pitcher’s mound. By the time he’d pulled it out of his own ass enough to look around, everything had changed.
His hometown. Summer. Hell, even him.
“You don’t know?”
“Would I be asking you if I knew?”
“True enough. Guess they’d been seeing each other. Which I discovered when she started gushing about him.” Jax pinched his nose. “I burst her little happy bubble by telling her I’d seen him kissing some chick at a restaurant the night before, and she damn near punched me in the eye again. Then she shut down and refused to talk to me.” He jerked a shoulder. “At least she broke up with the egotistical fuck.”