Last Fall: A Storm Inside Novel (The Wild Pitch Series Book 3)

by Alexis Anne

  “Truth,” I chuckled. “You’d really abandon us on the road?” I knew the answer but I’d never really thought through it before. If Zoe called and said she was hurt, of course I’d go. No question. That was my first thought. But as Wes started walking through the steps—when he said he’d leave us high and dry on the road—it hit me how I’d be torn in the same situation.

  This was the team I built. They were my family, too.

  “I love you, brother, but I love my wife more. We have Stanton for a reason. Everyone of us has someone who can fill our shoes for a game or two.”

  That’s the moment it hit me. Where that hesitation I was feeling was coming from.

  I had my job because someone left the Mantas. I was the fill-in. If I left, would someone fill my shoes and put me out of a job? I hated myself for thinking it. “Thanks for bringing this up.” If he hadn’t, I might have ruined my life with Zoe, because I had no doubt now that when she called I’d have hesitated. It wouldn’t have lasted long and I would have screwed my head on straight, but you don’t hesitate with the people you love. “I think you just saved me from a world of pain.”

  He patted my shoulder. “I think this means I’m officially better than you.”

  “Nope. Not even close.”

  I made my way back to the bedroom and found Zoe dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed with her phone, grinning like a fool. “Why do I have a feeling you’re posting pictures of me in an apron?”

  “Because I am.” She glanced up.

  “Damn . . . ” I whistled low. “You look hot.” And almost like a different person. The hair was bigger, the makeup heavier. It was Zoe, but amplified.

  She touched her hair. “Does it look okay? They suggested this makeup that was supposed to be good for pictures and I thought it looked fine in the bathroom mirror, but it feels like I’m wearing a mask.”

  “You look beautiful. Just more glamorous than normal.” Yeah, more glamorous. I gave myself a high-five for that one.

  She shook her head and laughed, then went back to her phone. “You’re already causing quite the sensation on Wes’s account.”

  I wasn’t so sure I liked that. “You’re bad news, you know that, right?”

  “Me?”

  “Yep. I have never, not once, been roped into a Wes Allen stunt until now.” Oh, sure I helped clean them up and watched from the sidelines, but I never participated.

  Until now.

  “I wouldn’t say it was a stunt . . . ”

  “It was totally a stunt.”

  She laughed, tossing her phone onto the bed. “Okay fine. I’m sorry I’m such a bad influence on you.”

  Man how I wanted to ruin her makeup.

  “What are you thinking?” she whispered. A flush crept up her neck.

  “How if you weren’t all ready to go I’d be a bad influence on you and ruin your hair and makeup.”

  The flush reached her cheeks. “Get over here.”

  I didn’t lean her back. Instead I stood in front of her, cupped her face, careful not to ruin a thing. “You can be a bad influence on me all you want. I promise I don’t mind.”

  She reached behind my neck, her hand warm against my still-bare skin, and pulled me down on top of her. “And you always have permission to ruin my makeup.”

  “Not your hair?” I asked between kisses that had to be doing a number on her lipstick.

  “Never ruin the hair.” She wrapped her legs around my waist. “It’s actually pretty hard to muss.”

  “Is that a challenge?”

  She bit her lower lip and batted her lashes. “Maybe next time.”

  I growled, grinding against her. “You sure about that?”

  Knock, knock, knock. “Stop with the sex! Time to roll out!” Wes yelled.

  Zoe sighed. “Yes. I’m sure.”

  Even though I didn’t like it, I rolled to the side and allowed her to escape to the bathroom to fix her makeup. Her phone rolled down the mattress and hit my thigh. It vibrated and the screen lit up with notifications for Zoe Hyde’s Instagram.

  “Hey Zo?”

  “Yeah?” she called. I could see her running her fingers through her hair.

  “You don’t post pictures of yourself very often.”

  She stared at her reflection for a few beats, then sighed, coming to stand in the doorway. “Your point?”

  “Are you worried he’ll find you one day?” I still hadn’t pushed for the details I craved but I needed to know if she was in danger.

  She stared at me for a long time. Then, “No. But I don’t tempt fate. I don’t like completely hiding my face from my fans. I go to events and take pictures. I have headshots on all my social media. But that’s all with my pen name. He could find me if he wanted to and so far he hasn’t. I’m not in hiding but I won’t broadcast my image out there more than I need to, either.”

  “Is he dangerous?”

  Her hands tightened into fists at her sides. “Only to me. Behind closed doors.”

  I went to her on instinct, wrapping her up in a giant hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset right now.”

  To my relief she squeezed me back. “I know.”

  I tilted her head up so I could see her eyes. “I just care about you and I want to understand.” I felt so close to her but in these moments the secrets she kept to herself seemed so huge it was like I didn’t know her at all.

  “Now isn’t the time.”

  “I know,” I said quickly because I could feel her heart rate increasing, see how fast she was spiraling. “I’m not asking you to explain anything right now. I’m sorry.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay.” Then she leaned her forehead into my chest. “You need a shirt.”

  Hopefully it was a good sign—proof she believed me—that she made a joke about my partial nudity. “I’m going to miss you this week.” Six straight days on the road followed by another six-game block at home. And then we were done with the regular season. It was the absolute worst time to try and nurture a new relationship.

  23

  Zoe

  We Totally Crossed That Bridge

  The menfolk left the signing halfway through so they could get back to Tampa in time for the game. They wouldn’t be coming back since they had a one o’clock game on Sunday and then flights to catch for their week on the road.

  I used the chaos of the event, the following dinner and evening of drinks, to stay distracted from the really uncomfortable black hole that seemed to have taken up residence behind my ribcage. I didn’t like this sensation at all. Not only was it unpleasant, but it reminded me a bit too much of the darkness that pulled me into the worst decision of my life.

  I kept reminding myself that there was nothing similar about Erik and Tony, nor the Zoe I was back then and who I was today.

  But the darkness doesn’t appreciate logic.

  Oh no, the darkness feeds on the ability to distort logic. So it was much better to stay distracted than allow myself time to dance with the devil.

  But distractions only last so long.

  “Text me the minute you land,” I said as I stood outside the security lines. In my frenzy to keep occupied as long as possible I parked and walked in with everyone. Plus I hated saying goodbye so delaying the inevitable until the last possible second was pretty much a given.

  “Fourty-eight days until we’re together again. Well, most of us,” Laura said.

  We tackle-hugged Lindsay and Julia since we wouldn’t see them again until January. I was trying really hard to not cry about that.

  I hugged them each then sent them through security. I choked up a little as they all waved from the other side.

  Time to go home.

  June met me at the rental car agency a few blocks from our house. “So how was the weekend?” We piled my bags into the trunk of her car.

  “I had a great time. The house was amazing the beach was perfect and the signing went well.”

  June rolled her
eyes. “I love how you conveniently left out the most interesting part. Are you creating tension on purpose?”

  “I’m not being dramatic.” I slammed my door shut and buckled up. “I was just covering the basics first.”

  June backed out of the parking space and started back toward the island. “Well, now that you’ve cleared that up, how was Erik?”

  “Good. Really good. He got along really well with everyone.”

  She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “That’s not exactly surprising. I was more interested in how you got along with everyone now that you have a love interest in the mix.”

  “Love interest? Have you been listening in on my work calls?”

  She shrugged. “I have an interest in understanding your work, okay? So, how are you feeling?”

  “Good? It was very natural. I think it helped that I was in work mode. I wasn’t Zoe Burke, former nanny, baseball groupie, longtime friend. I was Zoe Hyde, badass writer of books who happens to have taken a lover.”

  June’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Oh yeah, we totally crossed that bridge.”

  “And it was good?” her grin kept getting bigger.

  So of course I took my time answering her. “It was amazing, actually.”

  “Yeah! I’m so happy for you.”

  We turned down our street and it was as if we passed through some sort of portal. The freedom I’d felt for the last few days disappeared. Cinderella was back from the ball. I wouldn’t be cleaning floors or anything, but I did feel strangely ordinary again.

  “When everyone’s back next week we’ll have to have a dinner to celebrate,” she said, parking the car in the driveway.

  Next week. Seven days apart. “Does it get easier? This spending long stretches of time in different places?”

  June frequently traveled with the team and Roman was often on the road visiting his clients.

  “I think it’s hardest in the beginning. You’re just starting to get some momentum and boom you’re apart for days. It’s almost like starting over again. Plus all you want to do is be together so every second you’re apart is torture. So, yes it gets easier. But I won’t lie, I miss him like crazy every single time.”

  I was afraid she was going to say that. “When do you leave?”

  “I’m joining them for the second set of games in Toronto. My flight is early Friday morning.” She seemed to have something else to say so I waited instead of jumping out to start on my luggage. “I’ve seen some couples fall apart because of the intensity of the schedule. It’s a lot of time apart. A lot of time exhausted and under pressure. And then in the offseason everything flips around and they’re home everyday. The couples that make it find a system that works for them. Your relationship with Erik won’t be like Carrie and Wes’s or mine and Roman’s. It will be yours and no one else’s. Figure out what you want and what you can’t live with, and be honest. The sooner the better. They’re favored to win their division and there will be nothing more intense and stressful than the next few weeks.”

  Great. Add in my own whirlwind of career change and we were a couple of nut jobs, not a couple in love.

  I threw myself into finishing Jessica and Ryan’s book, up all hours of the day and night writing, turning into the absent-minded zombie writer I secretly enjoyed being.

  And very sweetly, Erik checked in to make sure I was eating and sleeping. I woke up to cute text messages reminding me food is fuel and caffeine is not meant to replace water.

  Whatever. Clearly he’d learn there was no coming between me and coffee. I managed to keep so busy I had no time to do anything except write and sleep.

  Until I finished the stupid book.

  I kept staring at the blinking cursor but . . . nope. That was where the book ended. Their journey to love was done.

  I checked my inbox but Sonya, my editor, kept insisting edits wouldn’t be back on book three for at least another two weeks. The witch!

  My lovely assistant had everything in order. Nerd!

  I could start another indie project. Maybe not a romance since I just finished one and my own life was enough to deal with. The Butterfly Rebellion could surely use a new book.

  Or maybe not a book. That involved a lot of commitment.

  Maybe a short story. Or a spin-off!

  But the stupid words wouldn’t come. I closed my laptop.

  I cleaned the bathroom. Mopped the kitchen. Washed the car. June and Roman were both in Toronto and I had that big empty house all to myself.

  With nothing to do but think.

  So I sat down at the kitchen table with a legal pad, a pen, and an idea.

  The darkness and I were going to have a little chat.

  I imagined opening that door I kept shut in my mind was a lot like an old black and white vampire movie when they open the creaky wooden door and a hundred bats went flying past.

  My parents loved him. Every relationship has its struggles. He loves you so much. Work through it. It will be worth it.

  My friends hated him. He’s . . . an asshole and we don’t want to be around him anymore. You’re always welcome, but don’t bring him.

  And me? Well, I think I was lonely.

  Loneliness proved to be my vulnerability. The perfect opportunity for Tony to exploit. Meeting a slightly older, much more successful, incredibly sexy man at a bar before our respective dinners one night was exciting. When he called immediately asking for a date, I was thrilled. He took me to expensive restaurants, was respectful, he showed off his intellect, power, wealth, and all I thought of it at the time was how incredibly lucky someone like me was to be getting the attention of someone like him.

  Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t think poorly of myself or have a horrible childhood. I just . . . never fit. My mother was a lead accountant for a large corporation and my father was a very sought after financial consultant. They were numbers people with busy schedules. My brother followed right in their footsteps while I was . . . different. The oddball. The dreamer who wanted to be a writer. They insisted I get my MBA. They constantly reminded me that starving artists can’t pay their bills. They made sense. I could always write later.

  I never felt that loving acceptance from my family and while I was a good student and completely capable at my job, these weren’t my kind of people. They didn’t wake up from dreams and feel compelled to spend the rest of the night writing. They didn’t listen to music with their eyes closed and their hearts open. And so as a result I was constantly, perpetually, lonely.

  Until Tony made me the center of his universe.

  Our first time was nice. Very nice. Considering my past boyfriends had been very lackluster in the first-time department I once again pointed to Tony’s age and experience as making him a superior lover.

  A superior person, really.

  He stacked up the dominoes and I followed along, trotting behind like an oblivious lamb on the way to slaughter.

  He continued to charm my parents. My friends dropped off one by one, replaced, I thought, by Tony’s love and our new friends we’d met together. His business partners and their wives.

  Key words being his, his, and his.

  Not mine. Everything that was mine was gone except for my job.

  And then . . . Let’s move in together. I was so busy playing house I didn’t notice being sealed up in the pretty box called Tony Moravek’s penthouse. He was good. Very good. He even waited four months after I moved in, enough to get comfortable and compliant again, before he suggested I quit my job and go freelance.

  So I could be more flexible and less stressed. So I could be with him.

  I was so oblivious.

  I scratched a few hateful words on the legal pad in front of me because it was cathartic to let it out, but I couldn’t look at what I’d written so I tore off the page and crumpled it up.

  Dressed up like his little doll Tony would parade me out for dinner and “meetings” but I had almost no life outside of him. I didn’t even n
otice—probably because up until then I liked all the attention—until I ran into an old co-worker and we decided to grab lunch together.

  It was in the middle of the laughing about our old boss that she suggested I come back. They missed me. No one was as good as I was and they were floundering.

  That’s when I said the words that woke me up.

  “Oh Tony wouldn’t like that. He’d be so mad.”

  She stared at me like I was an alien who’d just been plunked down across from her while I sat with my mouth hanging open as I realized what I’d said.

  What I’d done.

  I laughed it off as a joke and then said that I was so busy with my freelance clients that I couldn’t imagine ever going back to working for someone else.

  It was such a lie. I only had one client left. Tony kept me so busy traveling with him that I’d dropped the others for convenience. After all, I was living a dream life, being whisked away from city to city, wining and dining with the rich and famous. Would I rather spend my days enjoying the city and the comforts of our five-star hotels, or cooped up working on someone else’s money?

  Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

  But I could fix it. Fix us. Surely it wasn’t intentional. We were just so in love we’d slipped down a slippery slope. He’d understand.

  I took back a client and added a new one. He noticed I was busier again.

  “Why didn’t you take the food tour today?” We were in New York City.

  “I had to finish these projections and I wanted to get a jump on Hu’s second quarter,” I said as if it were perfectly normal.

  It should have been perfectly normal.

  But Tony was upset. Very upset. I’d never seen him so angry.

  It was just the tip of the iceberg.

  We fought about my work for weeks. He kept insisting he was just so stressed with his own workload. He apologized for each outburst. I forgave him. He kept suggesting I was working too hard, that he was worried about me. I ignored him. That’s when he brought home the tickets to Paris. He made it nearly impossible to do anything but be with him on that trip.