Perfect Game

by Collette West

  It annoys me that, just because she's a Heimlich, she thinks she has that much power over my life, believing she can fix it.

  "Scott, they're doing this to punish me. It has nothing to do with you."

  I grip the phone hard against my ear, unable to let that remark slide. "How can you even say that?" I spit back, my anger getting the best of me. "It has everything to do with me, Carrie!"

  We shouldn't be having this conversation right now—not when things are so heated—but she kept pushing. And now, everything could come crashing down around us. I don't want that to happen though. I can't lose her, too.

  "I'm just telling you that it's not your fault," she backtracks. "You didn't do anything wrong."

  "Of course I did," I mutter, banging the back of my head against the door. "I kept screwing the boss's granddaughter."

  I hear her gasp, like she can't believe I just said that. I feel like kicking myself for being so blatantly honest, but it's too late to take it back now.

  "That's not what you called it last night," she levels at me, the hurt evident in her voice.

  "Yeah, well, things are different now." I stare down at my bare feet, the reality finally sinking in that I'm not in a Seattle hotel with the rest of the Kings and she is.

  "C'mon, Scott. Don't be like this."

  "I'd rather not have this conversation with a towel pressed up against the bathroom door so I don't disturb my brother." I clench my jaw and look up at the ceiling. "It's just not a good time."

  "All right. We can talk tomorrow. But Scott, before I hang up, I need to know…" She takes a shaky breath. "Are…are we okay?"

  "Carrie," I groan, letting myself unload on her. "I just got traded in the middle of one of the hottest hitting streaks in recent memory. In the span of a few hours, I went from being on the New York Kings, a team I thought I'd be with for the rest of my career, to ending up with San Diego, a team that's already at the bottom of its division and is probably gonna stay there for the rest of the season. It's kind of a big adjustment for me. I don't even know where my luggage is, never mind my career."

  "I get it," she breaks in. "And I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am about what my family did to you."

  "But there's no way you can possibly understand. How could you?" I close my eyes, wishing for the millionth time that things didn't have to turn out this way, but they did. "Carrie, you've never had what you care about the most suddenly ripped away from you. You have no idea what this feels like."

  "How can you say that?" she shoots back. "They took you away from me, didn't they?"

  I feel my eyes well up at that, and I'm not a guy who cries that easily. My emotions are raw, but hearing her say that… Damn. It's more than I can take. I press my tongue against my cheek, giving myself a minute.

  But when I don't respond, she mistakes my silence for anger and lashes out again. "It's not like I'm the big winner in all of this."

  I roughly wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, ready to fight back. "But you're a hop, skip, and a jump away from the big time, Carrie. You're in New York, one of the largest media markets in the world, the perfect springboard to get hired by one of the major networks. One day, you'll be covering the playoffs for a national audience, and I just got my ass bounced onto a team that boasts a losing record year after year after year, my dream of ever getting back to the World Series—gone in the blink of an eye."

  "I told you," Carrie states with a deadly calm, her voice low like she's getting aggravated that I'm not listening to her. "It's not over. I'm gonna fix this."

  "How?" I push her. "You couldn't even stop them from trading me in the first place."

  "I don't know," she admits, and I grit my teeth. "But I'm going to try. You have to believe me."

  "Yeah, don't go doing me any favors," I snipe.

  "Scott!" she yells at me, and it's not like I don't deserve it.

  "I'm pissed, all right? I'm freakin' pissed," I snap in a heated whisper, trying not to wake Bobby. "You gotta stop pushing me on this."

  "I'm not going to let them get away with this, Scott," she says, deflecting my anger and looking past what an obstinate asshole I'm being. "I promise I'm going to fight for you, do whatever it takes."

  "Yeah, you do that," I mumble, pinching the bridge of my nose.

  "Please, Scott," she implores, and I can hear the fear in her voice. "Please don't give up on us."

  When she sniffles, all I want to do is hop on the next flight to Seattle and show her just how sorry I am.

  "As long as you don't start crying," I whisper softly, thanking my lucky stars when I hear her give a cross between a laugh and a sob, which wills me to go on. "I can't deal with hearing you cry and not being able to hold you, Care Bear."

  "Last night, I was in your arms, and now, you're—" She sniffles again, releasing the breath she was holding. "I just can't believe this is happening."

  "Yeah. Me neither," I sigh, clutching the back of my neck. "Because then maybe I wouldn't feel like shit right now."

  "Oh, Scott," she moans. "I wish I could be there with you."

  "God, Carrie. Don't mind me," I mutter, knowing we want the same thing even if we can't have it—at least, not at this very moment. "I'm just dead tired and not in the greatest of moods, but I'll call you in the morning, okay?"

  "All right. Get some sleep," she whispers.

  I hate how this whole fuckin' situation is keeping us apart. "Probably not gonna happen without having you next to me. But I'll try." My voice is thick with emotion when I think of her curled up alone in some hotel, her pillowcase wet with her tears. It just kills me inside.

  "Scott?" she asks tentatively, not wanting to hang up.

  "Yeah?" I bite down hard on my lip, not wanting to say goodbye either—not without knowing when I'll see her again.

  "I love you," she says breathily, blowing me away.

  I don't know how she knew, but she said exactly what I needed to hear from her. Nothing else matters in my life without her in it. I see that now. Nothing can restore my hope to forge on like those three precious words she just gave me. I always thought that, when a woman said them to me, I'd run screaming in the opposite direction, but hearing Carrie tell me that she loves me is different. Deep down, I think it's what I've been waiting to hear all along in this conversation, and I cling to that now with everything I have in me.

  "I know, Care Bear," I respond, my voice cracking. "As much as all of this sucks…" I shut my eyes and speak from the heart. "I want you to know that I love you, too."

  ***

  My phone rings the next morning, jolting me awake.

  I blink. Where the fuck am I?

  I look wildly around at my surroundings until I spy Bobby's empty bed.

  Oh yeah. How could I forget?

  I reach into the pocket of my shorts, where my phone is vibrating against my leg, and realize I'm sporting some serious morning wood after having woken up in the middle of kissing my way down Carrie's neck. Too bad it was only in my goddamn dream. I tap the screen and realize too late that it's upside down.

  I mutter, "Hell…hello?" as I scramble to flip it around.

  "Scott, I have great news!"

  "Good morning to you too, Care Bear." I smile, my dick hardening even more from hearing Carrie's sultry voice in my ear, which is certainly my preferred way of waking up.

  "Do you know who you're playing on Thursday?"

  "Like I give a rat's ass," I mumble.

  "The New York Titans…IN NEW YORK!" she screams in my ear.

  I sit straight up in bed. "No friggin' way."

  "Picture it—me, naked, in your apartment," she says in that sexy tone that never fails to get me going.

  I groan, and she laughs on the other end.

  I lean back on my elbows, glancing around my childhood room and seeing the various medals and trophies from my past, which are now collecting dust. And that's when all of the repercussions from the trade start to hit me dead on.

  "Care Bear,
as good as that sounds, I haven't even thought about what I'm gonna do about my place in New York. I guess I'll have to get rid of it. It's not like I'll be needing it now."

  "Yeah, but what about the off season?" she asks, her voice kicking up a notch.

  "That's what my house in Florida is for."

  She doesn't ask me why I don't spend my winters in San Diego, and I'm glad. I don't feel like admitting that I've been staying away to avoid seeing Bobby. He's not the strong, proud soldier I remember. Now, he's moping around in a wheelchair, half the man he was before he left for Afghanistan.

  "But I—" Carrie stammers, getting all nervous.

  God, I love it when she's sassy, but it tears up my heart when she gets all sweet and vulnerable.

  "You don't need an invitation." I smile, flirting with her. "You know I want you with me."

  "Yeah, but like you said last night, there are a lot of details we need to work out," she replies, slamming on the brakes. "We don't have to decide everything right this second."

  "Don't you wanna come and live with me in the off season?" I question her openly, in no mood to avoid the subject—not after she said that she loves me. "Damn it, the thought of having you all to myself at the end of the season is the only thing that's gonna get me through these next few months without you."

  "We'll figure it out," is all she can utter in response before the excuses start tumbling out of her mouth. "It's just that my mom has a lot of charity engagements around the holidays that she needs my help with, and then there's the weekly winter edition of the clubhouse report that I'll have to do. I don't know if I can be away from New York for that long."

  This isn't how I expected this to go. I should have waited until I was able to talk to her in person because doing this over the phone sucks. I can't see her face. I don't know if she's scared, pissed, or what, and this is just day one of trying the long-distance thing.

  "So you're telling me that you don't think it's gonna work out?" I need to know how she truly feels about the idea of there being an "us" now that she's had time to think about it and examine her feelings for me in the harsh light of day.

  "No, of course not. I'll fly back and forth if I have to," she assures me, her voice strong and determined. "Scott, nothing's going to keep me away from you."

  And then my phone beeps.

  "Christ," I groan, not wanting to let her go. "I hate to do this, but someone's on the other line. I don't recognize the number, but it could be my new manager or somebody. I gotta take this."

  "Absolutely," she says like she's happy to avoid having to talk about this—which is not a good sign. "Go on and do what you have to do, but call me later, okay?" Then she pauses before her voice caresses my ear again. "I love you, Scott."

  I fall back on the pillow and smile. "I love you, too."

  "No regrets?" she whispers.

  "None whatsoever." I throw my arm across the empty half of the bed, wishing she were there next to me. I jam my butt hard into the mattress when she air kisses the receiver, shoving my hand down under the waistband of my shorts. I exhale loudly, making her giggle.

  "You better get that," she urges before saying seductively, "I'd send you a photo of me getting out of the shower, but with your phone being hacked and all…"

  "Get ready," I growl into the phone. "Because when I see you on Thursday, you're not gonna be walking straight when I get done with you."

  "Promise?" she taunts me.

  "I gotta go. You're killing me here," I moan, pulling my hand out of my shorts.

  All I hear is her sweet laughter as I switch over to the other call.

  "Hello?" I say briskly, steamed at being interrupted from the possibility of having some early morning phone sex with my super-hot girlfriend. Wow. I didn't even hesitate to call her my girlfriend. That's a first.

  "Hey, Harper. I'm glad you picked up."

  Now there's a familiar baritone I haven't heard in a while—at least, not when I wasn't faking a head injury.

  "Jilly?" I ask, hardly believing that it's him. "Dude, I didn't even think you owned a phone."

  "Ha, ha. Very funny," he grumbles. "I can't believe they fuckin' traded you, man." He seems like he's really torn up about it, and I know that the big guy rarely shows emotion. So this is huge.

  "I think we both know why," I mutter through my teeth.

  "But have you heard what they're saying to cover their asses?" Jilly spits out angrily.

  "No. What?" I hold the phone in the crook of my neck, tossing my feet over the side of the bed, breathing deeply.

  "That I might not be ready," Jilly seethes. "That they need insurance in case I can't deliver. That's why I called—to let you know that it's one hundred percent bullshit."

  "Dude, I already know that. If anyone can make the comeback of all comebacks, it's you." I start pacing the confines of the room. There's no way I can sit still while hearing the big guy this upset.

  "And all they got for you is that cocksucker Housingbrook," Jilly grouses. "He can't even jog out from the bullpen without shitting his pants."

  "Watch it, Jilly." I chew on my lip, fighting the urge to laugh. "He's your new teammate now. Go easy on him."

  "Harper, his ERA is over four," Jilly argues.

  I gotta love how friggin' competitive the guy is. A reliever with an earned run average hovering around four is a boon to any bullpen, and Jilly's making it sound like Housingbrook sucks.

  He has nothing to worry about, but he views the guy the Kings got for me as a threat to his job security. Housingbrook's there in case Jilly can't get it done when he comes off the disabled list. The big guy sounds just as rattled as I am. But Jilly's the best of the best. He just needs someone to remind him of that.

  "Dude, before you got hurt you were the only guy in the majors coasting in with an ERA under one. That doesn't mean everyone can be as dominating as you are, my man."

  "Don't even try to make this into a good thing," Jilly reprimands me. "The guy's a joke."

  "So, what are you so mad about? You're still on the team," I say, staring out the window at my brother, who's sitting in the backyard, brooding.

  "Because the Kings made a sucker deal, trading away our best hitter for a closer when they already have one," Jilly retorts.

  "I did it to myself, bro. What can I say?" I lean my forehead against the glass, watching Bobby stare into space with his shoulders slumped, his head hanging down.

  "So, you really had no clue who she was?" Jilly presses.

  "Nope." I move my head listlessly from side to side.

  "How'd they find out about you being with her?" Jilly inquires, the trace of doubt in his tone already hinting that he thinks I'm the one who screwed up.

  "I got ambushed by her dad when I invited myself over for dinner." I shake my head.

  Man, I was so cocky. I thought I had it all in the bag until everything blew up in my face. Even when I found out who her parents were, I still thought I could charm the pants off them. Boy, was I wrong.

  I bash my head against the window frame. "But it wasn't all me. Carrie spilled the beans when she was talking to her grandfather."

  "Shit," Jilly moans. "Arnold knows?"

  "Why do you think I'm with San Diego now?" I ask, grimacing.

  "Fuck. Why'd she do that?" Jilly inquires, sounding just as frustrated as I am.

  "Because she probably thought that, deep down, it'd all be okay and that, somehow, she'd get her family to accept me," I reply, mustering up a halfhearted response.

  "Who's she kidding?" Jilly groans, well aware of the lengths the organization is willing to go to in order to keep us in line.

  "But, Jilly, she's never been on the other side the way we are." I raise my arm and curl my fingers around the cord of the mini blinds. "She thinks the men in her family are good, decent people, and I don't wanna take that away from her." Even though I already know that her father isn't a good, decent man, I don't care to elaborate on that with Jilly.

  "Gayle can final
ly prove that Terry was the one who hired the hacker."

  For a second, my entire world spins on its axis.

  We've known for months that Terry was behind this.

  But now Gayle has come through and unearthed some damning evidence that the GM of the New York Kings paid someone to ruin me.

  "Jilly, you gotta be fuckin' kidding me!" I part the blinds wide and pound on the glass, but my brother doesn't even turn around.

  "Harper, there's no way you're going to take this lying down," Jilly huffs.

  I know that, when something's gnawing at him, he's like a dog with a bone. He's not going to let it go.

  "What do you want me to do, Jilly? Go to the players' union? Take it up with the commissioner?" I bluster, running my hand through my hair. "You know they're all in Terry's back pocket."

  "Then go straight up the ladder and talk to Arnold yourself," Jilly replies as calmly as ever.

  I chuckle. The dude's got balls. I'll give him that. "Yeah, if the old man'd even see me, and there's one big problem with that. We don't know if he's been telling Terry to do all this shit for him or not."

  "Yeah, but Terry's behind it," Jilly seethes. "Scott, he's gotta be stopped."

  "But I'm not gonna be the one to do it," I tell him point-blank. "I've got too much to lose here, Jilly. I start threatening Arnold's right-hand man and I'll never get within ten feet of Carrie ever again."

  "You're seriously gonna keep seeing her?" Jilly asks, incredulous. "Dude, she cost you your job!"

  "I'm in too deep, man." I stroke my jaw. "There's no way I can let her go. Not now."

  "Of all the girls you had to fall in love with, it'd have to be her." Jilly exhales, and I open the window to get some air, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden.

  I thought Jilly would be happy for me. God, he sounds just like Jake.

  "You're screwed, brother. Nothing good's gonna come of all this. Either she's gonna break away from her family or she's gonna break up with you, and either scenario is gonna come with a whole shitload of pain."

  "You just get back to the bigs, all right?" I reply, not wanting to think about what he just said. "Leave the hard stuff to me."

  "They have me pitching in Stockton next week," he informs me.