by Sierra Dean
Alice’s hands were shaking.
“I can’t…” Her sentence fell apart, defying completion.
“I know.” Kevin had long ago stopped thinking positive things about their mother.
“How could she?”
“Easy. Money.”
Alice went to play the message again, but Kevin stayed her hand. “You don’t need to do that. You’ve heard it,” he said, giving her a gentle squeeze.
“I blamed Alex,” she whispered. “I asked him if he’d sold me out, and then ended things with him, Kevin.” Tears filled her eyes as she searched the room for something that might keep them from falling. Too late. Her lip trembled, and the unwanted tears streamed freely. “God, I wouldn’t listen to him, and I’ve ruined everything.”
Her brother hugged her tight, the smell of his skin a comforting and familiar thing, something she’d known her whole life. “You can’t blame yourself. You had good reason to believe he might be responsible.”
She wrapped her arms around his middle and cried until the front of his shirt was damp and smeared with mascara. The last time she’d cried so hard was the day she found out she was pregnant with Olivia, and Kevin had been the one to comfort her then too. In spite of all his failings and all the fuckups he’d made in his life, he was a constant presence of comfort to her. That was the precise reason she’d never been able to give up on him when everyone else had, because she knew the person inside him. She knew the man he was capable of being, even when others only saw the miserable prick on the surface.
Alice loved her brother unconditionally.
Just like the Ross sisters loved Alex.
“Oh, God. Kev… I need to go, can you stay wi—”
“Like you even need to ask at this point?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
A six-game suspension wasn’t the worst punishment for punching a giant douchebag in the face. If Alex was being honest with himself, he’d have willingly sat out the rest of the season if it meant he’d gotten to knock Matt Hernandez on his ass.
Lesson learned?
Not hardly.
Of course Emmy and Jim, the batting coach, had ridden him like crazy in training after the suspensions got handed down. If he wasn’t playing, he was going to be sweating hard in the cages and doing extra workouts to make up the difference. They made sure he wasn’t going to go soft during the week he was off. More specifically they were doing their own form of in-house punishment to keep him from acting out in the future.
Because laps and jump squats would stay his temper somehow.
Honestly, Alex wasn’t a violent guy. The idea of lashing out physically wasn’t his typical nature. But he’d made a glad exception for Matt, and he would do it again in a heartbeat. It was a good thing the Mets and Felons didn’t meet all that regularly. But if they butted heads in the World Series, things might get interesting, and the network would get a lot of mileage out of the fight clip.
Matt, from what Alex heard on the MLB Trade Rumors website, had gotten an identical suspension, primarily because of what had happened to Miles.
Miles’s injury was the only part of the whole situation Alex felt guilty about, in spite of the young pitcher telling him he wouldn’t change a damned thing given another go at it.
A fractured clavicle on his right side—his dominant pitching arm—meant Miles was out for a minimum of six weeks. Since the fracture had been complicated, he’d needed to undergo surgery to have a metal plate put in for reinforcement. Miles was a good sport about the whole thing, asking Emmy if being a cyborg would put him in an unfair position against other starting pitchers.
Even his cheerful sense of humor about the whole thing didn’t make Alex feel less guilty. The kid was having a great season, and now he’d be out until the postseason started, possibly out until the next season altogether. Sure, he wasn’t totally innocent—after all, he had thrown the pitches that hit Matt—but Alex still felt responsible for the break and the subsequent fallout for Miles.
It was shitty to know your friend was suffering all over some stupid fight. Even knowing the price that was paid, Alex wasn’t sure he’d take any of it back.
“Prick had it coming,” Miles had reminded him, with his arm bandaged and set in a sling. “Did you see the way I flipped him over?” Indeed, most of the sports-loving world had seen the kung-fu-style flip Miles had used on Matt, though it was Alex’s right hook that got most of the headlines.
“Yeah, man. I’ve got the YouTube clip bookmarked.” This seemed to be all Miles needed to know to be satisfied.
Alex’s first game back post-suspension had been uneventful. He felt at home behind the plate, and the triple-A pitcher they’d called up to fill Miles’s hole in the roster was pretty good. He wasn’t good enough to take the position full-time, but he’d win some games for them in the meantime.
It was a home game against the Indians, and the crowd had cheered when Alex’s name was announced. A few people held up signs with Matt’s face on them with a black eye painted on, but aside from that the suspension went unmentioned. The Felons had won, which was a relief, and also meant they had an almost insurmountable lead in their division. They were twelve games ahead of the Texas Rangers, who would have to win every single game for the next month—and the Felons lose as many—if they had a hope in hell of surpassing them.
So basically, the Felons were a shoe-in for the postseason.
It was by no means a guarantee to win the World Series, but it was one step closer to having the ring on his hand.
He needed to keep his eye on the ball and his nose out of more trouble.
He’d just finished changing and dumping his dirty uniform into the laundry bin when Chet popped his head into the locker room. “Oh hey, man, you are still here.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s, um…well, there’s someone to see you?” He phrased it like a question, making Alex wonder who precisely was outside. The last time someone had been lying in wait for him after a game it had been Alice ready to read him the riot act. He wasn’t in the mood to get yelled at tonight.
“Is it a reporter?” He’d opted not to participate in the post-game conference to avoid any questions about his part in the fight. If someone had ducked out of the pressroom to question him in the clubhouse, he didn’t want to deal with it.
Chet laughed. “No. Not a reporter. Trust me.”
While that did nothing to ease Alex’s discomfort over the vagueness of his guest, he followed Chet into the hall.
It took him a moment to realize who was waiting for him.
“Olivia?”
She was wearing the Felons jersey he’d given her in Lakeland, the one with her name on the back. A Felons cap one size too large covered her ears and half obscured her eyes, which had given him some difficulty placing her at first.
“Hi, Alex!” she said cheerfully, as though it were perfectly normal for her to be standing outside the Felons clubhouse. In San Francisco. By herself.
“Liv, honey, what are you doing here?” He’d meant to lead up to the question, but he was so stunned to see her he couldn’t hold back. “Is everything okay? Where’s—?”
“I’m fine. I came to see the game.”
“By yourself?”
She rolled her eyes, as if he should be ashamed of himself for asking such a stupid question. “No. I’m nine. Duh.”
He scanned the hall for a sign of Alice, for Kevin even, any sign Liv really hadn’t come on her own.
“You okay here?” Chet asked, looking from Alex to the little girl.
“Yeah, man. I know her mom.”
“Okay.” The shortstop gave a nod and waved at Liv. “Catch ya later, kid.”
“Good save in the third, Mr. Appleton,” she replied.
He blushed then nodded to them both before walking past her and out of sight. Alex was now alone with Liv. In spite of knowing no one else was in the hall, he kept looking for a sign of another person. Any other person.
�
��How did you get here?”
“Car.”
“But not by yourself.”
“No,” she insisted, now sounding annoyed with him.
“Okay, Liv, who brought you?”
“Come on.” She held out a hand to him, and he eyed her suspiciously.
The last thing he needed was a random reporter walking around finding him with a girl who wasn’t related to him in any way. But this was Olivia. This was a child he knew and cared deeply for, and not to take her hand was worse than any assumptions people might make about their relationship.
He took her offered hand, and she set off in the direction Chet had gone. They were barely out of the players’ hallway when he spotted another familiar face, but not the one he’d expected to come along with Liv’s appearance.
Waiting on the concourse to the spectator seats was Ricki, her arms crossed and a typical unsmiling expression on her face as she scanned the empty halls.
“Ricki? What the hell?”
“Language,” Ricki scolded. “Bad enough we let the kid go back there alone, we don’t need her picking up on your foul habits.”
Alex turned from his sister to Alice’s daughter, and there was no logical connection between the two he could make.
“What’s going on?”
“Come on,” Ricki insisted. “You know I hate long stories.”
Olivia wrenched her hand free of Alex’s and skipped ahead, staying in sight, but barely. She was so comfortable on the concourse it was like she owned the place.
Then she spotted something and ran off full tilt, disappearing from sight.
“Liv,” Alex called, terrified of being responsible for losing her. Alice already hated him, and if he lost her daughter, not only would she never forgive him, she’d probably find a way to murder him.
He went to run after her, but Ricki grabbed his arm, holding him back. “She’s okay.”
“Ricki, start talking. What the hell is going on?”
“I think someone else is better suited to explain.” She jerked her chin to the end of the concourse, where he now saw Liv standing next to a shuttered hot dog vendor, bouncing energetically in front of another familiar figure.
This woman, though, was the one he’d dared not hope to see again, but the only one who made sense given Olivia’s arrival.
Alice stood in the middle of the concourse, brushing Liv’s curls back under the cap and listening intently to whatever her daughter was telling her. When she lifted her face and met Alex’s gaze, his heart stopped beating.
He’d always thought that was a clichéd notion, how one look could make a heart stop working, but the moment her eyes locked on his he was a goner. She might have sent him into full cardiac arrest with the perfect way her lips curved into a smile. It wasn’t the joyous, beautiful smile he knew Alice was capable of. This one was hesitant, apologetic and a little sad.
But it was still Alice standing there smiling at him.
“Ricki…”
“Jesus, you idiot, go on. She’s not here for me.” His sister gave him a shove.
He stepped forward, but his feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each. The relatively small distance between him and Alice might as well have been miles for all the time it took to reach her, but once they were within a few feet of each other, she smiled again, and this time it lifted all the weight off him.
He touched her cheek, running his fingers through her hair. If she was going to vanish soon—which was how every dream he’d had like this had ended—he wanted to remember the feel of her before he woke up.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi, yourself.”
“You’re a long way from Florida.”
“I know.”
“And you’re with my sister.”
“I know that too.” Alice laughed and raised her hand, her warm palm covering his. Her fingers were shaking, or maybe his were. It was hard to tell.
“What are you doing here?” he asked finally. He hoped it didn’t sound harsh, hoped she wouldn’t think she was unwelcome. Though a small part of him was still mad at her for how she’d treated him the last time they’d been together, a much bigger part didn’t care because she was right here.
“It’s a bit of a long story…” Alice looked down, letting her hand drop, but he caught it, holding it in his own like he might be able to keep her tethered to him. The longer she stood there, the more willing he was to believe she was real and not a dream. She lifted her face, her eyes half-hidden under her lashes.
“Alice, look at me.”
She did, and her blue eyes shone with a thin film of tears. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I made a mistake.”
“I punched your ex,” he blurted, countering her confession with one of his own.
Again, she laughed, though it hitched in her throat, coming up a little short. “I saw that.”
“Oh.”
She wrapped her other hand around his and kissed his knuckles. “I know it wasn’t you. I should have listened to you in the first place, and I’m so sorry I doubted you. I was angry about my job and I was stupid. I’m so sor—”
He kissed her.
Pulling her tight against him with his free hand, he held her captive against his body as his mouth met hers and he kissed her like it was the first time and the last time all at once. He kissed her like it was his only purpose on earth, and when she melted against him and kissed him back, squeezing his hand where it was pressed between them, he knew it wouldn’t be the last time.
No one kissed goodbye like that.
“Gross,” Liv muttered.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Three months later
Liv chased Kevin down the beach, squealing with delight even as her knit hat fell off and landed in the wet sand. Her uncle dodged out of her grasp but was intentionally running slower than he was capable of.
Alice hugged her sweater around her and got to her feet to collect the fallen hat, otherwise Liv was bound to forget it, and there would be tears later when they realized it was long gone to the Atlantic surf.
She watched Kevin and Liv race down the beach, little chunks of sand kicked up in their wake. Kevin plucked up Liv and pretended like he was going to throw her in the ocean, and the girl screamed bloody murder, her shrieks mixed with full-on belly giggles as she slapped at his arms.
Returning to her place in the sand, Alice threw the hat to Alex, who caught it one-handed and placed it on top of their bags.
They were coming to the end of their three weeks on the Florida coast, staying at a cute cabin Alex had rented following the end of the World Series. He hadn’t talked much about it since game seven had wrapped, and honestly they’d had better things to discuss in the meantime.
Three weeks with all the people who mattered most to her in the world was as close to heaven on earth as Alice was likely to find, even if it was November and the ocean far too cold to swim in. She didn’t want to ruin the perfect glow of the vacation by reminding Alex how the series had gone.
He’d been there. He was perfectly aware about the loss.
It had come down to the Felons and the Braves when the dust of the postseason had settled, and all the blogs and sports stations were saying the Felons were heavily favored to win. They’d had a more solid year, and both their pitching staff and offensive players had been more consistent throughout the season.
They’d won the first three games, and the stats on that sort of thing made them almost a sure bet to win the fourth and take the series in a sweep.
But the funny thing about stats was they weren’t always right.
The Braves won game four. And the next two as well, leaving the series tied up at three games apiece.
It came down to game seven.
Alice had been at the game, driving up to Atlanta to meet Alex’s sisters and his parents. It hadn’t been her dream way to meet the rest of his family, especially not given their rocky relationship and the fact they’d only been reunited a couple of mont
hs. But there was no way in hell she was missing game seven of the World Series.
Liv had been beside herself she couldn’t come.
Alice sometimes saw the ninth inning in her dreams. She was convinced that game would go to the grave with her as one of the most memorable events in her life. And most heartbreaking.
None of it was Alex’s fault.
The final pitch, bottom of the ninth, delivered by Miles only two weeks after he’d come back off the disabled list, hit the dirt and went wild.
The winning run came home.
Walk-off victory for the Braves.
The home-team crowd had lost their minds, and the whole Atlanta team had stormed the field. It was a victory for the ages, absolutely. An unforgettable win.
It had just been for the wrong team.
Alice leaned into Alex, grabbing his arms and wrapping them around herself, snuggling into his warmth.
“Back to the real world tomorrow,” she said.
“So they tell me.”
Kevin and Liv had settled down into a more quiet pursuit, investigating the shells that littered the water’s edge. Kevin was explaining something about the shell in Liv’s cupped hands, and the kid was totally rapt.
Alice wasn’t ready to go back to normal life. They’d spent these three incredible weeks together, and in that whole time they’d barely talked about what would come after. During the last two months of the season, they’d been a typical long-distance couple, but now the season was over until February, and they still hadn’t figured out what was going to happen next.
It was too soon to talk about moving in together, way too soon. Yet they’d proven during their stay at the cabin that they shared a companionable ease in close quarters that gave her hope for the future.
“I’ve been thinking…” he began.
“That’s a dangerous pastime.”
“Tell me about it. My brain has been in agony all day.”
“I bet. So what have you been thinking?” Her heart kicked up its pace until she was sure he must be able to feel it hammering.