by Alice Ward
“Are you sure?” I asked as he kissed the back of my neck.
He nodded, but his shit-eating grin didn’t ease my worries of the dress being a little inappropriate.
The ceremony was short, just a few words from the director of the funeral home. Mr. Newman was dressed, presented in the casket as if he was going to be placed in the ground. After we left, he would be cremated, placed in an urn, and then the three siblings could start their arguing over where to place his ashes.
Ace was solemn throughout the ceremony. Eve was loudly crying, blowing her nose every few seconds. Brady looked to be complacent in an eerie way.
From the corner of my eye, I could see paparazzi cameras just outside the windows. They swarmed the entrance, and Ace appeared more anxious than usual at their presence. I understood it was his father’s funeral, and he wanted privacy, but they were always pushing into his personal life. He just normally handled it with more confidence. Today, his hands were shaking as he pulled the Porsche out of the small parking lot.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He nodded, but I wasn’t convinced.
He turned on the radio so we could listen to the game. The Beasts had just taken the field against the Blue Jays. Maybe that was the problem. He was missing opening day, but it felt like more than just that.
Missing his touch, I reached over and placed my hand on the one resting on the gear shift. It was clammy, cold, and still quivering. I looked at his face, studying the involuntary twitches around his eyes and mouth, the pale skin, and the sweat beading up on his forehead.
“Are you high?” I asked softly.
He jerked his hand away from mine. “No, I’m not fuckin’ high. Nice, Holly.” He was so agitated that his voice cracked when he spoke.
I was going to ask him if he was sick, but he turned up the radio and the game blared through the speakers, shutting me down from asking any more questions. It was a long ride home.
He pulled up in front of Whitney and Calvin’s and helped me out of the car. He pulled my suitcase from the trunk and reached for my hand. He walked me to the door of my little cottage, seeing it for the first time.
“This is really nice,” he said, looking around, his hands deep in his pockets.
It had been a rough day, so I was trying my best to not take his coldness or his agitation personally, but it wasn’t easy.
I unlocked the door, walked inside, and motioned for Ace to put the suitcase on the living room floor. I moved towards him, sliding my arms around his waist and gave him a long, tight hug. His hands caressed my back, his head pressed down against mine, but I could still feel the vibration under his skin.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my face pressed against his hard chest.
“Me too,” he said softly.
I lifted my head, stared up at him as he looked down at me so sadly. “What are you sorry for?”
“Everything.”
“Ace, I’m worried about you. You look sick.”
He really did. Still pale. Still shaky.
“Yeah, I don’t feel too good,” he confessed. “I better get home and get ready for tomorrow.”
I pulled out of his tight embrace. My eyes lingered on his that were only filled with sadness, and I decided not to push him. He didn’t need me adding pressure to him right now.
“Go. Finish listening to the game and get some rest,” I said as cheerfully as I could.
He seemed to calm a bit at the lifted pressure. He nodded and gave me a soft kiss on the lips. “Thanks again for being there for me.” He kissed me again, soft and lingering, then turned and walked out the door. And maybe my life.
My stomach churned and nausea bubbled in my throat, so I laid down and turned the TV to the sports channel. The Beasts were up 6-2. Not bad boys!
I pulled my phone from my purse and sent Whitney a text.
Me: You at the game?
Whitney: Yes, boys are doing great!
Me: I see that!
Whitney: You home?
Me: Yes. Just walked in. It was a sad trip. We NEED to talk when you get home.
Whitney: Ugh, okay.
She already knew what I wanted to talk about, she had to. She knew me better than I knew myself, so yeah, she had to know.
I scrolled through all the missed calls from Jack and reread the texts he’d sent while I was gone. I should’ve never let him come over here. Or get into my bed. This was a mess. He was obviously much more into me than I was him. I needed to be honest with him. I just couldn’t open my heart to anyone else right now.
My stomach churned, and I placed my hand on it, wondering what else besides indigestion lay under it.
My period was late by a couple days. Okay, I was late by almost a week. I’d been sick, but not just in the morning. Maybe it was just stress, and my paranoia was getting the better of me. I hope so.
Whitney wasn’t much help when she got home. She rolled her eyes when I told her about my night with Ace. I tried my best to explain the change, the difference. I even told her about Jack, and how awkward I’d felt with him.
“You just don’t want to give Jack a chance.”
She was right. I was still hung up on Ace. That was obvious.
“He was fuckin’ high Holly, at his dad’s funeral no less!”
I’d told her about his odd behavior, which actually wasn’t so off in hindsight.
“He looked more sick than high,” I argued.
“Maybe he was just coming down from it. People get sick when they withdraw.” She was unwilling to give Ace any benefit of doubt at this point.
But he’d been with me, in bed, holding me. When would he have had time to get high? I didn’t want to believe it, to believe her. I wanted to believe that he really did love me. That he really did want me… more than he wanted drugs.
***
The days passed slowly, but I stayed busy working on wedding details and perfecting the roses I’d use on her wedding cake. It was good that I was busy, but the stress was making me sick.
I’d reached for my phone a thousand times, wanting to call Ace, but always forcing myself to stop. I couldn’t push him. Just because we loved each other didn’t mean we could be together. I knew I couldn’t push him.
When another week had passed and I still hadn’t heard from him, I stopped crying. Stopped wishing. Stopped hoping. What I didn’t stop was throwing up several times a day. But I couldn’t face the truth of what I suspected. Too bad ignorance really wasn’t bliss.
Oh my God, it’s beautiful,” Whitney said as she came crashing into my kitchen, tossing some bags on the table. I’d been working on a new technique while listening to the game. I had to listen, not watch. It was too hard watching Ace on the screen. He was doing well. Really well. In fact, the Beasts were rocking this season and sitting at the top of the league.
“You really love it?” I asked, turning the cake around to see it from every direction.
“It’s gorgeous. These flowers look so real.” She leaned down to smell them and got icing on her nose.
Tossing her a towel to wipe it off, I said, “Aren’t you all going out to celebrate the win?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Calvin is for a little while, but my head was pounding, so I decided to just come home.”
I felt her forehead. She wasn’t hot, but she was a little pale. “Have you taken anything?”
“Yeah, for my sinuses.” She pressed her fingertips to her cheekbones. “Tis the season.”
I fake sneezed. “Yep. Pollen is a killer.”
My phone vibrated, and I snatched it from the table, then sighed and set it back down.
“Not Ace?” Whitney asked.
I shook my head. “Jack.”
Whitney blew out a breath but didn’t say anything more. She knew I wasn’t ready for anything with him. I’d been honest with him after getting back from the funeral, but that hadn’t stopped him from checking in on me. He really was a nice guy.
“Here, I brought Chine
se,” she said, grabbing one of the bags she’d tossed on the table. She opened it up and started setting out the little white cartons. My mouth watered when she revealed some of my favorites. Then the smell hit me…
Shit!
Jumping up, I ran to the bathroom and tossed what little was in my stomach into the toilet. Whitney was right behind me, her hands holding my hair from my face.
“Are you pregnant?” she asked, saying the word I’d refused to say myself.
I wiped my mouth and face with the wet cloth she handed me, then rested against the tub while she sat down in the velvet vanity chair.
“I’m not sure.”
She sighed and pushed my hair back from my face. “How late are you?”
“Two weeks,” I admitted in a small voice, ashamed of myself for not facing the truth.
“Did you forget to use a condom?” she asked softly and I was thankful she wasn’t in full interrogation mode. I could see the sympathy in her eyes. The worry. The love.
“No, we used them every time, but…”
She stroked my hair. “But what?”
“But after our first time together in Florida, there was a tear. It wasn’t big, so I convinced myself that…”
“You need to see a doctor. You need a pregnancy test and a full STD screening.”
I shook my head. “Ace got tested, he’s clean.”
Whitney snorted. “That’s unfuckingbelievable.”
I lifted a shoulder. “He’s a condom fanatic. He said that no kid would want him for a father.”
Whitney’s face softened. “That’s terrible. Holly, if you are pregnant, what are you going to do?”
I knew what she was asking me. Keep it? Abort it? Give it away?
I placed my hand over my belly and tears pricked the back of my eyes. The timing would be terrible. The circumstances even worse. But if a little Ace was growing inside me, I would love and care for it like no baby had ever been loved or cared for.
Just like that, I was on the floor, sobbing. Whitney was on the floor, sobbing too. We held onto each other like best friends do.
My butt was numb from the hard tile by the time I pulled myself together enough to stand on shaky legs. Whitney looked just as shaky as me.
“I’m going to the pharmacy to buy some tests,” she said firmly, then held up a finger when I tried to protest. “I’ll be right back.”
In the kitchen, I put on a kettle for some tea… and waited.
When she got back, I peed on the stick… and waited.
Three minutes later, it was confirmed. I was going to have a baby. Ace’s baby.
I was going to be a mother.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ace
The summer of my life was also my summer of hell.
On the field, I was a Beast.
Off the field was another matter altogether.
It was the last day of August, and I hadn’t seen Holly in months. Not that I didn’t want to. God, I wanted to. I couldn’t because she would know I hadn’t kept my promise to her. She’d see it in my eyes. On my face. In every move I made.
She knew me too well, and I couldn’t take seeing the disappointment in her eyes.
From Calvin, I’d found out the address of the little store she and Whitney had found. I bought it for her before anyone else could, but she didn’t know it yet. Because I wasn’t clean.
I’ll probably never be clean.
So Holly’s dream just sat in my safe, waiting for a day that probably would never come. For her or for me.
On the field, we were still ahead in our league, taking down team after team. We were the darlings of the media. Coach and Rhett were thrilled. Every guy on our team was bringing it every game.
Including me — with a little pharmaceutical support.
Calvin stood on the mound, tall and proud. I watched his fingers roll around the leather and trace the seam. The batter was a leftie, and there was a man on base ready to steal, so I knew I had to be ready.
He wound up and let go with a powerful pitch. The crack was deafening when the bat made contact with his knuckleball. It went high, and I ran backward, trying to keep my eyes from watering as I looked up at the sun. Everything turned into a blur, the sun blinding me as I held up my glove in search of the ball. They had two strikes, we needed this.
C’mon, Ace, dig deep.
With one more step backward, the sun released my eyes from its painful trance and the ball was falling from the sky right where I’d judged it would. It dropped into my glove like a gift from the Gods, and the fans went wild.
Calvin was the first one to grip me around the waist and lift me from my feet. “Good fuckin’ job, wild man,” he shouted, crazy with excitement.
He hadn’t been so friendly lately, because of Holly I knew. So it felt good to see him happy, and even better to know it was because I’d put that smile on his face. I patted him on the back as he put me on my feet, then lost my smile as I felt the tiny package of cocaine slide from my cup and inch its way down my leg. Fuck!
For anyone looking at my life from the outside, it still looked like one giant party. What they didn’t know was that I went home alone every night, drinking my sorrows away, forcing myself down from a high so I could sleep a little and do it all over again the next day.
I needed the coke to play. That was the bottom line.
It was the bottom of the ninth, and the Braves’ last chance at redemption. We were up 12-6, a steep lead, so they had some work to do. My body was slowing down, and I missed a hard grounder, letting one man steal while another got on base. Coach yelled something at me — I didn’t know what and I didn’t care. I just focused on the next batter.
The next three batters all got base hits, loading them up like a baked potato at TGI Fridays. And just like that it was 12-8. C’mon, Calvin. Fuck. We had to win this one, had to. Looking toward the bullpen, I didn’t see a relief pitcher warming up. Calvin must be tired. Why was he even still in the game? What was Coach thinking?
Singleton showed up at the plate ready to rumble. He was a massive guy, just a few inches shy of seven feet. The man loved to swing left-handed, even though he could hit a mean ball with his right as well. Calvin had issues with him before, offering up a home run ball to him on several occasions. We couldn’t afford that now. Not if we were gonna stay number one in the league. I could taste the victory already, as well as the drugs draining down my throat.
Calvin wasn’t fucking around, throwing out his first pitch at just under one hundred mph. Hell yeah, maybe Calvin still had the stuff. The look on Singleton’s face when he missed that by just a nanosecond was priceless. He shifted at the plate, spit over his shoulder and then stared Calvin down.
Another swing and a miss. This time, it was a slower pitch, curved and designed to look faster than it actually was, often tripping batters up. This was it. We could win the game right here, or possibly tie it up and end up handing it to them in a designer basket.
Another fastball, and this time contact was made, and that fucker shot back like a missile coming in my direction. Instinct kicked in, and I caught it, the blast of it stinging my palm even through the mitt.
The team was on cloud nine. It was like we were unstoppable. Coach congratulated us, even patted me on the back with a smile. Everyone was celebrating in the clubhouse, dancing to the loud music blaring from the sound system and planning their next victory against Detroit.
“You goin’ out for a beer tonight?” Luke asked from behind me.
“Nah. I need to get some rest.”
Luke shook his head with a smirk. “Gettin’ old and soft, wild man.”
I knew he was teasing, but those were scary words — old and soft.
“I can’t believe you’re not gonna hit up the Atlanta clubs tonight,” Calvin said, laying an arm over my shoulders.
“I’m trying to straighten up my act.” I smirked, making the lie a little more believable.
He grinned bigger. “Oh yeah? Thinking ab
out settling down, are ya?”
“You seem to like it.”
“Yes. Yes, I do, very much.” Calvin had a look in his eyes that I was beginning to envy. He was at peace, happy, and wasn’t afraid of his future, but looked forward to it. “You thinking about Holly?”
My smile faded a bit. I had a baggie of cocaine sliding down my leg, enough in my system to kill a small horse, so at this moment, no, it wasn’t about Holly. It couldn’t be.
“How’s she doin’?” I asked.
“She’s been baking a lot. I guess her business is taking off.”
Shit. “Oh. She get a place?”
“No. She found this place… actually, the place I told you about. She really liked it, but somebody bought it before we had a chance to.”
Guilt blossomed in my chest. I was keeping her from her dreams.
“What’s she going to do?” I asked him.
He lifted a shoulder. “She got the permits to bake out of her kitchen. Seems to be doing well, so she’ll probably keep doing that for a while.”
He wouldn’t look me in the eye when he said it, so I wondered what he was keeping from me.
“Have you tried calling her lately?” he prodded, but I shook my head, unable to look at him.
“She deserves better than me. I just don’t think I’m the man she needs.”
“You know you could be. Look at ya now. You’re a Beast, not just because the name’s on your back, but because you have torn the shit out of the league this season,” Calvin encouraged.
“Kickin’ ass and takin’ names.” I laughed, trying to play the I’m okay game.
Calvin turned to me, his expression serious. “What I’m trying to say is that you are the right man for her. Probably the only one. If… you’d pull your head out of your ass.”
“So, she’s not seeing anyone else?”
His expression was still serious. “No. Not at all. Call her.”
Before I could ask anything else, he slapped me on the back and walked away. I headed to the bathroom to find a private stall and dig the baggy of cocaine from my pant leg. The demon powder that stood between Holly and me.