That's what motherhood is—a lifelong bond between mother and child that defies explanation. Her love for Luke rises above everything, even her illness. It's powerful, eternal.
My eyes start to well up because I'll never get to fully experience what that's like. Any chance I had of having a child of my own has passed. And being in this room, with Luke's mom clinging to me, I do something I haven't done in a long time. I have an ugly cry and just let it all out. Tears are streaming down my face. My nose is running. My breath's coming out in jagged spurts. And Luke's mom doesn't even pick up her head this time, she just holds on to me, as I hold on to her.
"What is it, dearie?" she whispers once I begin to quiet. "Why are you so sad?"
Do I dare tell her? It'd be so nice to get it off my chest and have someone listen to me.
I blink up at the ceiling, trying to piece the words together. "I was a mom, too."
"It's dark out." She shivers. "Why aren't you home with your kids?"
I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. "Well, I still consider myself a mom, even though I never actually gave birth. One of my babies was stillborn, and the other…"
Twisting up her face, she thumps her fist on the bed. "What? Why?"
"Well." I exhale deeply. "You were right when you said, 'He hit her too," because my husband at the time used to beat me up whenever he got mad. My baby was stillborn because he kicked me in the stomach."
She lifts her eyes to mine. "No man has the right to hit a woman."
I nod, swallowing back my tears. "That's why I divorced him. But he never really accepted that it was over. He's done stuff, terrible stuff, and I'm afraid, Mrs. S. I'm afraid of what he's gonna do next."
She kisses the top of my head. "Don't worry. My Lukey will protect you."
I let out a shaky laugh. "I know he'd try, Mrs. S., but if you only knew who my ex-husband is…"
"Lukey's not afraid of anybody," she shushes me, pushing my head down onto her shoulder and stroking my hair. "He doesn't back down from a fight. I bandaged his cuts. I iced his bruises. I know."
My mind is bombarded with a barrage of images, the clip of him getting hit, the scar on his neck, the fear in his eyes before he left for the stadium. He's already taken David on—and lost. I can't let him do it again, not for my sake.
"But if he hurts you…or Luke…" I gasp for air. "I could never forgive myself."
"Have faith in my son," she says, her voice suddenly strong and sure. "He never lets anyone down. He won't let you down either."
I glance up at her, and she smiles at me, her eyes the most lucid I've ever seen them. It's like she's still right here with me, cognizant and aware. Until she pats my cheek and crawls behind me, getting back under the covers.
"I'm going to bed now. Can you close the window?" she sighs, shutting her eyes, thoroughly exhausted from our conversation.
I immediately feel the loss of her, even though we're still in the same room together. I'm so affected by it that I can't imagine how tough these moments must be on Luke. Alzheimer's patients are here one minute, gone the next. It wreaks havoc on your heart like nothing else can, especially when it involves the love of a parent.
Sliding the window down, I flip the lever on top, locking it, and stare out into the night. David's in town for the next two days, and I'm not taking any chances.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Luke
I go down the line and fist-bump my teammates, celebrating our three-game sweep of the Clash. We'll have to battle it out with them again in August, but for now, victory is sweet.
"Twinge in his elbow, my ass," Hoff mutters behind me as we walk off the field.
Danny starts ambling backward. "Yeah, and he had to go all the way back to New York for an MRI? Bullshit. You're the only guy he ended up pitching to, Hoff."
Rob jogs up to us and squeezes my head through my cap. "That's 'cause he's scared of our boy here."
I shove his hand away. "C'mon, guys. It's not over, not by a long shot. Do you really think that it was his decision to come out of the game? I don't. There's a ton of bad publicity surrounding him right now. But once things cool off—which they always do—he'll be back, ready to go."
Hoff pounds his glove. "And we'll be ready for him."
"And here I thought the old man hated all of us," Rob jokes. "But just mention a brawl, and he's all over it."
Danny nudges Rob's shoulder. "Did you see his eyes light up? He can't wait for the dog days of August to roll around."
Hoff shrugs. "When it comes to choosing sides…yeah, I'll stand with punks like you over a headhunter like him any day. 'Cause no player has the right to mess with a guy's career. I've suffered enough concussions to know that."
"So that's why you are the way you are," I rib him. "One busted head too many?"
He smacks me on the back as he passes by. "Watch it, kid. Just 'cause I'll go to bat for ya doesn't mean I have to like ya."
Rob and Danny snicker as they follow him into the dugout, but I stop when I spot Roberta and Mom. A steady stream of warmth flows through me at seeing them there. It's been a rough few days all around, getting stressed out over nothing. But Roberta seems like herself again, and I'm really glad of it. I'm just about to hoist myself over the fence and join them when an annoying voice cuts through the air.
"I know who you are, now! You're David Nichols's ex-wife, aren't you?"
Heidi smiles brightly at Roberta, and my blood burns red-hot. In one swift leap, I'm up and over the other side, inserting myself in between them.
"Nice try, Heidi." I glower down at her. "Now get outta here."
Heidi ignores me, studying Roberta intently. "Although, she did have blond hair then…"
"Luke, I—" Roberta starts.
But I'm not done with Heidi, not by a long shot. I stalk toward her, getting her to back up. "Really? That's the best you can do?"
Her eyes flicker at me in amusement. "She went by a different name then. What was it? Oh yeah…Bobbie Jo."
I halt in my tracks because with that one careless remark, Heidi successfully sews a poisonous seed of doubt in my mind. The only person I ever heard refer to Roberta by that name was Landry, a man she trusts with her life.
Heidi gleefully claps her hands. "I knew I was right."
"You have no proof!" Roberta cries as Mom begins to stir beside her.
"I don't?" Heidi scoffs, whipping out her phone and shoving it in my face. "Luke, tell me that's not her."
I feel the weight of Roberta's eyes boring into my back, and I can't bring myself to look at it.
"Luke…" Heidi whines. "C'mon."
Roberta advances toward her. "Just what exactly are you showing him?"
"Your wedding photo," she gloats. "Don't tell me you don't remember walking down the aisle on your big day?"
"And I'm just supposed to believe that what you're showing me is real?" I argue back heatedly. "For all I know, you could've had someone Photoshop her face onto someone else's body."
Heidi rolls her eyes. "Like I'd go to all that trouble."
Roberta eyes me sadly before taking the phone out of Heidi's hand. "Yeah, but you'd go through the trouble of hunting it down in the first place." Holding it up to me, her voice starts to crack when she says, "Go ahead, Luke. See for yourself."
Forcing myself to look, there's no mistaking her clear blue eyes, the determined set of her chin, her arms wrapped around the man who nearly ended my life. And it tears me apart inside, not because she kept it from me, but because I hate having to see her so in love with someone who isn't me, someone as ruthless as David Nichols.
Heidi shrugs. "I found it on a blog that keeps tabs on all the wives and girlfriends of Major League Baseball players."
"A site you frequent often?" Roberta mutters in disgust. "Trust me, being a player's wife isn't all it's cracked up to be. I think I'd find another ticket out of Stockton if I were you."
"Well, I'd do a much better job holding on to my man than you did," Heidi retorts. "Wh
at, were you married to Nichols for like six months or something?"
I turn Heidi's phone over and stare at Roberta. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
"How could I?" she whispers back.
And that's when the whole picture snaps into place inside my head: her passing mention of an ex-husband, the revelation that she was deathly afraid of someone, her reticence to pursue whatever feelings she may have for me. It all adds up. She really was married to that monster.
I flex my jaw. "Why did you leave him? What did he do to you?"
"Nothing."
I glance up at her stricken expression, and my heart stops at the truth she's no longer able to conceal from me. She may have been in love with him at one time, but now more than anything, she's terrified of him. And if what he did to me in public is any indication of how cruel he can be, I can't imagine what he must've done to her in private. And it kills me knowing she was bound to a brute like him.
"He's a bad man!" Mom yells, stomping her foot. "He is. He is. He is."
"Mrs. S., shhhh…" Roberta whispers.
But I know the signs when Mom is trying very hard to remember something important. Roberta must've confided in her…but what?
"Ma," I encourage, blindly passing the phone back to Heidi. "Why is he a bad man? What did he do?"
She angles her head to look at me. "Who?"
Heidi snorts. "Good one."
Mom lets out a pitiful whimper, and Roberta's quick to intervene. "Stop it. You're upsetting her."
Heidi bends down and coos in Mom's face, "Awww, Mrs. Singleton. Are you okay?"
"Get away from my mother, Heidi," I warn.
"But Luke, something's wrong with her."
Roberta steps in, enfolding her arm around Mom. "We'll meet you out by the car, okay?"
All I can do is nod when she starts guiding her toward the exit, Mom's face buried in the crook of her neck.
Enraged, I round on Heidi. "Happy now?"
"What?" she sniffs. "I was only trying to help."
"No. You weren't," I reply with blunt honesty. "You just wanted to stir up trouble, just like you always do. But we're not in high school anymore, Heidi. It's about time you grew up."
"You'll be sorry you treated me like this," she fumes. "'Cause I know a lot of people around Stockton, as well as certain individuals in the Beavers' organization, who would be very interested to hear that your mom's gone off the deep end."
I'm not about to let her get away with that, and I reach for her arm. "Don't you dare say a word to anyone about her."
"Or what? What are you gonna do, Luke?" Her eyes take on a devious gleam. "Hit me?"
I immediately let go of her arm. I don't threaten women, that's not who I am, even one as manipulative as her.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," she laughs, breezing by me. "I think ensuring my silence entitles me to a lot more than your contempt, don't you?" When I don't say anything, her voice takes on a much harder edge. "Face it, Luke. Bobbie Jo…Roberta…whatever you wanna call her…is damaged goods. Nichols has her so beaten down and scared of her own shadow that she couldn't even tell you she was married to him. Is that really what you want, when you can have a woman on your arm who's confident enough to be honest with you about who she is?"
I clench my teeth, willing myself not to get in a shouting match with her. She saunters up the steps, grinning back at me, thinking she has me right where she wants me, under her thumb.
But she has another thing coming if she thinks I'm giving up on Roberta so easily. She'll always be my fearless girl, whether she's still traumatized by Nichols or not. All I can do is hope against hope that, whatever she went through with him, she'll find the courage—the courage I know she possesses—to find it in her heart to open up to me about what he did to her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Roberta
Never lie to a good man about your past. It may seem like the right idea at the time, but you'll only end up hurting him in the end. Take heed and listen—he's the one who deserves your trust, not the one who came before him. A bad man can warp your heart, but a good man can open it up again. Don't deceive him like you were deceived. The both of you deserve better than that.
I underline the last sentence, once, twice, three times. I can't turn my mind off, no matter how hard I try. I really botched things up with Luke, and the only comfort I can give myself now is to tell my imaginary daughter not to make the same mistake I did.
So I'm surprised when there's a knock at my door. It's late, really late, but I slide out of bed and tiptoe across the room. Hesitating, I rest my cheek against the door and whisper, "Yeah?"
Luke's husky rasp greets my ear. "It's me… Can I come in?"
"Why…does your mom need me for something?"
"No, she's fine."
I panic, terrified of the finality of what this could mean. "I don't know, Luke. Now's not exactly a good time."
But his deep, soothing voice reverberates through me. "I'm not asking as your boss. I'm asking as your friend."
We didn't talk at all on the way home. I was too busy trying to calm his Mom down. Yet after putting her to bed, I knew he was downstairs watching TV, and I didn't join him. I didn't even bother saying goodnight. I made the conscious effort to avoid him by sneaking into my room.
And now he's standing outside my door in the middle of the night, just as restless as I am. It's pointless trying to convince myself I can hide from him. But, God…what must he think of me now?
"Roberta," he sighs. "Please…"
Slowly, I crack the door open, only to lose myself in the churning depths of those soulful, brownish-green eyes. I can't move. I can't think. We just stare at each other, to the point where I'm unnerved enough to ask, "What…no tea?"
He shakes his head ever so slightly. "Not tonight."
"Oh…" Fidgeting, I clutch the deep neckline of my top, suddenly self-conscious.
"Bobbie Jo…" he whispers, catching himself. "Is it all right if I call you Bobbie Jo?"
I nod, leaning against the door and holding it open for him. Oh, I love how my name sounds coming from his lips—but I can't tell him that, not now. Instead, my gaze drifts down to his shorts, and as usual, they're hitting him well below his knees. But I'm no longer comparing him to some physical ideal of what the perfect man should be. I only see him and how much I'm responding to his presence in my bedroom, my body completely attuned to his.
"Thank you," he says, stepping forward, his sleeve lightly skimming my arm.
Blushing, I press my forehead to the door as I close it behind him, needing a second or two. "Please…you don't have to thank me."
He takes in the state of my rumpled sheets and sticks his hands in his pockets, shuffling his feet. "Umm…about before…"
I glance over at him cautiously. "Luke, I know you have every right to fire me, but please, I beg you—hear me out. I'll go, but I can't walk away until you've hired someone to replace me. Your mom's care is what's important here, not what happens to me."
He walks toward my bed and stares down at my journal. My heart just about stops when he picks it up and turns it over. "What's this?"
I approach him, reaching for it. "Nothing."
But he's too fast for me and hides it behind his back. "More secrets, Bobbie Jo?"
"No…" I stab at it, but he just holds it above my head. "It's just…personal."
"Yeah, I know all about getting personal," he mutters. "I let you into my home. I shared with you everything there is to know about Mom. And yet—"
"I'm sorry, okay? It was wrong of me to keep it from you. I just didn't know how you'd take it. I didn't want you to hate me."
A sharp line forms between his brows. "Hate you?"
"Yeah," I mumble. "Not that you don't have every right to hate me."
He puts my journal back down on the bed. "Is that what you think?" And when he looks up at me, the hurt in his eyes is even more pronounced than before. "I could never hate you."
"
But after what David did—"
He moves closer to me, his eyes never leaving my face. "That was him. As far as I'm concerned, it has nothing to do with you."
I clasp my arms tightly to my chest. "But I was married to him, Luke. Some part of you has to blame me for that."
He slowly lets out the breath he was holding. "Just tell me. Was Mom right in what she said about him?"
"Do you really have to ask?" I whisper. "Because I think you already know the answer to that."
Placing his hands on my elbows, he peers deeply into my eyes. "But I want to hear it from you."
I jerk away from him. "Trust me. You don't want to know."
He remains silent as I head toward the window and look out, my eyes drifting up and down the street, searching for anything that seems out of place. David will never stop hunting me. He may have retreated for now, but he'll be back. And I'm determined not to be here when he returns. Meeting my reflection in the glass, I know what I have to do. "Luke, now that he knows I'm here, I can't stay. It's not safe…for you or your mom."
He crosses the room in two strides and spins me around to face him. "You're not going anywhere, you hear me?"
But there's no denying the fear in his eyes, and I push back against his arms. "How can you say that when you're afraid of him, yourself?"
"You've got it all wrong. I'm not afraid of him." Sliding me between his arms, he locks his hands behind my waist. "I'm afraid of you. You leaving me and going some place where I won't be able to protect you."
I struggle against him because it's inconceivable that I'll ever be able to lay down this burden I've been carrying around for so long. Life doesn't work that way. I'd just be another problem for him to have to deal with, one he doesn't need.
"You don't have to keep me safe, Luke. I can watch out for myself."
He hugs me to him. "You're not alone in this anymore. You've got me now, and I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."
Single (Stockton Beavers #1) Page 15