Rundown (Curveball Book 2)

  “We didn’t come by ambulance?”

  “Nope. I drove you. I wasn’t waiting another minute.”

  Drew wheels me out of the room. A few doors down the corridor, I notice several men in black suits with earpieces, standing outside a door.

  “Is that Mark’s room?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at Drew.

  “Yeah. Would you like to see him?”

  “Please.”

  Minutes later, Drew and I are granted access. He wheels me in and then kisses my cheek.

  “Call me when you’re done,” he says, and then leaves the room.

  When the door closes, I wheel myself closer to Mark, taking his hand in mine. Due to all the wires and the bandages over his eye, I can’t tell whether or not he’s awake.

  As I’m rubbing his knuckles, he flinches. “I wondered if you’d come.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” I ask.

  “Where should I begin?” he groans.

  “I’ll agree to forgive you if you can promise me that this is finally over.”

  “For the most part. Now it’s a matter of dealing with the aftermath.”

  “What does all of this mean for you?”

  “My days in the field are over. I guess it’s a good time to think about retiring. By this time tomorrow the whole world will know what happened, if they don’t already.”

  “Given everything you’ve sacrificed I know you must have loved your job…look at the bright side. You’ll get to have the kids back in your life.”

  “You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to that.”

  “They’re going to need some serious therapy.”

  “We all will,” he adds.

  A comfortable silence stretches between us while we remain holding hands. Knowing he’s tired, I pull out my phone to call Drew.

  “I’ll let you get some rest. When you’re up to it I’ll bring the kids by.” I start pulling my hand back until Mark squeezes it.

  “Why’d you do it? We had a plan.”

  “Honestly? I wasn’t sure that you’d protect Drew’s life with as much regard as you’d have protected mine. I was wrong though. I know you jumped in front of us and took that bullet…thank you for saving us, Mark.”

  “Before last night I wouldn’t have,” he admits. “Part of me was convinced we could work things out when this was over. After seeing his reaction to Dosdell threatening you, and again when he heard you were pregnant, I knew your future was with him.” Mark takes a moment and clears his throat. “Walking away from our family was the biggest mistake of my life. I’d give anything to go back in time.”

  “We can’t.”

  “I know that. You truly deserve to be happy.”

  “We both do.”

  “Maybe. I’ll never stop loving you though.”

  I squeeze his hand because I’m honestly not sure what to say. I do love him, though it’s not the same love he’s talking about.

  “Get some rest,” I say and text Drew that I’m ready. Unsurprisingly, he enters the room immediately.

  “Hey,” Mark calls to me when I’m at the door. “What was on the SD card you gave Dosdell?”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “A picture of me flipping off the camera.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Closure

  “It’s been three months since corrupt CIA agent Benedict Dosdell was identified as the mastermind of Innovation Airways ill-fated flight last October. Even in death, Dosdell is still causing turmoil as the members of the highly secretive Black Widow Threads organization, remain a mystery. In a joint effort between the FBI and CIA—”

  “Hey, I was watching that,” Breanne groans as I toss the remote on the couch.

  “You shouldn’t be watching that crap. As far as we’re concerned it’s over.”

  She rolls her eyes and sinks farther into the couch. “Really? Is that why we still need round the clock protection?”

  Even with Dosdell and Vivian six feet under, we’re still not out of danger. When Mark’s identity was publicly revealed, a number of threats were made on his life and Breanne’s. Who knows how long this will continue. If the FBI told us tomorrow that Everett and Corinne were no longer going to be providing us with protection, I’d offer to hire them myself.

  “They’re basically family at this point. Come on, you need to get up.”

  Normally I’d slide behind her, wrap my arms around her and seduce her with my charm. Given that she’s only wearing a black jersey wrap dress, I probably wouldn’t have to try all that hard…not that I need much effort these days. Her hormones are out of control and I’m enjoying reaping all the benefits. Too bad there’s no time today.

  “We need to get to the field early today. I promised the coaching staff that I’d answer a few questions before the game.” Grabbing her hand, I help her get on her feet, watching as her free hand automatically goes to her growing belly.

  “You sure you want to do this? I happen to know one of the reporters and let me tell you, she’s relentless,” she says with a smile.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, I know how to handle women. You’re a prime example.” I bend down and place both hands on either side of her stomach, peppering it with kisses. I’m in awe. She’s carrying my baby.

  Breanne tosses her head back, laughing. “Well in that case, let’s go. I want a front row seat.”

  The kids pile in the back of the minivan while I load my things into the trunk. As usual, I complain about having to drive this eyesore each and every time we need to go out as a group, though I’ve actually come to appreciate its functionality. There’s no way I’d ever admit it to Breanne, because let’s face it, what self-respecting 29 year-old man would admit to not only driving a minivan, but to liking it. Not an all-American major league baseball player, that’s for sure.

  When we get to the field it’s packed. Reporters from every major news station are present and despite what I said to Breanne, I’m a little apprehensive about this. Being my first press conference in a number of months, I’m slightly rusty with responding to criticism and anticipating the hard questions. I’m not even to the podium when the vultures attack.

  “Mr. Scott, over here! Mr. Scott!” the young reporter exclaims.

  “Ace! Aaaaace!” cries another.

  Why the hell did I agree to this?

  “You,” I say, pointing to the short brunette, who immediately squeals but says nothing. “Did, you want to ask a question?”

  “Uh huh. Ok, umm...” She takes a deep breath and loudly exhales. “Ok, I’ve got this,” she tells the raven-haired girl to her left. Having cleared her throat several times, she finally looks ready to begin. I take the opportunity to shoot a knowing glance to Breanne, who’s at my side.

  Still got it, baby.

  “Mr. Scott. In December you signed a twenty-one million dollar contract with Red Sox for three years…wow. That’s a lot of money.”

  The raven-haired girl to her left elbows her in the side. “Ouch, Olivia!” she sighs dramatically. “Ok, fans demand to know how you ended up playing with your rival, the Yankees.”

  Fighting a smile, I let my thoughts wander to a day two months ago and a conversation that changed everything.

  “That was one hell of a game!” Brett slapped me on the shoulder as I headed into the locker room. “A no hitter to end it,” he whistled through his teeth. “That was amazing. Well done, man.”

  “I want out.” I tossed my glove in my locker and grabbed my stuff for the shower.

  “Come again?” he asked.

  “I’m done.”

  “With what?”

  “Playing for the Sox. I’m done.”

  “If your arm’s bothering you we can get the specialist on the next available flight.” Brett’s speed picked up to match mine.

  I couldn’t blame him for trying. We were off to a great season and I had undoubtedly just played the best game of my career.

  “This has nothing to do with my elbow. I don’t n
eed more time to think about it. I’ve made up my mind.”

  “Wh-what? I…how…uhh…you need to rethink this man. That’s twenty-one million dollars!” Brett exclaimed. “You can’t leave now. You just started the season.”

  “I can do whatever the hell I want.”

  “What am I supposed to tell the Sox? You decided to retire mid-season? It’s not even mid-season yet!”

  Lifting my shirt over my head, I ignore him. He’s on a tirade, so there’s really no point in participating.

  “If you decide to come back a year or two from now, there’s no way you’ll get that kind of deal.”

  “Trust me, Brett. I’ve got a much sweeter deal at home.”

  “Listen, man. Breanne’s great. Really. That said, this is your career. Did she put you up to this?”

  “No. I’m doing this for me. She doesn’t even know I’m doing this.”

  “Why not? If things are so wonderful, shouldn’t she be part of the conversation?”

  “She’d try to talk me out of it just like you are.”

  We stop just outside the entrance to the showers.

  “You’ve been through a lot, I get it. Quitting isn’t the answer, Drew. I’ll talk to the management and see if we can get you a long weekend.”

  “That’s not enough. Brett…Breanne’s pregnant. I’m only going to get to experience this once and I’m not going to miss out on another minute. I’ve already missed one appointment. This is the kind of deal you don’t get another chance at. I don’t care about the money.”

  There was an uncomfortably long pause. He studies my face, likely trying to discern how serious I am.

  “I’m giving this another day before I notify the Red Sox management.”

  “If that’s what you want. I won’t change my mind though.”

  “Why’d you go through the hassle of spring training? You’ve only played one regular season game.”

  “My parents never saw me play a regular season game in my professional career before today, and neither did Breanne for that matter. In a way I did it for them and the fans…but I also did it for me. Besides, I wanted to go out on a high note.”

  With one hand on his hip and the other cupping his mouth, Brett strode in front of me for what felt like forever. When he stopped and starred at me blankly, I expected another round of arguing.

  “Congrats. I’m really happy for you,” he said, stepping forward to shake my hand. “Congrats on the baby and on your last win. If you decide to come back in a few years I’m sure we can make that work.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What the hell are you going to do with all your free time in between ultrasounds and Lamaze class?” Brett asked, amused.

  “I’m going to be a Yankee.”

  “A what?”

  The confused shock on his face was priceless.

  Bringing my attention back to the present, I address the reporter’s question.

  “It was an easy choice really. I’m originally a New Yorker and becoming a Yankee was one of my childhood dreams. Getting the opportunity to coach for them is a natural next step.”

  “Ace!” A spunky reporter in the front row demands my attention. The relentless one. Breanne squeezes my hands but I ignore them both and instead select a guy in the back row.

  “Yes, you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Scott. Today’s game against the Dodgers will be tough with Johnny Williams on their roster. Having led the league in home run’s last year, Johnny was quoted as saying the Yankee’s are ‘a joke’. Care to comment?”

  “Johnny Williams can—”

  Sharp claws dig into the palm of my hand. Damn woman!

  “It’ll be a great game,” I groan. “Next.”

  “Aren’t you too young to retire?” the reporter I’ve been avoiding shouts. “I mean, what could have been more important than your fans?”

  My head snaps to Breanne, who I’m positive is having a seizure…but no, it’s just her silent laughter.

  “My career in baseball is far from over, it’s evolved. There are plenty of ways to contribute to the sport without being on the pitching mound. I’m here today after all.” A few fans laugh. “To answer the second part of your question, I love my fans. They’ve been incredibly supportive. But nothing means more to me than my family.”

  Aubrey blushes as every female in the crowd ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’.

  Alright, so I don’t coach for the New York Yankees…I’m coaching Colin’s little league team. The kids were so psyched about it. When they came up with the idea for a mock opening day press conference, I couldn’t resist. Parents got to help their kids come up with questions, and even though Aubrey is technically too young to participate, she’s got a mind of her own.

  Breanne tugs at my arm forcing me to lean closer. Grinning from ear to ear, I await her praise for handling the crowd and my thoughtful comments.

  “Who were you trying to impress? The players or their mothers?”

  “The only woman I’d ever try to impress just drew blood from my hand. Besides, I think all the cougars can tell I’m taken.” I rub her protruding belly. She gets more beautiful the bigger her belly grows, and each time I look at her I think, I did that. I created life. I am the fucking man.

  “We should get you a ring.”

  “I have something better in mind.” I wink at her, loving her newfound jealous streak.

  Dismissing the thought for now, I return my attention to the crowd. “Alright everyone, I think that’s enough questions for now. Let’s play ball.”

  A few hours later, I’m standing in the middle of my bedroom, staring at the half-packed boxes that are littered around the room. Man, I hate packing. Had I not been double-crossed a handful of times I probably wouldn’t have minded professional movers touching my shit, but it is what it is. Finishing the box that contains my pictures and other important memorabilia, I decide I’ve had enough. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow and we’re leaving before sunrise. I should get home.

  Everett helps me load a few boxes into the car before I lock up. On the drive to Breanne’s I shoot her a text, letting her know I can pick something up for dinner if she wants. She responds with an all caps ‘YES’ followed by four exclamation marks. In her world, this is code for pizza.

  “You still going through with your plans for tonight?” Everett asks.

  “Yeah. Breanne’s father and Sarah agreed to watch the kids for a few hours.”

  “Does Breanne know yet?”

  “Not yet,” I reply with a smile.

  Her comment earlier today about me getting a ring was perfectly timed. We agreed not to get married until after the baby was born. Breanne wanted to look her best in her wedding gown, which is ridiculous. She could wear a paper bag and be stunning. I protested, wanting to make it official but when she reasoned that if we waited, all of the kids could be present for the ceremony and in the pictures, I relented. It made perfect sense.

  Being in a committed relationship doesn’t mean other people take a hint and back off, though. Breanne’s not typically the jealous type but lately a few female fans have gotten out of control. That’s why tonight I’m starting phase-one of my plan to make it publically clear that I’m off the market…ring or not. The next phase involves showing it off to the world when I grace the cover of Sports Illustrated next month.

  The evening is pure chaos from the moment I enter the door. The girls are fighting over a doll, Colin’s mad that he has to miss a friend’s birthday party this weekend because we’re going to New York, and Breanne’s frustrated that I won’t tell her where we’re going after dinner. Putting on a button up dress shirt does nothing to help the situation as she immediately thinks we’re going somewhere fancy and claims she has nothing nice to wear. Telling her to wear sweats only makes it worse. Overwhelmed, I almost cave…almost.

  With some help from her dad and Sarah, we finally make it out of the house. As we drive, Breanne takes a quick call from Mark, who’s reloc
ated to Washington D.C. following rehab. His commitment to his career hasn’t wavered despite being put on desk duty. When he left, I wasn’t sure what to expect in terms of his relationship with the kids and surprisingly it’s been ok.

  After the initial shock wore off, Colin and Aubrey were happy to accept him back into their lives. To be completely honest, I was jealous. I worried that the relationship I’d built with them would be overshadowed by their love for him, but it wasn’t. Yes, he’s their dad…but I’m their Ace.

  Aubrey started calling me Ace before Mark was back. At first I thought it was solely about baseball, and I was ok with that. But when I overheard her telling Colin that she called me Ace because I was the Sox number one pitcher and her number one guy, I fucking loved it. Now, they both call me Ace.

  Maddie’s a different story. She’s still confused as to how Mark fits into the picture. A part of me feels bad for the guy that she doesn’t remember him and continues to call me Daddy…it’s a very small part.

  “Everything ok?” I ask as Everett pulls up in front of a brick building in the center of Cambridge.

  “Yeah, we were just coordinating plans for next weekend. He’s bummed about not seeing them this weekend, but he understands.”

  Taking her hand, I help her out of the car and lead her to our location. I reach for the door at the same time she pulls her hand from mine.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask. Her brows are furrowed and she looks nervous.

  “This is where you’re taking me?” she questions.

  “Yup.”

  “Drew, I’m not—”

  “I am,” I clarify.

  Curious, she follows me inside. The man behind the counter, who I met a few days ago, gives me a bro-hug and leads us to a back room. Settling on the dentist-like chair, I get comfortable and begin unbuttoning my shirt. Breanne’s biting her lip, and I have to say I’m enjoying this. Pushing the fabric aside to expose my chest, I lean forward, grab her hand and place it over my heart.