Swing For The Fences (Bad Boys Redemption Book 2)

by Kimberly Readnour

  He leans closer and hesitates momentarily before placing his lips on mine, soft and gentle. The kiss starts slow and tentative, as if he’s gauging my reaction. But I’ve missed this. The secureness his strong arms bring when he holds me. My body betrays me as I part my mouth and allow him access.

  His hands shimmy along my sides and squeeze into my flesh as he deepens the kiss. Our tongues explore each other like this is our first time, or more like the last time, being together. The intensity grows more desperate, my body aching for him. If only our problems could be solved by a kiss. Then everything would be okay.

  Tears spring to the surface as the realization crashes into me. I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to let him go, but there isn’t much choice. I start shaking my head, slow at first, but he tries to hold me there. Tries to kiss our problems away, but it becomes too much. I break away with a slight gasp.

  “Don’t do this.” He pulls me closer and wraps his arm around me, burrowing his nose in my hair. A sob escapes from deep inside my chest. I clutch his shirt as he tightens his hold. “Don’t leave me. Please, not this time.”

  There’s something heart-wrenching when a strong, burly man who has enough confidence to fill ten stadiums cracks beneath you and practically begs you to stay. It’s enough to bring you to your knees. But if I cave, it only puts off the inevitable. The foreseeable future. I stay tucked in his arms, holding on to the last few moments until I garner control over my emotions again. “We need to talk.”

  He glances toward the living room. “Where’s Mel?”

  “I sent her to Ms. Neely’s. We’re alone.”

  He nods and grabs hold of my hand as we make our way to the couch. There’s so much that needs to be said I don’t know where to begin. I go with being direct.

  “Did you ever sleep with her?” The question needs to be asked. He denied sleeping with her when she took the pictures, but I need to look deep into those eyes while he answers.

  “No.” The conviction in his voice and gaze is strong and believable. I breathe out a sigh of relief.

  “Has she contacted you since claiming she’s pregnant?”

  “No. Not once. She’s actually missing.”

  “Missing?”

  “Not in a picture-on-the-milk-carton type missing, but the reporters haven’t been able to contact her. I think she’s laying low somewhere.”

  “You do realize the timeframe places conception during spring training.”

  “I didn’t fuck her.”

  I nod and drop my gaze to my lap.

  “You have to believe me.” He places his hand under my chin, desperation heavy in his voice.

  “I do believe you, but the damage is done. Do you realize my kids are being teased because of this?”

  His jaw clamps shut, and he drops his hand beside him, fingers tightening into a fist. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

  “Even though it’s not your fault, I don’t see how we can continue.”

  “It will pass as soon as the next scandal surfaces.”

  “That’s just it, what if the next scandal is us again?”

  “It won’t be.”

  “You can’t guarantee that. Remember when we started dating back in college? Women flaunted themselves in front of you—one, in particular, Marissa. Remember her?” I don’t give him time to answer, I plow forward. “She was at the birthday party when the news broke. The way she looked at me…I can handle the adults. But when it spills over to my children, I can’t.”

  “This was a one-time occurrence.”

  “That’s hurting my kids. Our relationship isn’t worth the risk of losing them.”

  His face slackens as he shifts away from me. “I would never ask you to choose me over your kids, but for this to work, we both have to put in effort.”

  “What do you mean, we? You’re the one with another woman in your bed.”

  He lets out a frustrated breath. I know I’ve hurt him, but what does he expect? There was a selfie with a half-naked woman snuggled against him.

  “I was asleep. AJ brought her home. Not me.”

  “I know, but I can’t do this. I have kids to think about. Carl keeps threatening to take them away, I can’t lose them.”

  “And you really think he’ll go through with it? He won’t even keep them the entire weekend. He’s waiting in your driveway before you get back from work.”

  “Yeah, well, he wants to get back together.”

  His face turns to stone, and I immediately regret leading him to believe this is what I want. I don’t. But if I don’t do something drastic, I’ll end up caving. And I can’t cave. This relationship needs to end before I sink deeper.

  “You’d actually consider that? After everything we’ve been through? Everything he put you through?”

  “I don’t know, okay? It’s not all about me. And what we have going on is hard, especially now with the claim she’s pregnant—”

  “If that woman’s pregnant, the child isn’t mine.” He springs off the couch and starts pacing.

  “How do you know, Jax?”

  “Because I didn’t fuck her.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I know you don’t understand, but I have to think of my kids. Getting back with their father would be the best thing for them.”

  “You said yourself that you didn’t want them seeing a loveless marriage.”

  “I think they need stability right now. They can’t get that with you. You said you wouldn’t prevent their happiness.”

  He stops mid-step, his back toward me. I may not be able to see his expression, but I can tell by his stiffened posture that I struck a nerve. And it rips me apart. But this needs to end now.

  After an excruciatingly long moment, he throws his hands up in the air and turns to face me. “You know what, forget it. Forget all of this. I’m tired of fighting with you. If you can’t let go of the past and live without the constant fear of your ex, it will never work between us.”

  “You’re right. And it’s better this way.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because it’s inevitable.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  “It’s what I know. One day you’ll want kids of your own, and you’ll see that I’m right. My kids will always come first.”

  He opens his mouth but then clamps it shut. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. But you know what, if you can’t trust me, or let this shit go, then this was all for nothing. You’re right. I would never ask you to choose me before the kids.”

  My throat thickens with sobs as he storms out, the slamming door crumbling the last piece of reserve. This is for the best. It is. He’ll want his own kids someday. An heir to carry on his surname, and I certainly can’t give him that. I clutch the pillow to my chest and curl into a ball. Letting him go is the hardest thing I’ve done. But it’s for the best. For all of us in the long run.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  JAX

  Current Day

  The stadium buzzes for the first time since the first inning. A tightly pitched game, Chicago leads with a score of one to zero. Gonzalez comes to bat with a runner aboard first. I step into the on-deck circle and take a few practice swings. With one out in the bottom of the ninth, we trail by a run. We need to score and give the fans something to cheer before heading into the All-Star break. A win today would tie us with the divisional leaders, the Mets. Which sucks. Not that a tie is bad, but I had pictured us leading with a wider spread. But to make things worse, a loss today will mark our eighth loss in ten games, not to mention being behind by one in the standings.

  Gonzalez swings through the high heat. His curse pretty much sums up the team’s attitude. Everyone is feeling the pressure. It’s hard to come back as the champions because the stakes are raised. It’s a good problem to have, but these past few games, I don’t feel like a champion.

  Gonzalez steps back in the hitter’s box and waits for the pitch. The crowd’s on their feet, the
intensity heightening. Chicago’s closer is good, but I’ve connected with him in the past. I know he’s beatable. He throws an off-speed pitch to AJ, who connects and loops one into right field. The crowd roars. Our guy on first rounds second, but their right fielder fields the ball smoothly and throws it to the cut-off man. The play at the plate will be too close. Our third base coach throws up the stop sign, and we now have runners at the corners.

  I can do this. Done it my entire career. All I need is a single to tie the game.

  I adjust my gloves, then my helmet, not thinking about anything but my job—connecting with the ball. Glistening chestnut eyes definitely don’t enter my mind. Nope, not once do I think of those Goddamn round eyes that reflect her true pain instead of the half-truths that spew from her mouth. I crouch my knees and eye the pitcher. He stretches and then delivers. My bat connects, but the timing is off, and the ball bounces on the infield, right to the second baseman, who steps on second base. Son of a bitch. I take off like a cannon. If I can beat out the play, we’ll at least get the run and tie the game. It’s going to be close. Too close. I slide headfirst into first. The glove sweeps in front of the plate right as my fingers connect with the leather.

  “Out!” The umpire shouts my most hated word.

  Well, that was fucking fun, I think as I walk out to the truck. An ass-chewing from the hitting coach is how everyone should start their break. He’s within his rights. My batting average has spiraled down faster than Zach’s sinker, but Jesus. I don’t need the reminder.

  Even though we play as a team, I can’t help but feel responsible for our place in the standings. Take today’s example. I didn’t come through in a clutch situation. Just like the last ten games. With my batting average taking a hit, it’s on the verge of dipping below .300 for the first time since my rookie year. I’d like to think it’s just a phase, but I know the reason. Hell, everyone knows the reason. And that’s why the coach singled me out and told me to get my head out of my ass.

  He dangled the MVP in front of me like some type of motivation. There’s only one problem with that. My priorities have changed. Of course, I want the title, but it means nothing if I can’t share it with the one I love. And yes, I fucking love her. It’s so Goddamn obvious now. But the hard truth remains: she doesn’t love me back. Or else she doesn’t love me enough. And that right there is the whole kick to the crotch.

  I throw my bag behind the driver’s seat when a bulge, sticking from the back pocket, draws my attention. I never use these compartments, so it leaves little doubt where it came from. Curious as to what got left behind, I reach down and grab hold of a hard, plastic figurine. A soft smile tugs my lips as I pull out Chewbacca. Tristan’s missing this, I’m sure. That kid loves everything Star Wars.

  I lean against the seat and study the toy. Jocelyn thinks I’ll want kids of my own, but she’s wrong. Her kids are great. Messy, but great. They’re enough for me, and if she gives me a chance, I’ll raise them as if they’re mine. I don’t understand why I didn’t have the balls to tell her. But her words stung to the point where I couldn’t think straight. How she can even fathom the idea of getting back with Carl is beyond me. I feel like the biggest pussy ever for walking out the door, even though that’s what she wanted.

  “Mommy, there’s Jax Carrigan.” A kid’s voice carries across the parking lot. I push off the side of the seat and smile at the woman and her two kids. The boy appears to be a little older than Tristan, but her daughter is the exact same size as Trenna.

  “Sorry, he’s a huge baseball fan.” The woman’s smile is sincere, but a little sad. “It’s hard to contain him. You’ll find out someday when you have kids.”

  My thoughts go straight to Jocelyn. “Yeah, maybe. Do you want me to sign something, buddy?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” His eyes light up as he passes me his glove. “I can’t wait to show my friend Braxton. He’s going to be so jealous.”

  “That’s not nice.” The woman shakes her head at him and then turns a smile to me. “Thank you.”

  I nod. She looks back at me before guiding her kids away. “Thanks again.”

  I turn back to the truck, and Chewbacca stares back at me. I smack the top of the doorframe and rest my forearms against the metal. Fuck, I miss those kids. I miss Jocelyn.

  “You losing your game?” Zach asks, coming up behind me.

  “I know I’ve been in a slump, but I’ll get it back.”

  “Chill. I meant with the ladies.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Whoa, Mr. Defensive.” AJ trails behind Zach. “He’s been extra broody lately. The guy needs laid.”

  “The guy needs to get his head out of his ass,” Zach says.

  “The guy is right here.” My batting average is taking a hit, I’m sitting home during break this year, and I lost the one girl I swore I’d never lose…again. I have every right to be pissy.

  “We’re on break.” Zach stands beside me while AJ gets into the passenger seat. “Take this time to either make it right or get the fuck over it. Either way, you need to get your head on straight. I want to win another championship.”

  “You’ve always been an ass.”

  Zach chuckles. “But I’m an ass who cares.” He slaps me on the back before taking off.

  I swipe Chewbacca into my hand and squeeze, the hard, plastic digging into my palm. “Fuck!”

  “What did Chewy ever do to you?” AJ never takes any situation seriously. Carefree and fun. That’s him. The only time I ever saw him get broody or weepy was when he moaned about some girl from his past. If his ex-girlfriend is anything like Jocelyn, I can certainly empathize with him.

  “I take it I’m giving you a lift home?” I slide behind the wheel and start the engine.

  His lips purse as he studies me, and I half-fear what’s coming.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Damn, again? “For what?”

  “If I hadn’t brought that girl home—”

  “Don’t start. For the hundredth time, it’s not your fault…entirely. That bitch is crazy, and I have a feeling she would’ve found a way to sabotage our relationship with or without you.”

  “Still, I’ll be more discreet with who I take home from now on.”

  “Say it ain’t so.”

  “No more crazy bitches.”

  “You like them a tad crazy.”

  His mouth stretches into a wide smile. “That I do.”

  With Chewy still in the palm of my hand, I drive back to our apartment, but it won’t be for long before I’m hitting the road again. I know exactly who I need to talk to. And she won’t be pleased to see me.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  JOCELYN

  Current Day

  Mets stay a game ahead going into the All-Star break. This headline will make New Yorkers happy. Well, all of them but this one. Nestled on the couch scouring the internet for drips of information about your former boyfriend may fall under creepy stalker status, but I don’t care. It’s obvious Jax is struggling. And I hate that a small portion of me is glad. It’s just that if he acted unaffected by our breakup, another piece of me would’ve died.

  I do feel bad for him. He needs to buck up and focus on the team, just like I need to focus on what the hell I’m going to do. Mom tells me the bakery I loved for years is for sale. The temptation to move back home and start over dangles in front of me like a carrot. I could take the money from selling my home and use it for securing the deposit on the bakery. Two problems exist with that scenario, moving in with my parents and being a permanent resident in Bowling View. Both seem like a huge step back. The words complete failure flash through my mind. The goal from the very start is to make it on my own. Not move back with my parents’ assistance.

  But I no longer want to be here. Living in the city was never my dream. It was Carl’s. Which would be a third problem. I’m not sure he’d ever let me move with the kids. But each passing day is another day of my life wasted. Maybe I’m being dramatic, but this suffoc
ating feeling is real. I want out of here. I want a change.

  I want Jax.

  My fingers fly across the keypad and type his name in the search bar. The first article to hit is the stupid Diva’s Disses blog. I flick the screen, as if it helps, and then scroll past the devastating article straight to his team picture. Those eyes. Those beautiful, sexy eyes stare back at me, and I feel him everywhere. My skin tingles with the mere thought of his fingertips running along my skin. His fingers pressing into my soft flesh as he pushes harder inside me. I squeeze my eyes shut and let the yearning rush through. This breakup is for the best. It is. When I open my eyes, I glance back at the article and wince. The reasons we won’t work long-term replays in my mind like a playlist stuck on repeat. Even though the facts prove my point, I can’t help wondering if I made the worst mistake of my life.

  The doorbell jars me from my self-pity. He came. Abandoning the laptop, I push off the couch, my heart fluttering as fast as hummingbird wings. It has to be him. Seven o’clock on a Thursday night, who else could it be?

  My hands shake as I grab hold of the doorknob. I have no idea what I will say to him, but I don’t care. I missed him so much. At this point, if he demanded we get back together, I’d cave. I know I would.

  With a slow, calming breath, I force the smile from my face—no need showing how anxious I really am—but my attempt at maintaining a neutral expression proves futile. Standing at my stoop is none other than my ex.

  “What are you doing here, Carl?” I stand in the middle of the entryway, not allowing him to enter. His jaw is set as he scans the area behind me. It’s almost as if he’s expecting someone to be here and he wants to pick a fight. His body relaxes when he returns his gaze to me.

  “If it’s Jax you’re looking for, he’s not here.” I clench my teeth together to hide how much hurt that statement causes. I really did believe he’d show up, but then again, fighting for me has never been his thing.