Keeping Score

by Sara Rider

  She scanned the list of names on the buzzer outside the apartment entrance until she came to the one she was looking for.

  “This better be worth it,” she whispered as she pressed the number and let her hand fall back to her side, shoulders sagging from exhaustion. She had spent every last dollar of her bonus getting here. It didn’t matter that she was a fully functioning adult, or that it was her money to spend, or that she knew her parents’ grief took them so far away from reality, warp speed couldn’t get back in this lifetime. It still felt like she was betraying her sister by spending recklessly instead of helping her folks reach their fund-raising goal.

  The buzzer crackled. A scratchy voice rang through the machine. “You actually came?”

  “I said I would.”

  “Then I won’t keep you waiting. Last door on the right.”

  The glass door unlocked with a sharp ring. One quick elevator ride later, she was on the top floor of the building. She didn’t need to knock. The door swung open before she made it all the way down the hall.

  Martin stepped into view. Black sweatpants hung lazily on his hips, displaying every inch of his perfect, shirtless abs, and a look in his crystal-blue eyes that made it clear sex was the only thing on his mind.

  His hand fell to her lower back as she entered silently into his apartment.

  “I gotta say I’m surprised you called.”

  “So am I.”

  He slid his arms around her stiff shoulders. “I got the feeling back in Hawaii that you weren’t interested in taking me up on my offer. Patrick is getting picked up for a sleepover later, but after that . . .” His grin finished the sentence for him.

  “I’m not here for sex.” He stepped back, probably shocked that anyone could turn him down. He was gorgeous, rich, and charming as hell. But he wasn’t who she wanted. “I’m here to talk about Alex Martinez.”

  Ice slid into his eyes. “Patrick,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, Dad?” A cherubic little version of Martin popped into view down the bright, photo-lined hallway.

  “Go make sure you have everything for the sleepover. Jack’s mom is taking you to school tomorrow, so you need to bring your homework with you.”

  “Okay.”

  “And your toothbrush.” His attention resettled on Jaime. “Have a seat.”

  She plopped gracelessly onto the black leather couch, grateful for the soft cushioning on her sore body. His apartment was utterly stereotypical for a newly successful male athlete. Sleek modern lines, expensive electronics, and a spectacular view of the San Francisco city line. The only difference was the brightly colored toys and books scattered across the floor.

  “Why did you come all this way to talk to me about Alex?” Martin sat down across from her.

  “Because I need you to say he didn’t give you performance-enhancing drugs.”

  “I could’ve told you that over the phone.”

  “But you wouldn’t have told me what really happened when you played for Northern Oregon over the phone.”

  He crossed his arms, all trace of humor gone. “Well, it looks like you wasted your time, because I’m not telling you that.”

  “He was fired from the Falcons because of that story. His career is ruined.”

  Martin slumped back in his chair and folded his hands over his mouth. “Shit.”

  Patrick tromped back into the living room carrying a blue notebook. “Dad, I can’t find my math book.”

  “Did you check your backpack?”

  Patrick’s mouth twisted sideways. “No.”

  A sweet smile tugged at Martin’s lips as he watched his son scurry back to his room.

  “Found it!”

  Jaime cleared her throat. “He seems like a good kid.”

  Martin’s eyebrows creased with emotions she couldn’t pinpoint. “Why is it so important to you to know about Alex and me?”

  “Because”—she sucked in a steely breath—“I’m in love with him, and I need to know why he’s pushing me away. I need to know if I should keep fighting for us.”

  ALEX FINISHED PAINTING THE last railing post on his front porch and rubbed his forearm against his brow, scanning the yard for other last-minute touch-ups and quick fixes he could take care of before the afternoon sun drifted past the horizon. The newly staked, bright red For Sale sign stuck out like a glaring reminder that everything he had worked for in his life had just come to a grinding halt.

  In the last four days, he’d managed to repaint the kitchen, prune the overgrown trees lining his yard, and fix almost every last item that had languished on his to-do list since the day he’d moved into the house three years ago. Turned out being fired was a pretty good kick in the ass.

  So was getting dumped. He hadn’t heard a single word from Jaime since he’d come back from Spokane. Not that he blamed her. He’d held back the truth. At first because he was trying to protect her. Her world had nearly fallen apart and getting her back on track had been the only priority.

  But after the championship? He had nothing to blame but his stubborn pride.

  He tossed the paint-spattered brush into the tray and parked himself on the front step, taking a moment to revel in the memories he’d collected over the years in this place. It was a modest house by any standards, but he’d fallen in love with it the moment he’d set eyes on it. And while he spent most of his time at the stadium or on the road, he loved coming home to this place. Knowing he had worked hard and saved for years to buy it gave him a sense of pride.

  And now, at thirty years old, he was moving back to his parents’ house until he could sort himself out again. So much for pride.

  The unmistakable purr of a fast car echoed through the street. A moment later, a cherry-red Porsche pulled into his driveway.

  Gabe stepped out of the car and ambled up to him, glancing around to take in the cosmetic changes. “So, this is how you’re dealing with heartbreak?”

  “Had to get done. Why don’t you grab a hammer and help me rip up this rotting plank on the stairs?”

  Gabe put his hands up defensively and grimaced. “Nah. I’m much too pretty for manual labor.”

  Alex laughed in spite of himself. “That can be fixed with a hammer, too.” His longtime friend had mentioned he’d stop by today to say good-bye before Alex left for good the next morning.

  “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go grab a beer and you can tell me all about what the hell happened between you and Jaime this week.”

  “Not a chance,” Alex said, packing up his tool kit.

  “Then let’s grab a beer and watch whatever game is on TV and brood in silence like the macho men we are.”

  “Deal.”

  A few minutes later, Alex had stashed his tools, changed into clothes that weren’t streaked with mud, and got into Gabe’s flashy car.

  “So, has she been ignoring your calls and texts?” Gabe asked, amusement barely concealed.

  Alex grunted. “I thought we weren’t talking about this.”

  “We’re not talking about it at the bar,” he said, spinning the steering wheel effortlessly with two fingers to take a corner. “But it’s just you and me in this vehicle, and I’ve been there, too. Real men share their feelings. So open up that black heart of yours. Let those mushy, lovesick feelings pour out.”

  “Okay. My feeling is that I’m going to punch you before this evening is over.”

  “That’s good, man. You’re sharing already. Have you been doing the late-night drive-bys of her place just to get a glimpse of her?”

  Alex grunted again, regretting getting into the Porsche.

  “Shit, what have you been doing to win her back? Please say you haven’t been ignoring her. Tell me you’re not that big of an idiot.”

  “She made herself clear. Walked out before I even got through my speech about long-
distance.”

  “That’s because long-distance sucks.”

  “Don’t have much choice. And why the hell are we still talking about this?”

  “So you haven’t even tried to get her back?” Gabe shook his head with disappointment. “You’ve got too much pride, man. It’s going to be your downfall. If you want to get her back, you’ve got to grovel. Worked for me.”

  Alex bit his tongue, knowing that Gabe was right. Pride had already ruined nearly everything that mattered to him in life, but as much as he wanted Jaime back, he couldn’t bring himself to beg. He knew he didn’t deserve her right now. Not after screwing up. He needed to build his life back up and regain some dignity before he could feel worthy of winning her back.

  Unnervingly familiar street signs and landmarks popped up outside his window as they drove, hitting Alex with an unimpressive realization. “Why are you driving to Chester Stadium?”

  Gabe cleared his throat, keeping his lips shut tight.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Alex said, annoyance coating his words.

  “Don’t be angry. Lainey told me told me I had to stop by before we go out for beers.”

  “You could’ve warned me. I’m persona non grata here.”

  “Yeah, but I’m the beloved hero, so it all evens out.”

  Seeing the expansive stadium as they pulled into the parking lot felt like a slap in the face. Though the season was over, a few dozen cars lined the lot, including Jaime’s blue Kia. He cursed under his breath, realizing his friend was up to no good.

  “The Falcons are giving a post-championship press conference. Let’s just make an appearance and then get the heck out of here. You can hang at the back like some invisible stalker.”

  “I’m not going in there.” He crossed his arms, knowing he was pouting like a child, but the last thing he wanted to do during his final night in Seattle was subject himself to the embarrassment of facing the team he’d given everything to, only to get thrown out on his ass in the end.

  “Yeah, you are. Otherwise Lainey is going to come out here and kick my ass. And probably yours, too. You know as well as I do that you don’t piss that woman off.”

  Alex relented and got out of the car. He wasn’t prepared to admit it yet, but the chance to see Jaime again, even if she hated him right now, was too much to pass up. If he were lucky, she wouldn’t even know he was there. He could get one more glimpse of her beautiful face and devastating smile.

  He followed Gabe down to the pressroom, scowling the entire way. For three years, this place was his second home. Now the gray concrete walls felt cold and cruel.

  They stopped at the wide doorway of the pressroom. The space was filled with reporters and players dressed in their teal and black team colors. At the long table at the front of the room, Carson Chester sat with Victor, Lainey, and Jaime.

  His chest constricted when he saw her, a bored expression on her face as Chester prattled on about the momentous win last week and plans for the upcoming season.

  Alex watched silently as Victor fielded the reporters’ comments with his gruff, dismissive answers. The occasional question was directed to Lainey, as the team’s captain and biggest star. Though she’d come a long way in learning to deal with the media since the beginning of the season, most of her responses were dry as dirt. The crowd of reporters seemed to grow restless. Eventually, one directed a question to Jaime.

  “Miss Chen, you’ve had an up-and-down season with your fitness this year, but in the end managed a pretty spectacular win for your team in last week’s final. Not to mention that impressive Bodies of Sport cover. Can you tell us about your status going into the off-season?”

  Alex’s blood boiled with rage hearing the lecherous tone in the reporter’s voice, but he didn’t have a right to be jealous. Not anymore.

  Jaime cleared her throat and scanned the room. Her eyes landed on Alex, hitting him like a thunderbolt to the chest. There was no discernible emotion in her reaction to seeing him. Gabe’s hand landed hard on his shoulder. “Don’t even think of running away,” he whispered to Alex.

  “Actually,” Jaime started, “there’s a whole lot I want to say. I know there’s been some speculation about my health, and let me start by saying it’s all bullshit. Hard as it may have been to tear your eyes away from all the beautiful half-naked bodies in that issue, I know some of you read the article about Alex Martinez. That was bullshit, too, and I’m going to tell you why.”

  Alex’s heart pounded like it was about to explode. What was she doing? Her privacy meant everything to her.

  “Three weeks ago I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis.” Her voice was shaky, but the words were firm.

  The room stilled.

  “Holy shit,” Gabe uttered.

  “Yeah. It sucks,” Jaime continued. “But I’m a fighter and I’m not giving up. I’m also lucky. The medications are working and my doctor caught it early. And another thing? It’s no one’s damn business. But I can’t stand by while that article made it look like Alex wasn’t competent. He’s the one who figured out what was happening to me. Without him”—she stood up and pointed at Alex, forcing everyone’s attention his way—“I would never have been able to help the Falcons make history at last week’s final. So how about all of you go to your respective papers, blogs, and TV news shows and clear Alex Martinez’s name?”

  The rustle of murmurs and whispers filled the room while Alex stood there, too shell-shocked to process what Jaime had just done. Indescribable pride in her strength and guts mixed with deep fear of consequences that would eventually unfold. Why would she do that? There was only one explanation that made sense, and yet . . . he couldn’t bring himself to get his hopes up.

  The reporter cleared his throat for a follow-up.

  “That is quite surprising news, Ms. Chen. However, that article also brought to light a number of concerns over Martinez’s conduct as a physiotherapist while at Northern Oregon University.”

  “Yeah, I figured you’d ask about that. I hope you don’t mind that a friend of mind is going to crash this little press conference. I think you’ll all recognize the handsome devil over there in the corner. His name is Martin Daniels, and he’s got something to say, too.”

  Panic tightened in Alex’s chest as he watched Martin emerge from the corner of the room and walk up to the stage. After four years of not seeing the man he’d once considered a brother, a million different emotions struggled for dominance. It was too surreal, too ridiculous.

  He needed to stop this from happening.

  “Don’t even think about it, man,” Gabe said, tightening his grip on Alex’s shoulder.

  “I can’t let him do this.”

  “Yeah, you can. It’s about time the world learned that you’re innocent.”

  He spun around to face Gabe. “That’s the problem. I’m not innocent. Not even close.”

  The strident feedback from the microphone reverberated through the room like the sound of a car crash about to happen.

  “Uh, hi, everyone,” Martin said, taking a seat in Jaime’s chair. At the far end of the table Chester looked enraged that the press conference had just devolved into a complete circus, but everyone else seemed to be taken in by his charm. “A lot of harsh allegations were made in that article, and I think it’s time I come clean. The truth is, I was using drugs while I was playing ball at Northern Oregon.”

  Every soul in the room gasped.

  “Oh shit,” Gabe whispered, letting his hand fall from Alex’s shoulder like he was contagious.

  “Not performance-enhancing drugs, though. And not drugs that Alex gave me, either, because he wouldn’t do that. It was heroin. I got into a lot of trouble as a kid. I had a baby at seventeen. His mom and I were both using, but by the grace of god, he came out healthy and amazing.”

  The room was stone-cold silent.

 
“My life could have gone a lot of different ways, but I was lucky. Baseball saved me. I got clean for a while, got the scholarship to Northern Oregon, and didn’t look back. I’m not proud of that. I was young and selfish and stupid. I missed the first three years of my son’s life. I left him with someone who couldn’t take care of herself, much less a child.” Anguish was written across Martin’s face as he spoke, stripping his words of any veneer. He paused to collect himself, looking so much older than his twenty-six years.

  “When my name started coming up in draft talks, the pressure got to be too much. I wasn’t ready. And then Amy died.” Twin tears streaked down Martin’s cheeks. “Even though we weren’t together, it broke my heart. I started using again. When you’re an addict, you learn to hide it really well. Alex was just a junior physiotherapist at the time, but he knew something had changed in me. He was the only one that noticed. I begged him not to tell anyone. Amy’s parents were fighting me for custody of Patrick. It was the last thing Amy would have wanted. She told me stories about her life growing up, and I knew I couldn’t let the same thing happen to Patrick. Even though he was my son, I was practically a kid myself. I couldn’t compete with people who looked like sweet old grandparents on the outside but who were monsters on the inside. So I asked Alex to lie for me.”

  Exhaustion tugged at Alex’s shoulders as the memories of sleepless nights and endless stress that he’d worked so hard to forget came flooding back. The shame came, too. He had broken his oath. Lied to his bosses. He was so caught up in Martin’s confession that he didn’t even notice Jaime descend from the stage until she was at his side. She wrapped her arms around his waist, grounding him. He cupped her nape, taking in every ounce of the comfort she was giving him. It felt so good to hold her again and inhale the delicious coconut aroma wafting from her hair. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to let her go.

  “I couldn’t risk anyone finding out about my relapse with the custody battle going on, so Alex stayed with me every night to make sure I got clean. It wasn’t pretty. But he believed I could do it and made me promise to get into treatment as soon as I could. I begged him to tell everyone I had a rotator cuff injury instead of the truth. He saved my life. He saved my son’s life. I owe him everything.”