The kids exchanged glances but it was Carter who first took him seriously. Once he started, the rest joined in and raced each other to the finish. Coach’s strength and endurance training, from what Ryan had seen, included them running sprints and doing jumping jacks and maybe some push-ups. But these boys needed top-notch conditioning if they wanted to stand out. Ryan had checked the stats on their competition and if they wanted to make the state championships, they’d have to work for it. Hard. As Ryan watched Levi and Louis struggle around the eighteenth burpee, he figured he was only helping them. If they couldn’t keep up on a high school field, they wouldn’t make it to the majors. Hell, even the ones that handled today’s work out with ease likely wouldn’t make it to the majors. Or the minors. He shook his head, trying to ignore the wave of pride that washed through him when Carter finished first, sweat already forming on his brow. Anthony’s face was beet red when he finished last. Ryan made the rest of them do jumping jacks while Anthony did another twenty burpees. Travis moved off of the bleachers when Ryan brought the team that way, a smirk resting on his lips.
“Want to join in?” Ryan asked.
“No way, dude.”
Ryan laughed. “Chicken.” Turning to the team, he grinned wickedly. The first time he’d done this drill in junior high, he’d tripped and fallen flat on his face. He’d been razzed so hard by his teammates that he’d stayed after practice to perfect it. “Keep your feet together, jump onto the bench then off. Travis here is going to time you. One minute. You stop before the minute is up, you go for another five.”
He tossed Travis a stopwatch. He heard them grumbling but they were smart enough to keep it low. By the end of the minute, every one of them had yanked off their Wild Cats fleece sweaters, using them to mop their foreheads. Not one of them had fallen or tripped.
He had Travis time them while they did sprints and when they finished that, he made them do squats with weights over their heads.
“Coach, what’s this got to do with baseball?” Levi’s breath was choppy and he used the hem of his shirt to wipe his face. The cold was picking up but it wasn’t slowing them down.
“You need to be able to do more than hit and catch, Levi.”
“That’s what his girlfriend told him,” Anthony yelled. He looked away when Ryan glared at him.
When they almost looked like they were ready to drop, he sent them in for water while Travis helped him set up cones. When they came back out, faces red, some scowling, some weary but pumped, he taught them a basic X-drill. They ran from a stationary spot to a diagonal cone, sidestepped to another, then ran diagonally from there to another cone, and finally back to their original spot. They worked in partners, Travis and Ryan timing them.
“You all need to be able to handle anything. You need upper body strength to hit the ball, speed to run the bases, and you need to be able to keep your head in the game. Stay focused.”
“There goes Anthony’s chances,” Levi said. A few of the boys laughed and Anthony gave Levi a playful shove. They were done. They’d handled themselves and if he had to put a name to what he was feeling, Ryan would say he was proud. But not out loud.
“Alright, one lap then showers. On your way in, put these weights away.”
As the team ran their lap, Travis collected the cones and brought them over to where Ryan was packing up his clipboard and stopwatches.
“That was crazy. You trying to make cuts by killing them?”
Ryan laughed and zipped up his duffel. “No, but it definitely weeds out the ones who are serious. Some of these boys are in their senior year. They’ll have scouts looking if they don’t already. It’s good to see you, Travis.”
“You think Carter’s got a chance?”
“Don’t know. Is he doing his schoolwork?” Ryan shouldered the bag, took the cones from Travis, and walked beside him toward the gym.
“Yeah. Surprisingly, he is.”
“How you doing, Trav?” This time, Ryan met his gaze, hoping Travis saw that he really wanted to know.
“I’m all right. You know. Things are all right. I uh…”
Travis stopped when the fastest of the group, Louis, came up behind them, breathing heavy, a weight in hand.
“Good work out, Coach. You should join us next time,” Louis said.
“Maybe I will. If I think you need me to show you how it’s done.”
Travis and Louis laughed and Ryan was about to join them when he caught the look Louis sent Travis. Ryan knew what it meant. Hell, he gave that same glance to Frankie pretty much every day. The one that said, I want my hands on you. Then Louis turned and was gone and Travis’s cheeks were flushed.
For a minute, Ryan felt like he had joined them for the workout. The air squeezed inside his chest and felt trapped. Travis was studying his shoes and Ryan’s heart tap danced as his brain tried to think of what to say.
“I thought you liked the kid you study with,” Ryan said, his voice low from lack of air. He had wondered when they’d gone to the mall but the look Louis and Travis just shared confirmed what Ryan had thought. Travis shuffled his feet, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stopped walking. He kept studying his shoes. Ryan’s throat felt thick, nerves making the back of his neck itch.
“That’s all you’re going to say?” Travis asked. His eyes lifted, but only to Ryan’s chin.
“Is there something you want me to say?” Ryan kept his gaze steady when Travis finally brought his gaze up all the way. His eyes darted side to side as a few of the boys moved past them, then latched onto Ryan’s again. Fear and relief fought in the lines of his face before he shrugged and looked down again.
“Travis?”
“What?”
“I don’t know what the right thing to say here is. The last time I was around teens, I was one. I’m shit at relationships and just praying I don’t mess up my own. So if you want to talk to me, you can. I’m here. I’ll be honest and do my best by you, but I can’t read your mind.”
A few more of the guys ran by, Carter among them. He gave them a quick glance, wiped the sweat from his eyes, and carried on to the showers. Travis kicked at the gym floor with his foot.
“Don’t bother you?”
“That you’re gay?”
Travis’s eyes went wide and he stepped into Ryan, a warning look on his face. “Dude.”
“Jesus, kid. Are you?” Ryan shook his head, resisted shuffling his own feet. He didn’t consider himself good at giving advice. He definitely didn’t like to take it. But he had a chance with Travis here, so what the hell was he supposed to do?
“I don’t know.”
A couple of the boys exited the locker room and Travis backed up a bit. Ryan had under a minute tops to impart some sort of wisdom.
“Whether you like a guy or a girl, treat them with respect and demand it for yourself. Be safe. Use protection. Be honest. And faithful. You don’t want to be with someone, tell them. Don’t make them guess or find out from someone else. Be yourself. If that isn’t good enough for whoever you date, screw them. Well, don’t, not…” Ryan stopped and noted the curve of Travis’s lips as he tried not to smirk. Relief rested in his chest. Okay. The kid was smiling so he couldn’t have messed up too much.
“Is that all, dad?” Travis’s eyes shone with amusement but Ryan saw a slight sheen in them as well.
He clapped his hand on his shoulder, squeezed, and nodded his head, his throat oddly tight.
“You two sharing a moment or what?” Carter came up beside them, his hair still wet and his jacket zipped to his chin.
“Yup.” Travis turned and they began walking to the parking lot, the three of them.
“You work out like that when you played?” Carter asked. Cars started up and began pulling out of the parking lot. The air tasted like snow and Ryan hoped it would hold off. He wasn’t ready for winter yet. Maybe he could talk Frankie into a sunny vacation.
“I did. You’re going to hurt tomorrow. But you were awesome. You’ve got strength and spee
d. It’s a good combination.”
They reached his truck and Ryan hesitated and looked at them both. He didn’t want to say goodbye.
“How’s Frankie?” Travis asked.
“She’s good. Missing you guys. How’s Miles?”
Carter leaned against Ryan’s truck and crossed his arms. He looked more…relaxed. Like a teenager should.
“He likes the school he’s at,” Travis said, shooting Carter a look. Something passed between them, something Ryan stayed on the outside of, unable to decipher.
Ryan dropped his bag and put his hands on his hips. He had to stop himself from rubbing his palms on his track pants.
“Listen,” he said, a puff of cold air following his words. “Why don’t we go grab a pizza? We could take it back to Frankie’s? Maybe even pick up Miles. If that’s okay with your—”
“We gotta go,” Carter interrupted, pushing off of Ryan’s truck. Like a gate slamming shut, the ease was gone. Ryan felt more of chill from Carter’s words than he did from the weather. Travis opened his mouth and took a step forward, but Carter nudged him in the shoulder.
“We’ll see you,” was all Travis said.
Ryan watched them go, wishing he knew what to say to stop them. Getting in his truck, he headed for home. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, restlessness clawing at him. If he were in LA, he’d go grab a beer with one of the guys, go to the batting cages, and take Frankie to dinner at Perch, his favorite rooftop restaurant. His phone rang as he was nearing his driveway. A glance at the caller ID told him it was his agent. Or former agent. Another person who had let him down, walked away when Ryan had needed him. He let the call go to voicemail and figured that if he was going to put the past behind him, he had to stop answering its phone calls.
Chapter 37
He needed a shower, then he’d call Frankie and see what she wanted to do for dinner. He let himself into the house and tossed his keys on the entry table. He was only a few steps into the house when someone knocked. He smiled, thinking Frankie had saved him a phone call.
“Hey—” Ryan swallowed the rest of his words when he saw Cameron standing on his doorstep. His expensive leather jacket seemed at odds with his disheveled hair and scruffy jaw. For a man who made it obvious how much appearance mattered to him, this came as a surprise. But to comment on it, on the tired look in Cameron’s eyes, would mean that Ryan cared why the guy looked so run down. And he didn’t.
“Ryan.” Cameron looked down.
Ryan crossed his arms over his chest, his own jacket still on. He heard the hardness in his voice when he asked, “What do you want, Cam?”
Cameron’s eyes came back to Ryan’s and narrowed at the nickname. His features tightened, his jaw clenched. “I wanted to tell you something. You’re probably not going to listen, but I’m trying to make up for being a prick.”
“That could take a while.”
Ryan leaned against the door jam and watched Cameron swallow his anger and paint on his politician’s face. His fingers dug into his palms.
“I spoke with Leslie. It seems that…Frankie is a good candidate for being a foster parent. However, there’re some concerns.”
“Why are you telling me this and not Frankie and why would Leslie tell you before Frankie? Why would she tell you at all?”
Cam shoved his hands in the pocket of his jacket, sighing. The deep exhale seemed to knock the phony expression off of his face.
“Frankie wouldn’t open the door when I knocked. Maybe she’s busy but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to talk to me,” Cam said, holding up a hand when Ryan began to respond. “I don’t blame her. I was a jerk. Fine. I admit it. But it doesn’t mean I’m not sorry. I phoned Leslie to see if there was anything I could do to vouch for Frankie. She said that the social worker who came to interview you found your past troubling.”
Ryan stood straighter, the back of his neck warm. He clenched his hands into his arms, but kept his face neutral. “My past as one of the highest-earning hitters in baseball? My past as being linked to a number of charities, including a foundation that’s in the process of being established for low-income families that want to get their kids into sports?” Ryan’s teeth were clenched like his hands. Cameron had the grace to look bothered by the news he was delivering but Ryan wasn’t feeling graceful.
“Look Ryan, I’m just giving you a heads-up. From what Leslie said, your past might be the reason Frankie doesn’t get the boys. They need a stable environment and you don’t have a history of stability,” he said.
Ryan stepped onto the porch, pleased that Cameron stepped back. “What the hell do you know about me? Nothing.”
“For God’s sake, Ryan. The whole world knows about you. Your divorce was plastered all over magazines. Your best friend’s face was everywhere after you beat it black and blue. Hell, now your name is back in the news for being cleared. But there’ll always be something. You think that shit isn’t going to impact this? I don’t care what you do. But if you care, if you want Frankie to have what she wants, I’m telling you, her relationship with you is going to get in the way. Do what you will with that information. You’re used to having anything you want, used to people falling all over themselves to make you happy, so maybe it doesn’t matter to you, but I thought Frankie did.” Cam’s eyes flashed with temper and before Ryan could say a word in response, he turned and stomped down the porch steps.
It took every calming trick he knew not to punch a hole in the wall of his entryway. He settled for slamming the door hard enough to jostle the pictures on the walls. Yanking off his jacket, he tossed it on the back of a chair and stalked through his house. He didn’t sit, he just paced, his fingers itching to smash something. Knowing that if he stayed in the house, he’d break whatever he found first, he went outside and stepped off the massive back patio and onto the gravel walkway that lined the manicured yard.
Picking up a handful of that gravel, he chucked rocks, one by one, as far as he could. A few bounced off the empty outbuilding he hadn’t found a use for yet. Others sailed to nowhere, giving him the satisfaction of knowing he could make them disappear. He could do two things: he could throw and he could hit. Other than that, he’d fucked up most of the things in his life that mattered. Now he aimed for the small shed, needing to hear the steady smack of the rocks against it.
His breath came out choppy as he continued to throw. It occurred to him that he had always turned to baseball. His dad was a dickhead: grab a bat. His mom put up with abuse: swing the bat. He hated high school and couldn’t wait to get out: become the best hitter possible. Married a two-timing diva who only wanted his money and his name: spend every waking minute absorbed in baseball. Best friend doing his wife: bury his head in the game. Even when he’d left it, baseball had never left him. It was as much a part of him as his skin—it covered him, protected him, and held him together. But right now, as he threw until his arm ached, he knew that it wasn’t baseball he wanted to turn to, bury himself in. It was Frankie.
She was the first thing in his life that mattered enough to make him see who he was without baseball. She was the first person to make him realize that with or without a baseball career, he had a lot to look forward to. He’d never thought of a life without baseball. The thought sickened him, twisted his stomach in knots so tight they ached. Somehow, Frankie had come to matter more to him than he’d ever imagined. The idea of moving forward without her was even worse than a life without the game he loved. He’d survived when his career had crumbled. He didn’t know if he could survive without Frankie.
Chapter 38
Frankie never stood still long enough to feel the pain of waiting or even long enough to realize waiting had a physical pain that accompanied it when it went on too long. She’d graduated high school, gone to college, and worked two jobs while she wrote on the side. She had an active social life and tried to involve herself in the community. She’d had Robert, who, at times, had seemed like a full-time job. Robert was classic type A
and Frankie had always been an eclectic mix of the whole alphabet.
“I’m alphabet soup,” she said out loud as she scrubbed the kitchen floor on her hands and knees. Fergie was blasting from her iPhone and Frankie was trying to pretend she was a big girl too. “I think you have it wrong, Fergie. Big girls do cry.” She bit her lip to keep from doing just that, as she backed herself out of the kitchen.
In the last week, her life had been a balancing act of positive and negative. She’d seen the boys twice, but heard nothing from the social workers. Her parents had confirmed Christmas, but her brother was hedging. She’d saved a hundred dollars on a weather-proofing deal for her windows only to have her furnace need servicing. She could handle all of that. But what was really unbalancing her was Ryan’s distance. Hoisting herself up off of the floor, she looked out the window and saw his truck pull into his driveway. Yanking off the rubber gloves and tossing them onto the coffee table, she pulled on her winter coat, and stuffed her feet into her boots, not even tying them up. She was done waiting.
When she got to his door, she almost turned the knob. Her slight hesitation made her mad at herself. She’d had sex with this man in almost every room of this house. They’d whispered plans for their future together in the darkness or the glow of his fireplace. He loved her—even if he hadn’t said it. If there was a checklist for knowing whether you could just walk into someone’s house, she’d be able to check every yes box. Yet, she raised her hand and knocked on his front door, feeling like time had pushed her back several paces. When he opened the door, looking so perfectly Ryan, her heart hammered even as she formed a scowl.
“I’m tired of waiting,” she said, stepping into the house, pleased that he moved aside so she could.
“Uh, how long were you waiting? I just got home.” He shut the door and stared at her, made no effort to kiss her, pull her close, tell her how much he missed her this last week while he’d been doing God knows what. What happened to wanting to be with her when he wasn’t? Victoria’s gorgeous, perfect face came into her head, but she pushed it away.
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