Dare to Breathe

by S. B. Alexander

  Then something hit me. If she did sign with the Dodgers, she would be living in California again. Oh, man. In only a few hours, our future had gone to shit. How could we live peacefully in the same state her grandfather resided in, the state that held such bad memories for her?

  One day at a time my father had counseled on many occasions.

  “I should hear from the Dodgers within the next week for more details,” she said.

  I rolled on my back, running a hand through my hair.

  She climbed on top of me. “Do you realize that I might be the first female to enter the major leagues?” Her voice hitched, and a bright, sunny light shone in her eyes.

  I rubbed the sides of her toned thighs. “You deserve the world, Lace.”

  She angled her head. “I detect a thread of unhappiness.”

  Busted.

  I was serious when I said she deserved the world and more. All I’d ever wanted for her was to see her smiling every day and happy with life that didn’t include PTSD, murder, kidnappings, and pain.

  Yet I couldn’t shake the idea of her living in California or us living in California. Not only that, if she signed a contract, would she still want to get married or have kids? Could she play pregnant? Again, I was getting too far ahead of myself.

  One day at a time was becoming my mantra.

  I grinned, albeit weakly. “I want a family, a big one. You know that. I don’t want to wait much longer for us to settle down.”

  She smoothed a finger over my eyebrow. “We can get married in a couple of years once I get in the groove with my career. We love each other. So why rush into things?”

  I moved her off me then got out of bed. When I did, the room spun. I staggered and caught the chair near the window.

  Lacey was at my side in a flash. “What’s wrong? It’s a headache, isn’t it? That’s why you were sleeping when I came in. That’s why you looked pale. Jennifer said that, and so did Lee at the front desk.”

  The room blurred. I wobbled to the chair and dropped my body into it. “I’m good. I just got up too quickly,” I lied.

  She didn’t need another thing to worry about.

  Chapter 4

  Lacey

  I clutched my stomach as I sat in a waiting room at the Dodgers’ front office in Los Angeles. The past few weeks had been tumultuous with graduating, moving back home, losing sleep over my grandfather’s parole hearing, and the excitement that a major league team was interested in me.

  For the last twenty minutes, I’d been trying to rid myself of the nausea that had hit me all of a sudden. I blew out a breath, then another, and yet another. My nerves had been all over the place leading up to this exciting moment, but not to the point of wanting to puke my guts out.

  I touched my forehead. No fever, but a light sheen of sweat coated my skin. It felt as though I’d just woken up from one of my bad dreams in which my grandfather was chasing me with a knife in his hand. That nightmare had been a staple of mine since I’d learned he could get out on parole. His hearing was scheduled for next week.

  I wouldn’t be able to sleep until after his hearing. I was certain Kade wouldn’t, either. He’d been with me almost every night, comforting me when I jolted up from a nightmare crying and screaming. I hated to see the pain on his face. I hated that we were reliving scenes from our high school senior year when he was constantly getting migraines and I was a hot mess with blackouts, nightmares, and panic attacks.

  I tapped my foot as I glanced around the small waiting room that had pictures of baseball players, old and new, hanging on the walls. When my eyes landed on the jar of M&M’s on the table beside me, bile rose. What in the world? I loved the chocolate candy.

  The door to the conference room opened, and with it, a whoosh of cologne-infused air hit me square in the nose. Covering my mouth with my hand, I jumped up. Not the reaction I was going for when meeting the Dodgers management team.

  A petite lady with kind brown eyes rushed forward. “Ms. Robinson, you look extremely pale.” She rested her hand on my back. “The restroom is around the corner on your right. Why don’t you give yourself a minute to freshen up? I’ll let them know you’ll be right in.”

  I inhaled another whiff of that musky cologne. Immediately, a macabre memory flitted through my head. I pushed that dark night away—the night I’d come home to find the dead bodies of my mom and sister. Maybe being in LA was causing me to be sick. After all, I grew up there. My sister and mom were murdered there, and my grandfather resided in a California prison. I didn’t care to know which one.

  Kade should’ve come to the meeting with me instead of hanging at the hotel. He had insisted, but I’d wanted to at least attend the meeting on my own. As much as I loved him, I couldn’t have him holding my hand every waking minute. This was my career, and if I were going to play in the major leagues, then I had to be strong. I had to lift up my chin, roll back my shoulders, and swallow my nausea.

  Regardless, I should at least splash water on my face then pinch my cheeks to get color back. I couldn’t let them see me sweat, especially for the wrong reasons. They might think I was petrified of them and the opportunity, and while I was a little, I believed my paleness was a direct result of nerves and stress, or maybe I was getting the flu. I did feel as if someone had zapped the energy out of me.

  I stuck out my chest. I definitely had to bite the bullet and walk into that room even if I was about to puke or collapse. Because if I ran to the bathroom, they would think I wasn’t cut out for the team. After all, any man in my shoes, no matter how he was feeling, would appear strong on the outside.

  “I’m good.” Not in the least.

  Maybe I had food poisoning from that hamburger I ate last night, or maybe the eggs on the plane that morning weren’t agreeing with my stomach. Or maybe you’re still spooked over your grandfather’s parole. Which according to my dad wouldn’t happen. He’d said the district attorney in LA believed that my grandfather wouldn’t be paroled early. There were too many others in the prison system with lesser crimes who qualified for early parole.

  She dipped her bright-red head. “Very well. By the way, I’m Holly, Brice Thames’s assistant. We spoke on the phone.” She waved me in.

  As soon as I walked into the conference room, acid crept up to my throat. As gross as it was, I smiled through a swallow at the three men who rose from their leather chairs.

  I ambled over to one of two empty seats. Holly was right beside me until she slid into the chair in front of her laptop, next to the bald man I knew as Tony Greer. He was the scout who’d been to several of my games over the last year.

  “Lacey, nice to see you again,” Tony said. “Please have a seat.”

  I nodded as I took the one remaining spot at the head of the table.

  Holly made the introductions.

  The black man to my right was Brice, who led the Dodgers’ Triple-A division, and the large man across from Brice was Marcel Lentz, president of the scouting division.

  I clasped my hands together on the table, trying not to inhale the strong scent of cologne.

  Holly started. “The team will ask you a series of questions. Once you’ve answered them, then you can ask a few of your own. Afterward, we’ll adjourn, and the team will collaborate.”

  The three men opened their notebooks.

  Marcel ran a hand down his Dodgers tie and over his large stomach. “So Lacey, we’ve seen your tapes. I have to say I was a bit shocked that a petite woman like you can throw a fastball at almost ninety miles an hour. Can you talk to us about your workout regimen?” His skepticism rang out loud and clear.

  I knew I would have to sell myself, and to a certain extent, my skills, although the tapes of my games spoke for themselves. Facts didn’t hide anything.

  I sat up straighter, despite my sickness. “During my college years, I’ve been working out in the weight room three days a week in the off-season and every day during the season when I didn’t have a game. On top of that, I practice my
pitching year-round.” I’d been relentless in getting back into the game after the funeral six years ago, but even more so when I entered college. My time in the weight room certainly showed on my arms, chest, and legs. I wasn’t big by any means, but I was strong.

  Holly typed on her laptop, while the others jotted notes in their books.

  Brice piped in next, settling his stark green gaze on me. “We like what we saw on your tapes. Tony also tells us that the crowd loves you. How do you handle the media? And were the men on your college team receptive to you?”

  Coach Burton had said the media would have a field day with me if I signed a major league contract. But the local media, and at times the national media, had been at my college games. So I was used to answering reporters’ questions.

  I smiled at Brice. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but I’m very cordial and professional when speaking with the media. As far as the men on the team, we got along great.” That was the truth. My teammates hadn’t given me any problems like Aaron Seever had back in high school.

  Brice jotted something in his notebook, giving me no indication if he liked my answer or not. Frankly, I couldn’t worry about what he thought. I’d been honest.

  They asked me several more questions: Do you have an agent? Are you prepared for the media frenzy? How will you focus when the world will be watching a woman pitch in the major leagues? How will you deal with the men on the team who believe that a woman shouldn’t be playing a man’s game?

  I answered the questions as best I could. None of them gave away what they were thinking about my answers. When it was my turn to ask questions, I really had only one for the men.

  “How do you men feel about a woman on the team?” I asked.

  Given Brice’s question about how receptive the men had been when I joined my college team, I had a feeling he wasn’t all that enamored with a woman on his team.

  The three men honed in on me as fast as a whip. Holly, on the other hand, smiled.

  The nausea in my stomach dulled.

  Brice’s green eyes seemed to glow against his dark skin. He reminded me of a cross between Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriguez. Handsome for sure. “To be frank, having a woman on the team would be a challenge for this organization. I don’t think we’re quite ready for that.”

  My intuition had been spot-on.

  “Brice,” Marcel said. “Whether or not we’re ready, Lacey is that good. Let’s not forget you need a closer on the team. With Freddy’s arm shot, you’ve lost the last three games. So when we return after the All-Star break, what are you going to do?”

  I sucked in a quiet breath. I had one person in my court. Actually two. Tony Greer had scouted me, which meant that he’d pushed to set up this meeting.

  Tony pointed his pen at Brice. “We’ve discussed this. Whether the men want a woman on the team or not, she’s got the talent. If anyone on the team has a stick up their ass over her, then she’ll deal with it, and I’m sure you will help her as well. That is if you want to win games.”

  My head swung from right to left as the men continued to argue. Holly winked at me. I imagined she heard all kinds of arguments.

  I sat up straighter. “Mr. Thames, I understand some of your concerns. But as Mr. Greer has pointed out, my stats speak volumes. The question is do you want to take a chance on me? Does the Dodgers organization want to take a chance on signing the first female to their roster?” Please say yes. “I’ve dealt with boys not wanting a girl on the team, but in the end, their reason has been they were afraid I would take away the spotlight from them. They were worried I would show them up. But baseball is a team game. It takes all nine players to win a game. I, for one, am a team player.” I wanted to say regardless if I peed standing up or sitting down, I could play the game.

  Brice mashed his lips together in response, nodding. He was a hard man to read.

  “Lacey, do you have any other questions for them?” Holly asked.

  I had two. “When will you make your decision, and when you do, what are the next steps?”

  Coach Burton had called me last week to give me some last-minute advice on making sure I knew where I stood before I left the meeting.

  Tony cleared his throat. “Give us a couple of days.”

  Marcel clasped his hands on his large belly. “Why don’t we see Lacey in action while she’s in LA? We have a handful of ball players in town despite the All-Star break. Let’s call them in to work out with her.”

  Brice raised a thick brow. “Great idea.”

  My mouth parted.

  Tony rose. “It’s settled. Can you meet us at the stadium at nine a.m. tomorrow?”

  Thankfully, I had packed my cleats and glove. Holly hadn’t mentioned that they would have me pitch, but my dad had said to be prepared just in case. “Of course.” Kade and I weren’t flying home for another two days. I wanted to visit Julie and Mom’s grave, and I could do that later in the day.

  We shook hands before Holly walked me out.

  “You did well in there,” she said. “I hope you feel better by the morning.”

  I pushed the button on the elevator. “It was touch and go, but suddenly the wave of nausea is gone.”

  She angled her head. “Is this nausea happening every day?”

  “No. I think I was extremely nervous.”

  The elevator doors opened.

  “Mm,” she said. “Well, give them hell tomorrow.”

  I stepped into the empty car. “I plan to.”

  The doors slid shut, and I squealed. I couldn’t wait to tell Kade. More importantly, I couldn’t wait to show Brice Thames that a woman could handle the men and the game.

  Chapter 5

  Kade

  Lacey tossed and turned, keeping me awake for the last two hours. I hadn’t slept a full night since she moved back home. Her nightmares kept me on edge and holding her into the wee hours of the morning. I couldn’t believe how years of improvement had been washed away with one news report.

  I let out a sigh, knowing she wasn’t screaming at the moment, nor was she crying or talking in her sleep as she usually did when she was freaked out about something. I was certain that her chance to show the LA Dodgers how great a pitcher she was helped to keep the subject of her grandfather at bay.

  As for me, I wanted to get on the next plane out of LA. Home was not here, and if the Dodgers did sign her, then I wasn’t sure what I would do. Shortly after her sister and mom’s funeral, her psychiatrist had recommended a change of scenery, which had helped Lacey tremendously. If she returned to LA, I wasn’t sure she would ever heal.

  One day at a time. I’d been trying to follow that advice, but it was hard as fuck when all I kept envisioning was a future where neither Lacey nor me were happy.

  The ring of her phone blasted through the quietness of the hotel room. I bolted out of bed and grabbed it from the nightstand on the other side of Lacey.

  “Hey, James,” I whispered, walking away. “What’s wrong?” He wouldn’t have woken us up at six in the morning if something weren’t wrong, although it was nine a.m. back home.

  “Sorry to wake you,” he said. “I got a call from the LA DA. He thinks it would be good to have Lacey testify against Harrison’s release at the parole hearing. I told him no, but he wants to talk with Lacey.”

  I glanced at my girl, who was curled into a fetal position, finally not moving as she slept soundly.

  I quietly grabbed a room key and stepped out into the hall. “Are you kidding me?” I tried to keep my voice low as I trudged by rooms on my way to the small alcove of elevators. “I can’t let her do that. Do you know she’s been dreaming of Harrison killing her? Testifying will only make her PTSD even worse than it is now. In fact, if you think she was out of control in high school, you haven’t seen anything yet.” I didn’t know if Lacey had told her old man about her sleepwalking, but he had to know. “She’s even sleepwalking.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah,
fuck. But she has a tryout today, which she’s extremely excited about. So I’m not saying anything about talking to the DA, at least not until she’s finished with her tryout. Besides, didn’t the LA DA cut Harrison a deal?”

  “He’s a newly appointed DA. The other one retired.”

  Harrison probably had the retired DA on his mob’s payroll.

  My mind was on high alert. “How does he even know Lacey is in town?”

  “He didn’t. He called me, and I told him he might be able to meet her to chat before she left LA. Look, I’ll text you the DA’s info. Talk to Lacey. I got a meeting to get to.” Then he hung up.

  I wanted to throw her phone through the window and into the fog that hung over the city.

  I growled as my brain worked overtime. Pack up and get out. If I knew it wouldn’t cause a fight between Lacey and me or ruin her chance to play baseball, I would whisk her away faster than the speed of light to a place that didn’t have news reporters, baseball, or anything that could set off her panic attacks. But I was living in a fairy tale.

  “Ha,” I said out loud. “Fairy tales have their own problems, enemies, and demons.” I laughed when a businessman dressed in a sharp striped suit strutted up to the elevators.

  He stabbed the down button, giving me a once-over.

  It took me a second to realize I’d walked out in my underwear.

  “Rough night,” I said as I casually made my way back to the room, not giving a shit about how I looked.

  When I waved the keycard in front of the metal panel above the doorknob, a pain gripped the back of my head. Then a dull throbbing began and so did the onset of a migraine. I hadn’t had a headache since I was in Maine for Lacey’s graduation. Which wasn’t that odd considering my headaches weren’t on a time schedule.

  Once inside, I glanced at Lacey, who was still curled up, sleeping soundly.

  As quietly as I could, I found my bag and popped some Advil before starting a pot of coffee.

  When the machine started gurgling, Lacey stirred before she opened her eyes. “Morning.”