by Karen Rock
Garrett brought her palm to his mouth for a shivery kiss. “That you’ve been hurt enough. She’s worried another addict will put you through more pain.”
“Oh, Garrett. I’m sorry. I—”
He placed a finger against her lips, hushing her.
“It’s nothing you haven’t said. I’ve been questioning myself, too. I wasn’t sure if I’d drink again under the pressure of performing for the team and having the foster kids around. But it forced me to deal with old issues. Thank you for that.” He pressed her palm against the scratch of his jaw stubble.
“You’re welcome,” she breathed. Anticipation shook through her. Was he about to open up? Share his feelings about how they could be together?
“There’s only one answer,” he continued, ducking his head to give the center of her palm a light kiss. His fingers trembled slightly against hers.
“Faith,” her heart spoke for her, knowing deep down that it was all they needed.
His eyes flashed to hers. “You mean everything to me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “More than alcohol ever could. I don’t want my old life. Being numb. Not feeling pain or anything else. I’d miss out on all of the incredible things—like the way I feel about you. In your arms, the world makes sense.”
Her heart stuttered. She twined her hand in his, loving his calloused flesh against her tender skin. This blissful moment seemed too incredible to be real. “You care about me.”
He pulled her close and spoke softly into her ear. “‘You are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing.’”
She angled her face upward, wonder filling her. “That’s my favorite poet.”
“E.E. Cummings.” Garrett rested his chin beside her temple. “I read when I was bored. When I got through the children’s books, I moved on to poetry.” He wrapped one of her wavy locks around his finger. “That one suits you.”
So beautiful, she thought. Would she have ever guessed that this hotshot, recovering alcoholic pitcher would one day recite poetry to her? It was a dream.
“‘I think I made you up inside my head,’” she quoted from one of her favorite poems, meaning every word.
“Sylvia Plath.” Garrett gathered her hands in his and looked down at her steadily, his eyes tender. “We’re not imagining this, though. I said I needed someone who believed in me. But I have faith for both of us. Give me a chance. I’ll make you happy every day for the rest of your life.”
Her heart glowed bright. It was exactly what she needed to hear. However, this wasn’t all about her.
“I do believe you.” Even through his T-shirt, she soaked up his warmth and energy. “That people can change. That they won’t let me down. You never will.”
“Not in a million years.” The words were reverent enough to be a prayer.
She rested her head on his shoulder. Despite being pushed away, he still cared. Hadn’t given up. Had fought for her. He was everything she’d never wanted, but now, couldn’t live without.
“Do you trust me, Heather?” At the slight shake in his voice, she looked up. She glimpsed the foster boy asking Santa for parents.
“With my whole heart.”
His eyes blazed down at her with an intensity she’d never seen before.
He dipped his head, his lips a kiss away from hers. She swayed against him, flooded with feelings. She could feel her pulse at every pressure point. A wave of warmth rolled through her, and she tugged at her collar. His fresh, outdoorsy scent enveloped her, and her heart tripped over itself.
Garrett ran his hand through her hair, and every cell in her body vibrated with the gentle pull.
“Heather.”
“Yes.” It was hard to breathe.
“Kiss me.”
Garrett didn’t wait for an answer. Instead his lips met hers, and his arms slipped around her body. Within seconds, their mouths parted against each other. She lost herself, loving the way her body molded with his, how Garrett gripped her hair while he traced the ridges of her spine.
Shock waves and earthquakes. Both happened at the same time as their mouths coaxed and teased. She couldn’t get enough of him. The nearer she drew, the more she wanted to crawl inside this delicious world of warmth.
Garrett hooked an arm around her waist, and their breaths sounded in unison. Her fingers curled into the muscles of his arms.
As much as she loved this, however, it was time to slow things down. The relationship was all so new.
“Too much?” he asked, pulling away when her lips stilled against his.
“Not enough. That’s the problem.”
His devilish smile, full of male ego, made her swat him. He sat up straighter and held her tight against his side.
“Better?”
“Let’s just say it’s for the best.”
He rubbed the sensitive spot near the curve of her neck. “We have all the time in the world. I’m not going anywhere.”
Wonder filled her, a light that chased away the last of her shadows. She pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. “We can always count on us,” she sighed and snuggled closer. “I’ll never doubt that again.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GARRETT PUNCHED OFF his alarm clock and rolled onto his back, arms crossed behind his head. The past few days had blown his mind. Heather filled his thoughts nonstop. His heart, too. Every chance possible, he pulled her aside, kissing and holding her like he had after last night’s jog. Their conversations stretched long into the warm summer nights. Everything they had in common—baseball card collecting, caring about the camp and its kids, their mutual love of the sport—brought them closer. It was hard sticking to their decision to keep the relationship a secret until the season ended. Until they knew for sure that he was moving to the Majors. Hiding his feelings around the other guys was tough.
Watching her without wanting to touch her...to hold her? Not happening. Meeting her eyes without giving himself away? Impossible. He groaned, wishing he could see her now, though they’d be together later at practice. No matter how much time they spent together, it was never enough.
Amazing how all that he’d thought he’d never have—a loving relationship, a promising career—had come together. And the last woman he’d thought he’d ever care for was also the person who’d helped him achieve his dreams.
Everything was falling into place. He shoved off his covers. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he listened to the light rain tapping on his window.
Was he ready for all of these changes? Yesterday, Heather told him the scouts who’d watched him pitch Wednesday wanted him for the Majors. Neither he nor Heather had spoken up about what it meant to them. How they’d handle the separation.
What if he lost Heather because of distance? He’d spend a long season away with the Buccaneers, commuting when he could to Holly Springs. And she couldn’t join him on the road. She had a career of her own. He respected that. Wouldn’t ask her to sacrifice for him.
He strode to the bathroom and turned on the shower. While waiting for the old plumbing to warm up, he caught his reflection in the mirror. Strange that he looked the same. Inside, he was a new man. Heather’s doing. Somehow they’d stay together. Make it work.
Now he just had to get rid of those bottles. It was time. Overdue.
Beneath the lackluster water spray, he lathered up and shaved. He’d learn the details of his move today, which—going by Major League time—could mean he’d fly out tonight.
His stomach twisted sharply as he shoved back the dripping curtain. Saying goodbye to Heather would be hard. Even if it wasn’t permanent. But what choice did he have? He’d made this comeback bid for himself and Manny.
Yet Heather complicated things. He wrapped a towel around his waist and used another to dry off his hair, his mind far away. She said she trusted him. Would her doubts return when they lived apart?
If so, he couldn’t bear it. Growing up in the foster system was like living under a microscope. Every action examined. Questioned. Labeled. Guil
ty until proven innocent. That hadn’t been the case for all the kids in the group home, but it’d been his experience.
However, Heather no longer saw him as an addict on the brink of a relapse. A wild-card player who’d lose as often as he won. It’d taken her a long time, but she now counted on him. That belief meant a lot. Especially because it was difficult for her. He wouldn’t lose such a precious gift. Before heading into the stadium, he’d swing by his car and toss those bottles as far as he could throw them.
He pulled on his practice uniform and headed for the kitchen. He hoped Levi was feeling better. Some bug had kept him from camp this week, and he missed the kid. Garrett still didn’t know what had bothered him the night the Falcons had clinched the playoffs. They still needed to clear that up. Plus, if he left soon, he had to reassure Levi he’d come back. That he was only a phone call away. He wouldn’t repeat his mistakes with Manny.
If he had to, he’d swing by the foster home on his way to the airport...he pictured Heather accompanying him, but his mind veered away from how they’d part. Would there be kisses or tears?
The phone rang as he poured water into the coffeemaker. Heather’s name on his cell’s screen got his pulse speeding. This was early. Did she have news about his move or just want to talk? He tapped the speaker button on. Scooped the pungent granules into the machine’s top.
“Hello?”
Immediately a gurgling sounded, drowning out whatever Heather said.
He crossed the housing unit’s efficiency kitchen to get better reception. At the table by a small window, he sat and looked out at the old field. Small puddles of rain gathered in depressions. Streams snaked down the baselines. It’d be a long, wet day. Possibly his last in Holly Springs.
“Heather?” he tried again.
“Yes.” Despite the distance from the sputtering machine, he strained to hear her low voice. He brought the phone to his ear.
“Morning, beautiful. Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.” He recalled how long they’d lingered last night and smiled. When had he kissed her good-night? Two? Three o’clock in the morning?
Practice wasn’t for another couple of hours. No need for her to be up. As for him, he planned on throwing early. Being in top form before debuting in the big leagues. His pitching was under control, but he had to be sure. Besides, nerves left him with plenty of excess energy to burn.
“Yes. Well...” Her distant voice trailed off, and a humming sensation vibrated beneath his skin. Something wasn’t right.
“Is everything okay?”
When the coffee stream slowed to a drip, he prowled to the cabinets, phone in hand.
“Can you come to the office?” He heard more than the usual fatigue in her voice. Yes, they’d been up late last night, but her tone sounded more serious than that. Did she have the final information on his move? Strangely, instead of mixed emotions, his heart tripped in his chest and fell, heavy and hard.
He poured the coffee and leaned against the counter.
“Did the Buccaneers call?”
“Yes. But there’s something else.”
He gulped the scalding black brew. “What did they say? Am I leaving today?”
“Just come quickly. Please.”
A soft buzzing sound ended the call. He stared at his cup before placing it in the sink. She’d said she was excited about his Major League move. Yet he wondered if, deep down, she was upset. He was. Her terse responses, however, sounded more ominous than parting jitters.
His mind ran over possibilities as he shoved his feet into his sneakers and yanked on his cap. Did her mood have something to do with Levi? Had the boy gotten worse? Worry sawed through him. Or had something happened with Heather’s mother? A relapse? Heather had come far. She trusted her mother. And him. Having that faith challenged would devastate her.
He zipped up his rain shell, grabbed his bag and ducked outside. A fine mist fell from purple-bottomed clouds. He slammed the door shut. At a dead run, his feet pounded down the muddy path that led to the main office.
Whatever it was, he’d be there for her. If the Majors needed him tonight, they’d just have to wait.
* * *
HEATHER STOOD AT the window facing the distant, fog-covered Appalachians, her mind even farther away. When a deep shiver lanced through her, she released a shaky breath and zipped up her sweatshirt. She glanced over at Mr. Lettles. In a chair opposite her desk, he crossed and uncrossed his legs, his face pinched into disapproving lines. How could his story be true? A sickening nausea clawed through her bloodstream.
“Mr. Wolf should be here any minute.” She forced herself to return to her seat, though every instinct told her to run. Hide. Leave this all-too-familiar situation. The crisis echoed through the twisted corridors of her childhood memories. Her fingers massaged the painful pulse that’d penetrated her temples. “And please know how sorry I am about Levi. This kind of thing should never happen.” Ever, she added silently.
Mr. Lettles nodded, his expression grave.
Stay calm, Heather reminded herself. Garrett had to have an explanation. “We would not have anticipated this and don’t condone it.” She focused on the steady movement of her breathing. In...and out. In...and out. A rhythm that should settle her. Only it didn’t.
A knock sounded on the door, and Garrett’s face appeared in the opening. For a moment, everything fell away but the man who meant so much. Someone who, possibly, had betrayed her on the worst level.
“Come in,” she barely whispered, then repeated it. Louder.
Garrett strode into the room but pulled up short when he glimpsed Mr. Lettles. Emotions crossed his face. She read each one. Surprise, confusion, worry...but no guilt. Interesting, considering the facts.
“Please have a seat, Mr. Wolf.”
His blue eyes darted to hers and a muscle jumped in his jaw at her formal address. In the office chair, his long body looked impossibly large.
The air-conditioning whooshed and the rain drummed on the roof as she struggled to speak.
“What’s this about? Is Levi okay?” Garrett turned toward Mr. Lettles.
“No,” Mr. Lettles snapped, his voice sharper than she’d ever heard it. “He’s not.”
Garrett bolted from his chair. “Is he in the hospital? I’ve been calling the foster home this week, but they said he had some kind of stomach bug. Didn’t want visitors...”
Heather signaled Garrett to sit again. “Levi slipped in the shower last night and broke his arm.”
Garrett paled, his knuckles purple against the chair’s arms. “Will he need surgery? Is it his throwing arm, his left arm?” His voice rose in obvious concern, adding to her confusion.
He genuinely seemed to care. Then again, addicts could lie their way through anything. Her heartbeat stuttered to a halt. Could this be one of those times? She trusted Garrett, thought they were past him keeping secrets but these facts made it hard to hold on to her slipping resolve.
“Luckily it was a clean break of the right radius. No surgery required.” Mr. Lettles gave her a significant look. As in Hurry up and get on with it. Question Garrett.
Still. She hesitated.
It was like pricking herself with a needle. She could barely bring herself to do it. Her eyes lingered on a desktop picture of her father with the team that’d won the last league championship. He would have handled this situation directly. Not let sentiment get in the way.
She pulled back to that place inside that buffered her from pain. After reconciling with her mom and opening up to Garrett, she’d never thought she’d need it again—but there it was, waiting, as though it knew she’d be back. Soon.
“Is Levi asking for me? I can shoot over there now before practice and—”
“That won’t be necessary,” she broke in. “Any contact between you and Levi is prohibited until we’ve conducted an investigation into this.”
From the floor, she produced a bag with a local liquor store label and two empty bottles of whiskey.
/> Garrett’s face tensed, the flash of guilt in his eyes making her stomach bottom out.
“Do these belong to you?”
His nostrils flared and his eyes darkened. “Yes.”
Heather’s hand splayed across her chest. “Can you explain how Levi might have gotten hold of them?”
He shook his head, looking shell-shocked. “They were in my trunk.”
Her airways no longer worked. Small lights fluttered in the periphery of her vision. Hadn’t Garrett sobered up? If he had, then why purchase liquor? At the very least, he should have told her—an omission was as good as a deception. Could he have duped her so completely? Hidden it from her? She thought back to her years with her mother. She’d fallen for this act many times. Possibly had been fooled again.
She would have given herself a kick, but she was already down.
“Levi fell in the shower because he was drunk,” Mr. Lettles interjected, his hands clenched on his lap. “He said he got the alcohol from you.”
“That’s not true.” Garrett’s insistence sounded sincere, and despite everything, Heather found herself believing him. He might have lied to her and himself about his sobriety, but he genuinely cared about Levi. She doubted he’d put a child in danger. But by the sound of Mr. Lettles disapproving cluck, he blamed Garrett.
“Would you explain why it was in his possession?” Heather asked.
Garrett tried to meet her eye, his expression conveying a message she could read easily. He was innocent. He wouldn’t endanger a child. And although she sensed that much was true, that another explanation for Levi’s behavior existed, the fact that he’d had the liquor at all made him guilty of breaking her trust. It was all too familiar. Her life in reruns.
“I can’t explain it,” he insisted. “Maybe he snuck into my trunk to get it? I’m not sure. Whatever happened, I wouldn’t give a child alcohol. Heather, believe me.”
Heather’s stomach lurched, and a high-pitched buzzing washed away his voice. She twisted her hands in her lap, her fingernails scraping over her flesh until she was as raw on the outside as she felt on the inside. She felt flayed, but not by his supposed culpability over Levi. He’d already admitted to, possessing a substance he’d sworn never to abuse again.