“And…good-bye.” I click disconnect just as a text comes in.
Cole: Looooove you
My lips part into a wide smile. No matter how hard I try…I could never stay mad at Cole Callahan.
3
Cole
A fucking date? She can’t be serious. Since when do we do things without telling each other?
You just lied to her last night.
Totally different. Moving on. I’m sitting here waiting on Lana…like usual. The girl spends more time applying makeup before my practices than she does for date night. I’m still trying to figure out who the fuck she’s trying to impress. She’s already snagged a member of the Brewers. What the hell more could she want?
“Coley,” Lana’s high-pitched squeal calls from the door. I fucking hate it when she calls me that. It’s her way of attempting to take Makenzie’s place. Not happening. Ever.
“In here,” I call from my spot on the couch.
“Hey, babe,” she purrs while cozying up to me. I give her a quick peck on the cheek, but the entire act just feels wrong. “I brought you some Burger King Croissan’wiches, your fave.”
They’re not, but I don’t have the heart to tell her. I definitely prefer Dunkin Donuts, but only Makenzie knows that.
Ugh. Knock it the fuck off, man. Stop comparing everyone and everything to her. “Thanks, baby.” I grab for the bag, stomach rumbling with the need for food.
We eat in silence, watching highlights from the weekend on ESPN. I take a quick look at the clock.
“Time to bounce. I’ll call you later.”
“What? I can’t come?” she whines.
“Not today. Coach is in a mood. If you’re there, he’ll just make my life miserable.”
She pouts, but doesn’t say anything more.
“Can we plan dinner together tonight?”
“Can’t,” I remind her. “I have to catch a plane with the team.”
“Cole. This is ridiculous. I hardly see you.” Lana’s whiny voice is grating on my nerves, but smoothing things over will make this so much easier on me.
I don’t want to fight. I don’t have the energy today, and all things considered, Lana has put up with far more shit than she deserves. I grab her by the hips, pulling her toward me.
“I’m sorry, baby.” Those words are so loaded. I’m apologizing for not giving her more time, but I’m also apologizing for the cheating. She just doesn’t need to know that. I place a small kiss on her forehead. “We’ll have dinner when I get back.”
She looks up with a sparkle in her eye.
“Really?”
“Yes. Really,” I grumble.
“Can we invite some of the team? I’m sure the paparazzi would love a tip on where we’ll be.”
And there it is. That’s what it always comes down to. Fame. Money. Lana’s possible break into something bigger than being a baseball girl. It’s not about me, it’s about her.
“Sure.” It’s not worth another argument.
Lana presses her lipstick-covered mouth to mine. I close my eyes and think of blue eyes and blond hair slipping through my fingers.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she remarks between kisses.
I push her away roughly.
“Can’t you ever stop bitching?” I groan. “You know how this goes, Lana. Why do I keep having to explain this to you women?”
“Women?” she says, her teeth clenched.
She straightens, all five-four of her looking up at me with fury-filled eyes. I take her in. Black hair to her sculpted ass, green cat eyes and not a wrinkle to be found, compliments of Botox. From afar she’s gorgeous, but up close she’s just another painted-on face. She’s nothing like Makenzie.
I conjure up an image of my best friend. Long blond locks that are a tad wavy, crystal blue eyes, and not a wrinkle on her.
“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Lana shrieks, drawing my attention back to her.
“What? Get the fuck off my case.”
“Grow up, Cole. We’ve been together for eight years. If you are still fucking around on me, I’m out!”
I throw my hands up.
“You are such a dick,” she screeches.
“You’re right.” This has gone on way too long. Lana and I ran our course years ago. We’re still together only because it’s comfortable. To be honest, I’m not even sure I like her. She’s grown into a money-grubbing bitch.
She smiles, thinking I’m agreeing with her. And in a way, I am. “This is over,” I say. “You should go.”
I watch her confusion turn to rage. I prepare myself for all 100 pounds of her aggression being pummeled at me by way of her fist.
It doesn’t take long before her hand connects with my head. I’ll take it. There might be a knot close to my temple where she hit, but at least it wasn’t my eye. It’s the least I deserve for all the cheating. I should be pissed, but I can’t help the smug smile that crosses my lips at the fact that this thing with Lana is finally over.
I’m sitting in the airport, about to board a plane with my team. We’re headed to New York to take on the Mets. My phone buzzes and I see Makenzie’s smiling face staring up at me. I connect.
“Hey, babe.”
“Did you just call me ‘babe’?” Makenzie’s amused by my term of endearment.
“Whatever. What’s up,” I snap, irritated. It’s not her that has me tense, but I’m taking it out on her nonetheless.
“Sorry. I was just calling to wish you luck.”
I sigh, feeling guilty. “I’m sorry, Kenz. I’m just having a rough week.”
“What’s going on?” she asks, genuinely concerned.
“Just baseball shit and Lana isn’t helping things.”
She snorts. “When does Lana ever make things easy?”
“I ended things.”
She gasps. “What? Seriously?”
“Don’t act so surprised. You’re the one who’s been saying it was coming for years.”
She clucks. “I was giving her the benefit of a doubt that she’d end it. I’d have dumped your ass about two seconds after dating you.”
Her words sting. They aren’t anything new. She’s always made it clear she’d never date me, but it’s never hurt like it does now. I don’t say a word.
“Anyway. I just wanted to wish you luck and tell you I’ll be watching ya on the big screen.”
“You never watch my games.”
“I always watch your games…when you pitch,” she adds. “This time I have a date and…don’t get pissed, but he’s sort of a Mets fan.”
“What the fuck?”
“I know, I know. I told him the only way I would watch that game is wearing head-to-toe Brewers gear and he has to be prepared for obnoxiousness on my behalf.”
“I don’t even fucking care about that, Makenzie. Since when are you dating? I feel like you don’t tell me anything anymore.”
“Are you ragging it this week, Callahan? You’re acting like a…” She gasps. Obviously making fun of me. “Girl.”
“Cute, Kenz. Really fucking cute. I’m being serious here.”
She sighs.
“I’m sorry, Cole. We’ve both been so busy. Those 1 a.m. phone calls aren’t good for news about dating. It’s a new thing, anyway.”
“Is it the douche from the ‘study’ date?” I make air quotes despite the fact she can’t see me.
“First off, he’s not a douche. He happens to be a brilliant physical therapist who enjoys many of the things I do. Second, yes, it’s Dawson.” She exhales. “I reeeeaaalllly like him, Cole. Like big time. It’s kinda freaking me out.”
My blood runs cold.
“That’s huge, Kenz,” I murmur, feeling like someone punched me in the stomach. “I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks, Coley.”
My heart squeezes at the nickname. “And Kenz.”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have anything to worry about. He’s a lucky fucker to even score a date with you
.” She chuckles. “I have to run, we’re about to board.”
“Miss you.”
“Miss you more.” I end the call.
4
Makenzie
When Dawson called this morning and asked me if I wanted to watch the baseball game, I almost died from excitement. Of course I do. Today Cole is pitching against the Mets!
This was years in the making. A lifetime of dreams that molded every decision for as long as I could remember, finally coming to fruition. I wouldn’t miss it.
So I did what any BFF would do, I drowned myself in head-to-toe gear of my boy’s team. It’s unfortunate that the guy I like just so happens to be a Mets fan. I warned Dawson of what to expect, but no way was he prepared for how big a fan I was of Cole. I'm pretty sure I knocked the wind right out of Dawson’s sail when I walked into Paxton’s Grill. As I take steps toward where he's sitting, his eyes go wide and his mouth drops open. I grin.
Yeah, I’m a super batshit crazy fan.
I start to giggle to myself as I wonder what it is about my outfit that has him reacting. The Brewers shirt? Or the matching Brewers skirt? Nah, that can’t be it. Must be the temporary tattoo on my cheek. Yeah, that might have been overkill. “Wow. You said you were a fan, but I guess I didn’t realize how big a fan you were,” he says.
“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t bring my handheld banner.” His eyes widen even more. “Relax, I’m just joking. But yeah, I’m a huge fan. The Brewers’ pitcher this game, Cole Callahan, is my best friend. We grew up together, so I go a bit nuts when he’s pitching.”
“I had no idea. That’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah. It is.” I beam up at him. “We lived right next door to each other.” I shrug. “My older brother Jimmy played baseball, so I grew up watching.”
“You really like baseball?” he asks, genuinely curious.
“Absolutely. Going was second nature. Baseball is really what brought us together as friends.”
“Was it your love for baseball that made you decide to go into physical therapy?”
“Yeah. As we got older I would watch Cole play and seeing what he put his body through fascinated me. He is one of the main reasons I decided to go this route with my career. I really do love it. What about you?”
“Nothing as fun as you. Just want to help people,” he says and I melt.
Too perfect.
“What do you want to drink? The game is about to start,” he says.
I look at him like he’s on crack. “A beer, of course.”
He lets out a chuckle.
“You never know, some girls get wine—”
I cut him off.
“Hold it right there. I would never ruin baseball by not having a beer. I’m pretty sure it’s sacrilegious to drink wine while watching baseball.” I wink. “Besides, they may have renovated Paxton’s Grill, but does it look like the type of place that has a decent port?”
“Good point.” Dawson flags the waitress over and orders a pitcher. I lean back and wait for the game to start. I perk up as Cole and the rest of the Brewers file into the ballpark. As the national anthem is sung the camera pans across the players, and when I see Cole’s face, a tear collects in my eye. This never gets old, watching all his hard work pay off. I couldn’t be more proud. No matter what obstacles were placed in his path, he always overcame them. So to watch him standing up there as all his dreams come true might be one of the highlights of my life as well.
Pitching at Citi Field Stadium, yeah…pretty fantastic.
As the song finishes and the crowd cheers, the announcer intones, “The Mets take the field. Batting first for the Brewers is second baseman Pedro Ramirez…”
The commenter goes on as I take a sip of my beer. The bar is a mixture of cheers and curses. The excitement coursing through the room makes me feel at home. I smile as the Brewers get a run and then frown as Dawson cheers as they promptly get three outs after that.
“Cole Callahan steps up to the mound for the first time this season against the Mets. Callahan is on a streak, having pitched his last game into the ninth inning, only giving up three hits…” My ears perk up as the commentator lays out Cole’s stats. All eyes in the stadium are on him. I’m a bundle of nervous energy. It’s like I’m right there with him and pride swells through me as he throws out his first pitch. He looks great out there.
“Strike one,” the play-by-play announcer calls. I scream and jump and Dawson shakes his head. I turn to him. “What?”
“This is going be a long game, with you jumping up and down like that,” he says with a laugh.
“Be nice, I’m excited!”
His eyebrows lift as his dimple forms on his cheek.
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“Shhh, I’m missing the game.” I turn my attention back to Cole. Lifting my glass, I take another swig and enjoy the game playing out.
By the time it’s the fifth inning, I’m sporting a healthy buzz and I’m having a great time with Dawson. Through each inning, we chide each other, ripping on the skills of the opposing team. It’s fun and I’m so happy he asked me to watch the game. I sense it’s a real turning point in our relationship.
As the game enters into the sixth inning, we decide to order some food. Just as we are about to do so, I watch as Cole throws his next pitch. The camera is locked onto a close-up of him. Just as I’m about to smile it’s quickly replaced with an all-consuming dread as I see every muscle in his face contort in pain. My heart starts to hammer in my chest.
Something is wrong.
Something is seriously wrong with Cole.
5
Cole
Son of a bitch. That fucking hurts. I shake it off and pitch another three innings in a fuckton of pain. When the game ends—which we lose—I head straight to the trainer.
“Jude. I can’t flex my hand, man. I can’t pitch like this.”
He prods at my hand for a few minutes, stretching, poking, and ultimately trying to make me fucking punch him in the face through the pain.
“I have my suspicions, but we’ll need to run an X-ray and an MRI to rule out some other possibilities.”
“Anything serious?”
“I don’t think so. Go back to your hotel and get some sleep. Tomorrow you’ll need to get to the hospital for those tests. We’ll go from there.”
“Can I pitch next week?” But I already know the answer.
“We’ll see, but I’d venture to say no. I’ll contact Schmidt.” I groan, since Schmidt has to be the worst manager in the franchise’s history. “Go get some rest. Rest is key for these types of injuries. If you do what I’m telling you, chances are you’ll be fine to pitch at the next stop.” I nod. “And stop giving my phone number out to your girls.” I smirk.
“You should’ve never given it to me.”
“I didn’t have a choice.” He frowns.
“So, I take it Kenzie has already called?”
“Texted. You’re lucky I like that girl.” He grins.
When I get back to my hotel, I see I have ten missed calls from Makenzie. I should call her back, but I’m too fucking tired. I pop an ibuprofen, get some food, and call it an early night.
Sleep comes easily. The next morning, I wake up only to find that now I have twenty missed calls from her. I laugh at her persistence, but ultimately decide I need to call her back. We missed our 1 a.m. call. I’m sure she’s freaking out.
“Where the hell have you been? Are you okay? I saw the game! You were hurt.” Her words come out in a rush. I laugh.
“Fucking peachy, princess. Just some sore muscles. I have to get an X-ray and MRI, but everything is fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about?” she screeches. “X-rays and MRIs are not done for nothing, asshat. I’m coming there.” I smile at her protective tendencies.
“I’m fine and you’re not coming to New York. You have a test to study for.”
“I can study from anywhere. You need me.”
&nb
sp; “I don’t.”
She huffs. “I might have called Jude,” she says.
“Ridiculous.”
“That’s what you get for adding me as an emergency contact. It gives me rights.” Her voice is smug.
“That’s going to get changed.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I so would, Kenz.” She makes a choking sound and I laugh. “I’ll be fine, Makenzie.”
“Yes, you will, but I might already be in New York…” she trails off.
My entire body tenses. “Where are you?”
At that second there’s a knock at the door.
I open it and my breath hitches. Makenzie is standing there with a bright smile, tanned skin, and a dangerously short yellow sundress that has my dick perking up.
Fuck me, I’m in trouble.
“How the hell did you get my room number?”
“I might’ve called Jude again.” Her nose scrunches up, making her look nervous. I’m not mad. I listed Makenzie on my medical forms from the beginning. Jude knows that she’s one of the few people he can talk to about any of my medical issues.
“I need to have a talk with these idiots,” I tease. She smiles when she realizes I am not mad. “Come here,” I say, pulling her into a hug.
“I missed you so much.” She says it so quietly that I almost miss it.
“Makenzie. What’s wrong?” I close the door behind her and walk her to the couch before she breaks down in the doorway.
“I just got so scared when I saw your face on TV. I knew you were hurting. When you hurt I hurt, Cole. You know that.” A tear falls down her cheek. I swipe it away. “When you didn’t call me, I really thought something was seriously wrong. Jude told me he thinks it’s flexor tendinitis and I know I can help with that.”
I roll my eyes.
“He didn’t even tell me that much. Fucking prick,” I grumble.
“It was one professional to another.”
“You haven’t even passed your test yet,” I tease.
“I still graduated, I have a doctorate. I’m a physical therapist and I know what I’m doing.” She crosses her arms, only to push up her tits so the globes pop out of the top of that fucking sundress. My eyes go wide and I feel damn close to combusting.
Hard Ball Page 2