by Kathy Lyons
“That’s not what I said!”
But it was. So when he went for me, I held up my hands to keep him away. He could have made me change my mind, but I knew he’d respect my boundaries. His moral code insisted on it.
And wasn’t that the hell of it? I wanted him because he was so honorable. Because he would go to the ends of the earth to protect someone he loved. I just wasn’t good enough to be that someone. And that shredded me.
“We’re done, Connor. Sorry I sullied your bed.”
“Gia! That’s not—”
“It is. And I’m out.”
It took me a moment of fumbling to find my purse and keys. Hell, it even took another minute to find my phone, and wasn’t that a sign of how far I’d fallen? My phone was my life. Every part of my career depended on me being hooked into social media and all the communications that flooded my smartphone. Yet here I was, scrambling to find it and too blinded by tears to read it once I got my hands on it.
Connor kept trying to approach me. He even said my name a couple more times. But I just turned my back on him until I’d finally dressed and shoved my things into my purse. I wanted to say something before I walked out, some dramatic phrase that would hurt him as deeply as he’d hurt me. But I had nothing.
So I just left. As fast as I could.
Chapter Thirteen
Connor
Every baseball player is familiar with the bobble. There are plenty of causes for that particular disaster, but usually it’s because you’d taken your eye off the ball. Or maybe your hand position wasn’t quite right, your feet were in the wrong place, or worst of all, you just couldn’t hold on. One moment, the ball felt solid in your hand. A moment later, it came alive, jumping right out of your glove.
But what made the bobble particularly awful was the time you spent in denial. You remembered clearly catching the ball. You knew you had it, and were looking beyond the catch to the throw. To the victory cheer. But it never happened.
Gia walking out of my apartment was just like a bobble. I’d done everything right. I’d spoken honestly. I’d been clear about my issues and the way I felt. Lying was endemic in our society, and it was wrong. Wrong. Surely, she understood that.
But the next moment, she was gone, and suddenly, I was thinking the woman I’d had in my arms wasn’t there anymore. The woman who’d asked for honesty didn’t sound like she was coming back. The woman who was the most important part of my pre-game ritual had been really angry. At me. And I wasn’t sure how that had happened.
Two weeks later, my bed still remained empty. I trained every day. I worked extra hard on my swing. And she published a second article on me, one that focused on proper technique and was half education, half profile of a man working hard at a skill. I saw her before games the way I used to. I’d peek in when she addressed the press or see her with her nose buried in her phone as she juggled social media balls that I couldn’t even fathom.
See? Nothing was wrong. Except the light had gone out of my life, and I was so busy denying it, I barely noticed.
I did talk to Sophia. I told her I was disappointed in her lack of professionalism. I asked her point blank if she’d lied about my past girlfriends. I pushed her on every doubt I’d ever had, but she was firm in her denials and teary-eyed that I would even question her. Didn’t I know how much she loved me?
I did know. I also knew she loved herself, and that her priorities got messed up sometimes. But I had no proof of my suspicions and Sophia had a way of making herself look like an innocent victim and me, the big bully. So I left it alone and resolved to watch her closely. Which took me right back to Gia.
Gia was a lot harder to talk to, especially since I sucked at small talk. I asked about her day, about her sister, about anything I could think of. She answered politely, professionally, and with enough warmth that I could pretend everything was fine. But when I asked her to come over, she said she was busy. When I mentioned Cassie’s game, she gave me a serious look and told me that it was very good—very good—that I was going to my sister’s game. It was as if there was special meaning there. And worst of all, when I went to touch her, she patted my hand fondly—like an aunt would her favorite nephew—and said, “Don’t be an idiot.” Then she walked away.
I’d bobbled with Gia, and I still wasn’t sure how.
So I concentrated on my game, on taking the Bobcats to the pennant, and even though I hit for shit, we were steadily marching our way to a glorious season. My most significant conversations with Gia were about Cassie. She often asked if I’d seen her, talked to her, or visited her on campus. Of course I had—as much as my job allowed—and when I asked about the intense look in Gia’s eyes, the woman would emphasize that it was good that I was staying close to Cassie. When I pressed for more details, she got a stiff look on her face and admitted that she and Cassie had been talking, on and off. And instead of being annoyed by that, I was pleased. I thought Gia would be a good influence on Cassie. But when I told her so, the woman just sighed and shook her head.
Clearly there was some subtext I was missing, but I couldn’t figure it out. Gia wouldn’t explain except to tell me to go talk to Cassie. But when I did, Cassie told me I was being an ass and to mother hen someone else.
Women! They made no sense to me.
Fortunately, I had plenty of male company. More time passed, and my hitting finally improved. I climbed to .295 and was a major factor in the division win. The team celebrated in style, but I spent the evening nursing a beer while watching Gia work on her phone, snapping pictures and uploading them to God only knew where on the internet.
I carried a beer to her, but she shrugged with an apologetic smile, and said, “A publicist’s job gets even busier when the team is doing well.” Then she put a Bobcats beer stein in my hand.
“Smile or take off your shirt,” she ordered, camera at the ready.
“What?”
“You heard me. Choose. Because right now, you look awful.”
I refused, but then Rob bumped into me from behind. He’d been kissing his girlfriend and had gotten a little too enthusiastic. The resulting fumble had spilled the beer onto me while Gia snapped a half dozen action shots. Me, covered in beer, looking ridiculous.
Internet gold.
Gia gave me a thumbs-up and left while I began thinking of ways to keep the guys focused for the playoffs. Excitement could destroy a team as much as depression. Keeping everyone steady on each game—instead of their World Series dreams—was a full-time job.
That was the reason I didn’t know about Gia’s birthday party. But once again, she proved that she could do what no one else could.
The Bobcat Stadium was sacred. No one got to take it over for a few hours. Certainly not for something as silly as a birthday party. Not without big bucks and some special connections. No one, that is, except Gia.
I had no idea how she managed it—she cut deals, sweet-talked the event coordinator, hell for all I knew, she had a genie who granted her wishes. But for whatever reason, two days before our series started against the Rangers, I learned that Gia was celebrating her birthday at the park, after hours.
And how did I find out? Because Jake told me. Jake, the playboy who had somehow convinced my cousin Ellie he’d reformed. Jake, the one who knew everything about getting into a woman’s pants and apparently also knew who was having an after-hours party in the owner’s box.
He and Ellie were invited. I wasn’t.
“Her whole family is coming. It’s like four birthday parties in one.”
“She shares her birthday with three others?”
“Nah. She doesn’t know her real birthday, so she goes with the day she was adopted, along with her sister and two brothers.” Jake winked at me. “Twelve years ago, her father was so disappointed that the Bobcats lost the division, he decided to adopt four winners to call his own. So off they marched to the courthouse with the whole extended clan, and wham, they became a family.”
I frowned at Jake. “
Adoptions don’t happen that quickly.”
“That’s not the point, man. Today’s adoption day. But since you can’t find a card that says that, it became her birthday. And now that we’re headed toward winning the pennant—”
“Don’t go getting cocky.”
Jake laughed. “I was born that way.” He was going to say more, but at that moment, Ellie half-walked, half-stumbled in, carrying a stupidly large present. Jake left my side without another word, rushing to help my cousin. I couldn’t quite get my head around the fact that they were engaged. I was still watching to make sure he didn’t screw up, but from the look on his face as he kissed her, it wasn’t likely now.
No problem. I had plenty of fault falling on my own head as I watched wives and girlfriends come in with presents for Gia. I knew she was well-liked, but seeing the steady stream of guests, I started to understand that she was far more important to the team than I’d thought. How many of these guys had she bailed out of publicity problems? Or perhaps boosted, with a well-timed tweet or a seemingly accidental photo op? She was there during all the games, which meant she hung out with the wives and girlfriends while we were playing. And I knew that she gave them all her number, just in case, the same way she’d done with Cassie. So it shouldn’t surprise me that there were so many people here for her party.
But that left me feeling like an idiot because I should have known about this. Instead, I was standing in the hallway, like the ex-boyfriend with his head up his ass.
“There you are!”
I spun around at the sound of Cassie’s voice, brightening immediately when I saw her smiling face. She’d obviously rushed to get here, but her eyes didn’t seem haunted as much as tired.
“Cassie! What are you doing here?”
“Are you kidding? It’s the one free night I’ve got all week. I couldn’t miss Gia’s party.”
She’d been invited, too. Now I really felt like a first-class asshole. She wrapped me in a quick hug which I returned a thousandfold. “Did you forget your present?”
I shrugged. “I don’t think I’m invited. I just found out about it.”
She laughed. “Stupid. Everyone on the team is invited. She said so.”
“When did you two become such fast friends?”
If I hadn’t been holding on to her, I wouldn’t have felt her body tighten. It was subtle, but I’d spent many hours holding my sister during her darkest times. I’d lived at the hospital when they allowed it. And when she finally broke and started telling me everything, we’d cried together as she’d lain curled on my lap.
So I knew she’d tensed at my question. And I saw when her eyes skittered away from mine. “I called her about some girl stuff a few weeks back. And she came to my game two days ago.”
A lie. I didn’t know exactly what part of what she said was wrong, but I knew she hadn’t told me the full truth. “Exactly what kind of girl stuff?”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Stuff for girls. And it’s handled. Gia can do anything. Anyway, she invited me then.”
“Details, Tiny Mutt. I know it wasn’t just girl stuff.” I would have pressed her further, but she tugged on my arm.
“Quit being a Big Doofus. And don’t worry about a gift. I’ll put your name on mine.” She flashed a grin at me. “You paid for it after all.”
She’d put it on my credit card. “What is it?”
“A Butler sweatshirt. She can’t be Bobcats all the time.”
“The hell she can’t.” I was teasing her, pleased to banter with my sister. Sure, there was still a reserve in her manner. I feared that the darkness might always haunt her. But she was so much better than she’d been a few years ago. And I had every reason to believe she was getting stronger every day.
Another time, I might have left Gia to enjoy her party without me, but I never gave up time with Cassie. So if my sister was going to the owner’s box, then I was, too. “Keep my name off your gift. I can give her something all by myself.”
My sister cast me a heavy sidelong look. “You sure? I mean, what happened? I thought there might be something between you two.”
So much for being the inscrutable older brother. “Um, whatever gave you that idea?”
“No one ever comes to your apartment but me. And then there was Gia.”
“That was just work—”
“And there’s something in your voice when you say her name.”
I frowned. “There is not.”
“Yeah, there is. That’s when you say her name at all. Which you haven’t.”
We were climbing up the stairs, but I stopped to stare at her. “There’s nothing going on between us.” Wasn’t that the truth?
“So say her name.”
“Gia Claire Kubic.”
“Yup,” she said with a nod. “There it is.”
“What?”
She shook her head. “Hell, if I know. I just hear it. So what’s up between you two?”
“Nothing.”
“Uh-huh. Unless it was something and now it’s nothing. That would suck, because she’s awesome.” She wrinkled her nose at me. “You were probably an idiot.”
I glared at my sister. She was not supposed to be able to make me feel uncomfortable. I was the big brother. I was supposed to grill her on her dates, not the other way around. “So what about you? Seeing anyone?”
She snorted. “And look, here we are at the party.” She detached from my side and headed inside, easily squirming around the hundred or so people there. I lost sight of her within seconds. There were too many people in the area, and nearly half of them were kids.
Looking around, I saw the guests represented all ages and ethnicities. Fortunately, I found someone I wanted to talk to relatively quickly. Joe DeLuce, the team owner, was standing behind a nearly empty tray of cheeseburgers, helping to serve some of the tiniest hands. I made it over to him just as a waiter maneuvered in with another tray of burgers piled dangerously high.
Joe and I quickly cleared some space for the tray, then we both stepped back as more kids pushed forward. I didn’t know how long I’d have with Joe, so I went straight to the point. “I wanted to mention that I think Gia’s done a great job on promoting me and the Bobcats. And…” I held his gaze a moment to make sure he focused on my next words. “And my sister had nothing to do with it.”
He nodded slowly. “I’m surprised to hear you say that. Sophia claimed—”
“Sophia gets overly enthusiastic with other people’s ideas and then thinks they’re her own.” His eyebrows rose, but he didn’t comment. “I just wanted to make sure credit was given where it was due.”
Joe’s gaze wandered out over the crowd. “I’m well aware of Gia’s talents. Why do you think she gets to have an adoption party here for half of the Indianapolis foster care system?”
I looked around with surprise. “Is that who everyone is?”
“Her parents couldn’t conceive, and so they became foster parents. Then adoptive parents. Then advocates. Gia pitched the party as a publicity thing, but I’m tired of posing for journalists, so I just told her to have a party. It’s more fun.”
I nodded as I looked around. My cynical eye caught all the cell phones out snapping pictures of the players with the kids. A million happy pictures uploaded to social media and talked about at school. “You don’t need reporters for this. You get good publicity from all the selfies.”
He arched a brow at me. “That’s not why I’m doing it.”
No, I could see it wasn’t. And it was only my ill mood making me see all the wrong things. Joe liked giving back to the community, and this was an easy way to do it. Especially since Gia probably did all the work.
Meanwhile, Joe took a casual pose as he asked the question of my entire month. “You going to break 300?”
He was referring to my batting average, and right there was why I hadn’t wanted the publicity in the first place. Any other time, a thirty point climb would be extraordinary. But because of the publicity, I now I
had to break 300. “Of course, I’m doing everything I can, but—”
“I’m not asking if you’re trying. Hell, everyone knows you’re trying. Thing is, I can’t look sideways at a reporter without him asking about it.”
“I’ll get us a home run against the Rangers. Things are really coming together for me. I can feel it.”
Joe arched a skeptical brow. Well, what the hell had he expected me to say? I had to fulfill the promise that Gia had created…which meant I had to deliver a home run against the Rangers. I must have looked slightly sick at the thought because Joe grunted in an affectionate male way.
“Don’t let the pressure get to you.”
“Not a chance,” I said. Hell, now I was lying straight to my boss’s face.
I was grateful when Joe was pulled into a group photo. That allowed me to slide into the crowd. I pretended I was keeping an eye on my teammates. All good guys, but some of them could be crass, especially after a few beers. But everyone was on their best behavior, and the truth was, I was really looking for Gia.
I found her near the front of the box, leaning back against the glass as she talked to her family. She looked the way she always did, curvy, with a riot of big mink-colored curls about her face. She was in heels but was still short compared to her brothers. But most of all, her face was alive with happiness. Joy shone through her eyes as she hugged her mother. I recognized everyone from the picture on her desk and marveled at how people with no genetic connection could look so similar.
Her parents were obviously of Irish descent. One brother was African-American, the other Latino, like Gia. Her younger sister had to be here somewhere, but I remembered from the photo that she was African-American as well. And yet, they all seemed like one family. Same bright eyes and easy smile. Same gestures as they spoke with animated hands and musical laughs. Their clothes were nice without being ostentatious, and the love between them shone like the sun.
I could see it in the way they touched each other. A casual squeeze of the arm or a more brotherly shove with a shoulder. They often found a way to connect with their mother, and I remembered doing that with my own. She would tousle my hair or pinch my cheek. When she was angry, she would flick her fingers at my lips. A tiny sting, a big guilt trip. I was sure she spanked me at some point, but what I remembered most was snuggling up with her in bed. Not just after she was sick, when that was the only thing we could do together, but even before. She would join me in my blanket fort, and she’d read aloud to me while I curled into her side.