by Katie Rae
“What did you see?”
“Keith on the phone, saying he was ‘headed up to the intern’s room for another quick fuck’.”
“That’s impossible.” Wasn’t it?
“It’s not impossible.” It had to be. “Those were his exact words. And he didn’t know I was listening, so he had no reason to lie. Just fucking talk to him. Tell him to get his head in the damn game. You take the lead on this. That’s your job.”
I was nodding, but in full disbelief. Fernandez had to be mistaken. Becca was a lot of things, but she wasn’t promiscuous.
Was she?
Fuck! I hated that I was even questioning her based on one sentence from Fernandez. Who, by the way, dropped that bomb and then walked off, telling us he needed to piss.
I was alone in the conference room for God knows how long trying to piece this information together.
I didn’t have a right to hold Becca to a monogamous relationship when we had never really discussed it. I could acknowledge that.
But in turn, that made me think that if this bothered me so much, maybe we needed to have that discussion. I wanted us to have an actual relationship, not just be fuck buddies.
Would she be open to that? Or is she too young and sowing her wild oats with Keith Sanders, me, and whoever else?
Nope. Again, that didn’t feel right.
Nothing that we had talked about or did together indicated she was with anyone else but me. Hell, she had battled herself and her feelings since day one, trying not to lose her grasp on her job.
Sure, she went and blew that to fucking hell when we finally surrendered to one another. But I was convinced that we were the exception. We were worth it.
We were inevitable.
So, it didn’t feel as wrong as it would if she were with someone else, much less more than one person.
I stood from the table, knowing I had to get to work, and still had no idea how I would handle this. All I knew was I wasn’t talking to Keith until I talked to Becca. I may be pissed, but I cared too much about her to not speak with her first. I also knew there was a chance Fernandez was wrong.
She was going to be so pissed when I mention this news came from Manny Fernandez. I could practically see her ears steaming.
I stopped in the doorway, halting abruptly. I turned back to face the empty room like it held a million people. I looked around, my thoughts all coming together in a wave of relief and sanity.
It was right then that I knew in my gut that Fernandez was lying.
He hated Becca.
He hated what she did to him.
He hated that I punched him for her.
He hated that she ended up being right.
He was lying. He was trying to discredit her.
And Keith was a good fall guy. He was distracted, but he wouldn’t get in trouble. He was too low on the totem pole for the suits in the front office to worry about.
Becca would be ruined.
I also knew Fernandez chose to tell me for a reason. He wanted me to be the one to blow the whistle and give Becca a reason to hate me after I punched his face for calling her a bitch.
What he didn’t know, was that since that day, Becca had buried herself in my life way deeper than my need to defend her honor over name-calling. I was in so deep with her that I would stop at nothing to see to it that Manny Fernandez never played another game with this team again if he so much as looked at her the wrong way.
In the meantime, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of upsetting Becca. She didn’t need to know what Fernandez was accusing her of. She didn’t need his bullshit at the forefront of her mind.
She had enough to deal with around here.
The thought that it may spook her into cutting things off with me flitted through my head. I wasn’t proud of myself for it, but I would be lying if I said that that was the reason I wasn’t telling her about this.
Chapter 22
Becca
“Chase? Where are we going?”
“You know I like to surprise you,” he winked and shifted gears as he sped up onto the interstate.
“Disney World again?” I guessed, even though we weren’t headed in that direction this time.
He just silently shook his head no.
We were down to seven days before Spring Training ended. I was happy and sad at the same time. The whole experience had been harder than I anticipated, but more rewarding than I had imagined.
Chase and I had talked about it briefly and both came to opposite conclusions; he thought I would be hired on for the season, I thought no way in hell was that happening.
But for the most part, we didn’t talk about work.
Tonight, after we finished his PT and showered—together—he told me to get dressed. He wanted to take me somewhere.
I snuck down to the parking garage this time, sparing poor Calvin and his wheelchair from Chase’s craziness.
Once we were on the road, I felt free. It was so easy to pretend we were regular people, going on a date. Disney didn't count. So much had change between us since then.
When he wasn’t shifting the car, his hand was in mine. His sexy forearm rested on my thigh, and I held onto it with the hand he wasn’t holding. I gently brushed the soft skin on the inside of his arm, causing goosebumps to form every so often. He would turn and smile at me, sometimes lifting my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles.
Everything was different.
Better.
Scarier.
But better.
I was getting worried that in seven days, when we had to go back to the real world, I wouldn’t be able to walk away from him. We hadn’t discussed what we were, or what we wanted. What we had right now seemed to be the only important thing.
I looked out of the window as the car slowed into a big, empty parking lot. I had lost track of the drive and where we were while I was busy daydreaming. So, I wasn’t entirely sure where we were.
Once Chase parked, he made his way to my side of the car and helped me out, keeping my hand tightly in his. I could hear the sound of the ocean and the waves breaking in the background. I smiled.
“The beach,” I whispered.
“The beach,” he repeated, with a smile.
He led me to the edge of the parking lot where a boardwalk started and led out onto the sand. We were only five steps on the boardwalk when the ocean came into view.
The moon was shining over the water and provided us with the only light for miles. This was not the first time I had seen the ocean, but it was the first time I had seen it at night, hand in hand with a man.
I was a little nervous and hoped, for just two seconds, that Chase wasn’t a serial killer. I guess if I had to die, this wasn’t the worst way to go. That thought was fleeting and I laughed at myself for considering it.
“What’s so funny?” Chase asked.
“Just thinking how this is a great place to murder someone. You’re not a serial killer, right?”
Chase smirked at my blunt response and shook his head. “I guess I should be thankful you are considering your safety, since keeping you safe has suddenly become vital to my sanity.”
I stopped walking and looked up at him, “Yeah?”
“Since seeing that ball hit your head, I have been insane every time your feet touch that field during a game.”
I waved him off, but I knew it was true. I could see his eyes every time I walked to the mound to talk to Ethan or Eddie, or when I went to help one of them stretch down the foul line. He worried. And he was ready to catch the next ball that was thrown my way.
But that wasn’t going to happen. Security was now aware that throwing baseballs at employees on the field was a thing—something they had to be wary of. Not to mention, most fans were amazing. I wasn’t going to let the actions of a jealous few scare me into thinking that would happen again.
We continued walking to the end of the boardwalk and slipped our flip flops off before walking into the soft white sand. We walk to the edge
and let the cool water ebb and flow onto our feet as we walked.
For a while, our walk was silent, and I used that time to let my mind wander. What could Chase and I have outside of Florida? Outside of hiding and lying?
I daydreamed about seeing each other in public, holding hands and telling everyone we were together. I imagined telling my family and bringing him home to meet them. I even imagined my brother being happy for us—which was a pipe dream because Cam would hate me dating a baseball player, especially one he considered a friend.
“Do you like kids?” Chase asked, out of the blue.
These random questions were how I found out he loves to cook, believes in aliens, and that he doesn’t dance. But they were getting deeper and deeper the more we asked. I didn’t want to get too deep right now and ruin the mood. Especially with the uncertainties of our future.
So, I answered his question, and asked another question, hoping to change the subject. “I like kids, they’re funny. Are you superstitious?”
He eyed me knowingly and smiled. But ultimately, he let me change the subject.
“Isn’t every baseball player superstitious to some degree?”
“I see Ethan do a tap dance with his toe several times before he takes the field each inning. Eddie only lets me wrap his wrists clockwise. Kris plays the same song 3 times every morning before walking to the field. Manny takes some secret vitamin every morning. Kace….”
“Wait. Fernandez does what?”
I blinked, thrown off for a minute by Chase’s abrupt interruption.
“What?” I asked, unsure what he was asking.
“Fernandez does what?” he repeated, calmly.
“I saw him taking some pills when I first started. He told me they were vitamins and more for his superstition than anything.”
“Vitamins?”
“That is what he said.”
“Princess, the odds of Fernandez taking ‘vitamins’ because of superstition is well below zero. Keep an eye on him. No, wait. I will keep an eye on him.”
“Oh shit,” I muttered, feeling slightly guilty for believing Manny so easily. There was a chance Chase was wrong, too, though. I decided I would be keeping an eye on him, either way.
Chase pulled my hand and continued our walk, shrugging off the errant way our conversation trailed. He picked up right where we left off. “I have a few superstitions. They vary to some degree. When I am hitting good, I try to keep up the same routines. When I am in a slump, I do a different set of things. It all depends.”
“You’ve been raking these past few weeks.”
He squeezed my hand and winked at me, “I have also been keeping my same routine.”
I blushed. Ever since he had me up against that right field wall, he’d been hitting baseballs over the fence right and left. His catching game has been on point as well. Not to mention, he hadn’t complained of knee pain in a while. Of course, I chalked that up to the work we had been doing and not so much how many times we’d been in bed together. Or against a wall. Or in the shower.
“Just doing my part to help the team,” I joked, getting a small laugh from Chase.
We walked in the moonlight a little further, conversation flowing smoothly. Once we went so far, we turned around and walked back.
This was such a simple night, but I felt like this was the most monumental thing I had ever done. We were solidifying a connection that we both knew we were bound to break in a few days.
Spending all our time in bed, as amazing as it was, didn’t feel natural. I wanted to eat with him, walk with him, laugh with him, talk with him. He was making all the risks and lies worth it.
I was scared, but I couldn’t stop.
Besides, I knew with the trouble my presence had caused this spring that I wouldn’t be getting the long-term job anyway. Being with Chase was my solace—not my goal when I got here, but something that made this time away worth it in the end.
Once we got back to the parking lot and near the car, Chase stopped our walk. He faced me, holding both of my hands as he looked down at me. I smiled up at him, quiet, and waiting on whatever was floating through his mind to surface to his lips.
“How is it I don’t even know your last name?” He smiled at the question, but I was sure I went pale.
At this point, I should tell him. I promised myself that if I was ever asked, I would be honest. But, as I predicted, no one asked. As close as Chase and I had gotten, it was a natural question I suppose. And if we were any other people, I would tell him. It’s just a last name, after all.
But would he connect me to Cam? And how would knowing who my brother was affect our next seven days? Would he be mad?
Cam had been around for the last week and a half, coming to games and hanging with the guys in the evenings. Apart from the one-night Chase went out with them, he had been making lame excuses not to join them. Instead, he was spending all his time with me. But I knew he thought the world of Cam—he had said so in one of our many conversations. Which was, of course, another subject I had changed quickly.
“Because you’ve insisted on calling me Princess, or Cupcake, or… what was it? Lady Goliath? Crazy Kingkiller?” I was deflecting, smiling and hoping he forgot to ask again.
“Well, I am not wrong. You are a King Killer.” He pointed to himself, "I am an Atlanta King, and you’re killing me.”
I barked a laugh at his lame joke but smiled at his charm. I was also pleased with my plan to deflect, so I kept talking.
“Well,” I started swinging our intertwined hands and looked up to him, “Mr. Atlanta King, this has been the best night. There is just one thing missing.”
He raised an eyebrow in question. Nothing was missing; this was the perfect way to spend time with him. But I needed to continue distracting him from his question.
“If only you knew how to dance," I joked.
He smiled and looked up to the sky, “Ok, I see what you’re trying to do here.”
Wait? Did he?
When he looked back down at me, his gaze was part cockiness and part mischief. He let go of one of my hands and reached into his pocket. He thumbed his phone for a minute before setting it into the sand at our feet.
When he took my hand back, he placed it on his shoulder and then placed his hand on my back. We were poised for a slow dance just as the music started playing.
He pulled me closer, his mouth to my ear. His breath was a whisper, “I said I didn’t dance, not that I couldn’t.”
We stared swaying in time to the soft country melody he had turned on. Ironically, the song was about slow dancing in a parking lot.
This moment was everything.
As the song came to an end, our soft sway did as well. I propped up on my tiptoes and whispered into his lips, “Your secret is safe with me,” before kissing him with as much passion as I could give.
Chapter 23
Chase
Every time I tried talking about being exclusive and being together long term, the subject somehow changed. I was not sure if Becca was doing it on purpose or if she was just naïve to the fact that I wanted more from her.
From us.
Or maybe she didn’t believe that was an option.
I had never wanted an actual, long term, exclusive relationship. I was 33 years old and had been fine as fuck being solo.
But in a matter of weeks, I could no longer stand the thought of not being with Becca. And as scary as that was, I was ok with it. I was ready for it.
I didn’t plan on it. I didn’t see it coming or try to make it happen. I originally couldn’t see having her in my life past a few nights in my bed.
Now, I just wanted her all the time. Everywhere.
Not shouting it from the roof tops was harder than I thought it would be, too. I had to stop myself every day from running through the locker room and shouting, “Mine,” every time Becca walked by. I was even close to having her a jacket made that said Property of Chase Turner on the back. Or maybe some stickers. Fuck, I c
ould put stickers on everything.
I was sure it was the secrecy of our relationship that had me thinking of wild ways to claim her. Because all I really wanted was to just turn to Kris or Ethan and say, “Hey man, Becca is my girl.”
That couldn’t happen. Not as long as we were both working here. And as much as I wanted to beg her to work with another team, I would never ask her to compromise her career and dreams for me.
Which brought me back to my initial train of thought: How long could I keep hiding how I felt about her? How long could we make it work like this? Was talking about an actual relationship even worth it?
I was sitting at my locker, getting ready for the game the day after our beach day. Surely, I had “daydreamer” written across my forehead. Someone needed to snap me out of it so I could focus on the game.
On cue, my phone rang.
“Yeah?” I answered, still slightly in my head with Becca.
“Chase, good news, man!” It was my agent, Tim. He didn’t call me much, so I perked up instantly at his words.
“I need some good news. What’s up?”
“I am getting on a plane tomorrow and headed to Florida. The big wigs for the Kings have been watching your game the last few weeks and want to negotiate that big contract before the season starts next week.”
“What?” I stood up from my stool in shock. “That wasn’t supposed to happen until next year.”
“I have only caught a few of the televised games so far, but you’ve been playing better than I have ever seen you play. I guess they see it too and want to lock you down.”
Hell yeah. This was the best-case scenario in terms of my future. This meant I didn’t have to get through another year with these knees, I just had to get through the next few days.
Once the contract was signed, I could scale back and rest the way I should have been doing all along. Which would make Becca happy; and I was suddenly antsy to tell her.
I wrapped up my conversation with Tim. He was flying in tomorrow, having meetings with the top dogs of the team, and would let me know what their offer was. If I accepted, we would go ahead and meet up for contracts and legalities.