He butts his head against mine and breathes in deeply. “God, I don’t want to live another life without you in it.”
“Perhaps you won’t get traded?” My voice is weak because we both know that’s more like wishful thinking than anything.
“One can only hope. I guess we’ll find out next week.”
Next week. Why does the air suddenly feel thick? I want to scream at the unfairness of it all. “I guess we take this one step at a time?”
“Casual?”
“Casual.” I nod in agreement. This is for the best, it really is, but it feels like a dirty freaking curse word. Which makes no sense because even if he was staying, I couldn’t have anything long-term. He’s still a baseball player and will still be dragged away for long periods of time.
“Can we still do this if we’re keeping it casual?” His lips slam against mine, and when my back hits the seat cushion and slides off to the floor, he lifts off me, laughing. “Well, that wasn’t so graceful.”
“Nope, but this is.” I join our mouths together, and the moment we connect, I know it doesn’t matter if this is wrong. It doesn’t matter if this is right. The only thing that matters is that we feel. If our time is short, then we need to make the most of it. I can do casual. I can do whatever label he wants to slap on it as long as he keeps pressing those lips against mine. I sweep my hair off to the side, and his mouth zeros in on my shoulder
“God, Mia, you taste so fucking good. I love the way you feel beneath me.”
“AJ, I have to have you. Please don’t tell me you’re going to be another gentleman tonight.”
He grunts. “Are you sure because you know I’m leaving.”
“Yes, I’m sure. I just don’t want you to stop. I need you to fuck me tonight.”
“Don’t worry. There won’t be any stopping tonight. That I promise.”
With those words, he lifts me off the floor and carries me to my bedroom. My back hits the mattress, and it’s not long before he makes good on his promise.
Chapter Twenty-Six
AJ
Current Day
Anger, excitement, and regret roar inside me as the words of my agent sink in. Officially traded. Why is Mia’s beautiful face the first thing I think of? Maybe because we’ve been casually seeing each other every day since our declaration. Who knew being friends could be this much fun?
Besides the awesome sex, we have been doing other things, including the appearance for the calendar drive. When I walked into the store, I thought I was going to be mauled by the crazy women. After they distributed calendars to various stores, Mia and Nala sold their stash quickly. What took a long time was me. I bet I signed over two hundred calendars. My hand is still sore, but we had fun. Mia was happy, and that’s all I cared about. Wanting to make sure there wouldn’t be any repercussion, I had cleared the event with my PR representative. She said if there weren’t any advertisement for opposing sponsors, I’d be clear. Didn’t matter. I was showing up anyway, but I thought the heads-up would be appreciated.
After the thought of leaving Mia sinks in, cue the anger. It doesn’t matter that we just got reacquainted. It’s a simple fact; I don’t want to leave her. Again. Besides, I like her. A lot. After our first date, I realized how badly I want to continue seeing her. But a bigger question looms overhead. How can we carry on a relationship—a new one that hasn’t been defined—with three thousand miles between us?
I push off the bed. As soon as the teams make the official announcement, my phone will blow up, and I don’t think I’m ready to talk to everyone.
After the caffeine works its way through my veins, I check for phone messages. One missed call from Mom. Huh. It’s six thirty in the morning. Why is she calling this early?
“Mom, what’s up?”
“Your sister didn’t come home last night.”
I hold back a sigh. If Mom suspects the slight trace of annoyance from me, she’ll unleash her frustration toward me.
“I’m sure she’s with Drake again.” So much for her promise. “Did she say if she was going out with him?”
“She said friends. Why does she keep doing this to me?”
Because you smother her too much.
“Mom, Cara’s nineteen. A sophomore in college. She’s just trying to...” God, what’s the term Mia used? “Explore her options.”
Mom’s harrumph can be heard for miles.
“I get it. Cara’s your baby, and Lord knows the crap I put you through, but you need to let her be on her own.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I know you don’t, but look at it from her perspective. She’s living at home instead of the dorms, so she’s already missing part of the college experience.”
“You act like you’re okay with her shacking up with this Drake character.”
“No, I’m not happy at all.” I leave out how he’s a womanizing twat. “But I’ve already told her this. She has to make her own decisions.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Neither do I.” I pause to see if she’ll add anything before I break the news. When she remains quiet, I add, “I heard from my agent this morning.”
“You leaving?”
That’s Mom. Straight to the point.
“Yeah, looks like you need to become a Dodgers fan.”
“At least you’re not going to the Mets.”
“I’d be closer.” Closer to Mia.
“Sure, but there’s no stinkin’ way I could ever root for them.”
Leave it to Mom to have her choice subjected by the division. The New York Mets have been the Phillies rival for years, and Mom’s been around long enough to remember each time they’ve edged us out. But not these past two years.
“The Yankees would’ve been nice.”
“You’re no longer my son.”
I laugh. I know she’s only kidding. I think. “I’ll get hold of Cara and have another talk with her. If she doesn’t pick up, I’ll call Drake. I programmed his number in case this happened again.”
“Thanks, AJ.” She pauses. “You seem down. Are you okay with the move? I always thought you liked the west coast.”
“I do. I’ll be fine.”
We exchange our goodbyes, and I no more than disconnect when the flood of texts and calls come in. The news must’ve broken. While on the way to the bedroom, I fire off a message to Cara instructing her to text Mom that she’s safe. Time to change into workout gear. There’s nothing better than a few sets of barbell bench presses and squats to relieve aggravation. And Cara has me tipping the top scale. What I really want to do is call Mia, but she’s tied up with a photo shoot this morning. Instead, I shoot her a text telling her I have news and then power down the phone. Mia will hear about the trade deal before I can tell her, but at least she’ll know I tried. We’ll talk later after I deal with Cara. It’s the matter of having Cara return my call that is the problem. Our last discussion didn’t go so well.
* * *
What am I supposed to do with this? Sobbing females aren’t my thing. I’ve spent most of my life avoiding these situations. Part of the reason why I hadn’t had a girlfriend since the fifth grade back when I told Kimmie Beecham I was going to marry her. A week after confessing my love, I broke up with her, and she burst into tears. I never thought I’d have to deal with this crap again. But the universe plays dirty, and as an added cruel joke, God sent me Cara.
Most of the time I love her, but I’m not going to lie; her crying on my shoulder has me freaked. Between each snuffle, I worked out that she and Drake broke up. Or they’re fighting. Hard to tell. I just hope it’s something I can kick his ass for. He’s had it coming for a while.
“Tell me again what happened.”
She backs away and sniffs. But her shoulders stop that shaky thing they were doing. As she peers up at me, her eyebrows scrunch together, and she looks at me as if I’m an idiot. Maybe I am. I don’t speak sobbing gibberish.
“He”—Cara’s breath stutters
in her throat—“was happy.”
Happy? “What’d I miss?”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “He was happy about you being traded.”
“Well, yeah. That means he slides into my spot.”
“I know, but I was clearly upset, and he danced around like an idiot. An idiot!” She springs from the couch and starts pacing with her hands waving up and down. “He was whooping and hollering like some three-year-old.”
My jaw clamps down before I say something regretful. The guy’s a dick, but he’s also Mia’s brother.
“Who even does that?” She turns her tear-streaked face toward me and looks as if she’s going to cry again. “What kind of a person does that make him when he could clearly see how upset I was?”
“A furkin jerk.”
“Furkin?”
“Mia’s trying to curb my swearing.”
Her eyes bulge and jaw drops. “You?”
“I’m not that bad,” I say half-annoyed.
“Uh…okay, big brother.”
My smile’s tight, but it’s enough to calm her down.
“What am I going to do with you gone?” She plops down on my couch like she’s lost the will to live. “You’re my escape from Mom.”
“Only using me for a place to crash, huh?” I playfully nudge her arm. “Speaking of Mom, did you text her?”
“I did, but this is what I mean. I can’t do anything without checking in all the time. She’s literally driving me crazy.”
“She’s just concerned. And if you’re going to stay out all night, the least you can do is let her know.”
“I know. Now with you leaving, her nagging is only going to get worse.” Cara leans her head on my shoulder. “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I’m not looking forward to leaving either.”
My phone buzzes with Mia’s name displayed on the screen. I lift off the couch and step into the kitchen.
“Hey,” I answer, “I guess you’ve heard?”
“Yeah, I can’t say I’m surprised. But have you talked to Cara?”
“She’s here.”
“Drake’s here, too. I can only imagine how she’s feeling.”
“Not so good on this end,” I murmur. The last thing I want is Cara finding out she’s being discussed. That will really set her off.
“My brother is a moron.”
I run my hand through my hair, trying like hell not to agree.
“It could’ve been handled differently,” I say diplomatically.
“Sorry, I don’t know what to say.” When I don’t answer, she continues. “I’ll let you go.”
“I’ll call you later. Maybe come over?”
I lean against the wall and hold my breath as I wait for her answer. Maybe I shouldn’t invite myself over, but we need to talk. And I need to see her.
“That sounds good.”
We hang up, and I push myself off the wall. As I walk into the living room, Cara gives me a knowing look.
“Let me guess: Mia?”
I nod and try to wipe the stupid smile from my mouth.
“What are you two going to do when you leave?”
“I have no idea.” And that’s the truest statement yet.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
AJ
Current Day
As I ring for Mia’s apartment, the buzzing mimics the annoying vuvuzela sound and grates my last nerves. I hate the sound of that furkin plastic horn. My edginess isn’t from the fact that I’m here. It isn’t really about the octane level of the ringer. It all stems from not knowing what to do or say when I see her.
How do I tell the one girl who finally made me pause that I’m leaving? I mean, she already knows. Between the media and her brother shouting praises to the rooftops that I’m gone, how could she not? But push all that aside, and what’s left is telling her goodbye. That is the part gnawing at me. The part I don’t want to do.
The door clicks open, and I take my time walking the stairs to her apartment. My stomach hasn’t churned this much since entering the Phillies locker room for the first time. We’re all big bad athletes, but being around major league ballplayers the first day intimidated the hell out of me.
I take a deep breath and slowly let it out before knocking. I don’t want to stop seeing her. Maybe a long-distance relationship would work? People do it all the time, don’t they? Fuck, I have no idea. Even though it feels like we’ve been together for years, it’s only been a couple of weeks. I don’t think a relationship that hasn’t been defined could withstand the distance. A clean break. It’s my only choice.
Her door swings open, and my thoughts sway back to wanting to try. But I can’t blame myself. Her vivid blue eyes stare back at me with a hint of sadness and longing, and the desire to erase the distance between us and show her exactly what she’d be missing overrides my thoughts. I refrain. Instead, I remain standing and give a lame hello.
She steps aside and invites me in. After I shed my coat, I kick off my boots and follow her to the living room. There’s an awkwardness between us again, and I hate it. We were past this phase and, thanks to my chosen career, we’re right back at the beginning. Our life reduced to a replay button.
“Would you like a beer?” she asks.
“Sure.” I sink into her couch and tap my thumb against my knee as I wait. This isn’t going to be easy.
She brings back a Guinness Blonde American Lager. A soft smile crosses my lips when she hands it over. I can’t believe she went out of her way to get my beer. A strange sensation squeezes my chest. Her gesture must account for something. I tip the bottle to her. “Thanks, but I still can’t believe you troubled yourself for this.”
“Yeah.” Her left shoulder lifts to a shrug as a warm blush sweeps across her face. She drops her gaze to the floor; her knuckles, gripping the wine glass, turn a shade paler. She’s too adorable.
“Come here.” I pat the seat cushion next to me. As she sits beside me, I swallow back a drink while staring at her over the bottle. Her sweetness isn’t making this any easier.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders as she nuzzles next to me. The quietness lingers. Perhaps, each lost in our own thought or the same thought—where do we go from here? I still struggle with what needs to be said versus what I want to say. A little over a month ago, my life was simple. With her soft body pressed against mine, I don’t think I ever want simple again. I just want her.
“Any idea when you’re leaving?” The uncertainty in Mia’s tone surges through me, and I swear I can feel her reluctance as she speaks.
“Not until after Christmas. I go tomorrow for a physical, but I don’t anticipate any problems.”
She gnaws on her bottom lip for a moment. “I always loved that area. Are you excited about going there?”
“What do you think?”
Her features soften, but when her eyes gloss over, I feel gutted. I take her glass of wine and set our drinks on the end table.
Intertwining our fingers together, I look directly at her. “If you had asked me five weeks ago, I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat, but now? Now that you came back into my life, I’m not thrilled at all.”
“The timing sucks.”
“It always has,” I mumble and swallow down the pain lodged in my throat. I have to ask, but I fear I already know the answer. “We could try to keep seeing each other.”
The squeeze from her hand tightens my chest. But not in a good way. Her reassurance isn’t to encourage me; it’s to soften the blow. My jaw tightens when her eyebrows furrow, but there’s conflict to her stare. At least the decision to end things isn’t easy for her either. That means something.
“You don’t know how badly I want to, but you know as much as I do it could never work.”
“We don’t know for sure. Nothing is guaranteed, but it may work out.” Desperation strains my voice, but I don’t care; I hate giving up without a fight.
“AJ, we’re not even a couple. Not really. Or, whatever we call what we’r
e doing is too new. There isn’t any way it could withstand the distance. Besides, there’s always going to be some level of resentment, whether it’s with Drake or the fact we don’t get to see each other. We can’t possibly start anything now.”
Pulling her into a hug, I murmur against her ear, “I don’t want to lose you.”
“I don’t either, but—”
I place my mouth over hers to silence the words I don’t want to hear. If this is goodbye, I want one last kiss. One last taste.
Her body melts into mine as our lips find each other in a mixture of need and want. It’s the last act of desperation, at least on my end. One final plea.
Her hands slide over my pecs, and I run mine over the curve of her ass. God, I love her ass. It’s addictive. I grab hold and press her closer to me. A moan vibrates through my body as all my blood rushes south. I want her more than the air I breathe, but taking her now is a bad, bad idea.
The thoughts in my head swarm as my tongue plunges farther, exploring her sweet mouth. Intoxicated. That’s how I feel, but it’s not from the alcohol I currently taste. No, this feeling of drunkenness derives from the desire radiating between us.
“AJ.” My name comes out in a cry as her hands slip farther down my torso and land on the edge of my pants. I take full advantage and move my mouth to the crook of her neck.
“I need you.” Her heady voice claims me and takes away all my sense. That’s the only excuse I can fathom when she loosens the top button and then slowly lowers the zipper.
The smart thing to do is to leave. Walk away. But whoever said I was smart? Maybe, just maybe, if I play this right, she’ll change her mind about ending things.
This sliver of hope is why I don’t protest when she stops what she’s doing and leads me to her bedroom. Why, when I left eight years ago, I did so without saying a word. This girl brings me to my knees. Makes me weak. Desperate. Had I talked to her back then, I would’ve caved.
Just like now.
Bottom Of The Ninth: Bad Boys Redemption: Book Three Page 16