Going, Going, Goner (Double Play Series Book 2)

by Nicole Rodrigues

  “I don't do this. I never do this, ever. I don't ever do this,” I say.

  The alcohol is giving me an edge that I didn't even know I had. I'm being reckless, but I don't care.

  “Me either. You look so hot in this dress,” he says, his gaze roaming me.

  “You look so hot in this tux,” I say sassily.

  I grab his tie and pull his lips down on mine for a kiss. A kiss that I have been waiting way too long for. The moment our lips touch my stomach jumps.

  His hands go under the back of my thighs and he lifts me up effortlessly, turning us so I'm sitting on the bathroom counter. We knock over something in the process but we're both too enthralled with each other to stop.

  He unzips his fly in lightning speed and pulls up my dress, moving my thong to the side, as he slowly starts to push inside me. Our lips and tongues still wrestle for control as our hands frantically grab at each other, for anything to satiate this need.

  “Wrap your legs around me...oh God you feel so good,” he moans into my shoulder.

  He nips it slightly and I gasp. Damn I'm so turned on, I swear I'm going to explode right now.

  “I’ve wanted this for so long. Don't stop, I'm so close...oh God, my God!”

  His thrusts are quick, and his length keeps sliding right over my clit. I've never come this fast in my life, but a load moan escapes my throat as I teeter on the brink of my release.

  “Shh...someone is gonna hear us,” he growls in my ear.

  “It's been...oh my...it's been too long. Fuck it's never felt...yessssss!”

  His hands squeeze my ass as he pulls my body onto his, chasing his release. He dips the front of my dress down and snatches a nipple into his mouth, sucking and pulling at it. The condom I had in my dress falls to the floor and we both look down at it.

  “Shit,” he says under his breath. “I swear Savvy, I'm okay. I didn't even think-”

  I shut him up with a kiss.

  “We’re good, don't stop,” I moan.

  He rocks into me again nodding his head. My body tingles as his mouth goes back over my nipple, the warmth of his tongue causing it to painfully harden. I dig my nails into his shoulders, gritting my teeth and he brushes his thumb against my clit. It's my undoing and a warm sensation tingles down my legs.

  We both moan our ecstasy into each other’s shoulders and then Jackson pulls away, zipping his pants and fixing his tie.

  “That was amazin’,” he says smiling at me.

  “So good. Wait, you have a little lipstick on your collar,” I laugh.

  I try and dab at it, but he grabs my wrist. Our eyes lock and I see warmth. I've wanted this man for so many years, but he was always out of my reach. Maybe this time...

  “I...Savannah this can't. I mean this was just a one time thing, right?”

  My heart shatters on the floor and I pull back as if he slapped me. He might as well have. My cheeks flush and I stutter.

  “Ye...yeah of course.”

  “Scratchin’ that itch after all these years, right?” Jackson says, smirking.

  What a bastard. Are there any decent men left on this earth? First my ex-husband and now him? My Jackson.

  “Right, yeah,” I say laughing, trying to brush off my emotions.

  “Did I live up to the hype?”

  “Of course you did,” I say softly.

  I've always pictured what it would have been like to be with Jackson. When I was young and inexperienced, I wondered what his hands would feel like, caressing my body. What his kiss would taste like after a long baseball practice. What his muscles would feel like pulsing underneath me. It was everything I dreamed it would be, all consuming. Then I got a nice dose of reality and woke up.

  I walk past him to the door and turn around quickly, steeling myself.

  “It was nice to see you again Jackson. Charlotte can handle your events. Take care, okay?” I say giving him a small smile.

  He nods, seeming a little shocked and I walk away. He doesn't get to have this on his terms. He may have thrown me for a loop, but what he doesn't realize is that I've been dragged through the mud for the past five years. Actually, scratch that, for a long ass time and our little romp is not gonna put a dent in my armor. I'm done getting hurt and I'm done getting played the fool. Buck up, Gavinwood.

  Chapter 1

  Jackson

  Two months later…

  I swing my bat and hear the crack, as the ball flies to the stands. I smile and take my stance again as the next pitch comes in and I launch that one into the stands too, opposite field.

  “Do you ever slow down?” asks a voice from behind me.

  I turn and see Greg Hanson, the manager for the Louisiana Cajuns, where I currently hold the DH spot. I was the center fielder for the Atlanta Storm but got traded a couple months back. The Cajuns needed a big bat at DH and my outfield days were slowly dwindling.

  “Nope,” I say, swinging for the fences again.

  “Phone call for you in the office,” he says, pointing to the stadium.

  I drop my bat and turn, jogging for the building.

  My first thought is Lacey. It's always Lacey. At 21 years old, when my biggest worry was where to party after a kick ass victory, a bomb got dropped on my lap, in the form of a baby girl.

  My one night stand recognized me, as the next big thing to hit the majors and came knocking on my door, claiming I got her pregnant. I always make sure I'm careful when I take a girl home, but I guess nothing is 100%.

  A couple of months later, my little girl stole my heart. Apparently, she didn't have the same effect on her mother because she dropped her at my apartment for my weekend with her and never came back. I stopped trying to call her after a year and I hired a nanny that has been helping me with her ever since.

  I grew up without a father and my mother did the best she could. It wasn’t enough though, and I ended up on the front steps of the local orphanage and in the foster care system by the age of eight. It was tough, but I know of kids that have had it harder. If everyone threw their problems in a pile, you would scramble so fast to take your own back. If those problems got me where I am today, I would take them back in a heartbeat, every single time.

  The life of a major league baseball player and single dad don't mix. I'm always so torn between my career and being a father. Lacey needs stability, but I don't know who I am without this game, it saved me.

  Luckily, I still have it in me, holding the record for the most homeruns the past three seasons. Mr. Jackson “Goner” Turner, the “Going, Going, Goner”, always “going home” and whatever other nickname the fans throw out there. On the field that is, in real life, I don't have a home. It hasn't really ever bothered me, but lately, it's a feeling I can't shake.

  I jog a little faster to the office and grab for the phone when I get through the doors. I press extension one, familiar with this, since it's happened at least once a week since we moved here.

  “Jackson Turner,” I say through the phone.

  “Mr. Turner this is Mrs. Bloomsburg. We have Lacey here, and need you to come down to school.”

  “What did she do this time?” I ask the principal, letting out a breath.

  “She is gettin’ expelled, Mr. Turner. She broke a girl's nose today, so I suggest you get down here as soon as possible,” she says, in a clipped tone.

  Shit.

  “I'll be there in ten minutes,” I say, hanging up.

  I run my hand down the front of my face and glance at the clock. I was supposed to meet Charlotte at Double Play today for our meeting about my camp for the orphanage next week. I guess I'm bringing Rocky with me.

  I shake my head and walk out of the office, sending a text to coach that I'm done with batting practice and heading to get Lacey.

  It's been like this the last month, since she started high school here in Louisiana, always with the fights, and always with the anger. I'm at a loss of what to do and I guess her school is too. She's never been expelled before and I really do
n't know how to stop this vicious cycle.

  I drive the ten minutes to her school and pull into my usual spot. They honestly should put my name on it with the amount of times I'm here. I walk towards the front and nod to the security guard.

  “You should sign that girl up for kickboxing. She got a mean right hook,” he says, opening the door for me.

  “I guess I don't have to worry about any boys taking advantage of her, huh?”

  “You don't have that problem my man, believe me,” he smirks.

  I shake my head and make my way to the front office. I walk back to Principal Bloomsburg’s office and knock. I hear her voice, telling me to come in, and I open the door, taking a quick glance at my daughter. She doesn't make eye contact with me- and focuses on a spot on the floor instead.

  “Mr. Turner, Lacey and I were just discussing the situation. Please, take a seat.”

  She motions for me to sit in the seat next to Lacey.

  “What happened Lace?” I ask, my voice soft.

  I've never been one to lose my cool, especially with her. Despite her behavior, I know she isn't a bad kid. I don't know what it's like as a girl to have a mother that didn't want you but instead wanted drugs. I myself as an adult, still don't even know how to deal with it, so who am I to judge how she does?

  I also know it's half my fault for moving her around so much, especially this time. A new high school at her age can't be easy. I know fighting isn't the answer, but I wish the school would focus more on how to help her, rather than just how to punish her.

  “I'm sick of these girls at this school,” she mumbles.

  “That is not excuse to punch one in the face,” says Mrs. Bloomsburg.

  “It was a reflex!” she complains.

  “A reflex? Her nose is broken Lacey,” Ms. Bloomsburg says.

  I look over at her and my temper is starting to boil.

  “You have to explain, Lace.”

  She looks up at me and I see the emotion swirling in her eyes. They're glistening but her control is too strong, and the tears never fall.

  “They're talkin’ about her and they looked like they were gonna hit me.”

  I close my eyes and curse those little bitches. Being a major league baseball player has its perks, but for a sixteen-year-old daughter of said major leaguer, it can sometimes be unkind.

  A month ago, Kat went to the tabloids and sold a story about us for some cash. My lawyers immediately squashed her lies and word got out that she sold the story for drug money. No one's seen or heard from her since. I have full legal custody of Lacey, but I still want to keep tabs on Kat, in case Lacey ever wants to see her.

  I could handle the stupid tabloids, but it was hard for Lacey. Dealing with the lies, the negative attention, and the fact that her mother made some sort of contact with me but had nothing to do with Lacey was hard. Mix that along with a move to another state in the middle of your high school career, again, and cue her fighting phase.

  “What'd they say?”

  “That she probably used when she was pregnant. Tried to get rid of me but it didn't work. That she's probably dead now, killed herself to get away from me with the money she got from sellin’ us out. Then they jumped toward me, I thought they were gonna hit me and my hand just went out. I didn't mean to break her nose,” she mumbles looking down at the ground.

  I look over to Mrs. Bloomsburg and shake my head.

  “I know violence ain't the answer ma'am, but is there some repercussions for the girls who said those things?”

  Mrs. Bloomsburg lets out a breath.

  “Unfortunately, it's their word against Lacey's and Lacey didn't act in self-defense. Violence is never the answer. She should have told someone, rather than act on it.”

  “I understand that, but it sounds like she did act in self-defense. Is there no middle ground? I mean these girls can say and do whatever they want to my daughter, without any sort of consequence?”

  My anger is simmering and it's close to boiling over when I look over at Lacey, slumped in her chair.

  “We'll keep a closer eye on the situation Mr. Turner, but unfortunately, she has to be expelled. We're lucky the girls parents aren't pressing charges.”

  My nostrils flare with rage. I get up from my seat and reach over to Lacey.

  “Can you wait in the hall for a sec, pumpkin?” I say, grabbing her shoulder.

  She nods and stomps off, as I shut the office door softly.

  “I'm tryin’ really hard to see things your way Mrs. Bloomsburg, but when my daughter has that look on her face, I really have a hard time.”

  “Mr. Turner, this is not the first time this has happened and frankly, we are at the end of our rope with your daughter. She’s only been here a month and she’s gotten into four fights already. Maybe you should consider a transfer for her. That might be best.”

  “She has no mother Ms. Bloomsburg. She very well could be dead, and Lacey is tryin’ to deal with this the best way she can. There's no sympathy period here?”

  “It was my understanding that she hasn't had contact with her mother since she was a baby Mr. Turner. It's also my understanding that she has not had a stable home for quite some time. I'm not really sure what you want from us.”

  “What are you tryin’ to insinuate?” I boom.

  “Mr. Turner, please lower your voice. Don't make me call security.”

  I close my eyes and count to five. When I open them again, I nod and leave the office. I want to smash something. How could this school and their personnel, treat my daughter like this? I compose myself and walk towards Lacey.

  “What did she say?” she asks softly.

  “Forget her. I have to go to a meetin’, it should be quick. Wanna come?”

  “Sure.”

  We walk to my car and I open the passenger door for her. She hops up in my truck and I shut the door, walking slowly around to the driver’s side, getting my breathing under control. I've never been this angry in my life.

  We drive the short ride to Double Play Sports in silence. I cut the engine and look over to Lacey.

  “You okay?” I ask, my voice sounding hard.

  “I'm fine.”

  She opens the door and gets out and I exhale. This is getting so hard. I'm at a loss of how to communicate with her and she just keeps shutting me out. The older she gets, the more I annoy her. It was so easy when she was young. I was the light of her life and now I just seem like a punching bag some days, or worse, a ghost.

  We walk up to the office in silence and it's quiet. The receptionist isn't behind her desk, so we walk down the hallway towards Charlotte's door and peek inside. Empty. I look over to Savannah's door and it's closed. Usually, when I meet with Charlotte, she's not in. She's successfully avoided me since the wedding.

  I’ve texted and called her a bunch of times since then but I get one word answers and silence in return. I realized the next morning, when the alcohol fog disappeared how big of a dick I was to her. She didn’t deserve that, we had a great friendship when we younger and she deserved more than a quick bathroom fuck. I let my fears get in the way of taking what I’ve wanted for a long, long time. Savannah fucking Gavinwood.

  I walk over to her door and knock. What can it hurt? I wait a couple of seconds and don't hear anything. I turn the knob and it opens. I peek inside and see a figure, slumped on top of her desk. I knock a little louder and the figure doesn't move.

  “Savvy?” I ask, walking into the room.

  No movement.

  I walk towards her desk and poke her shoulder. She jumps with a fright and the movement knocks her body off her chair.

  “Shit,” she says, picking her glasses off the floor, that got knocked off in the impact.

  “Damn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “I'm fine,” she says, getting to her feet.

  She straightens her skirt and rights her shirt and puts her glasses back on her face.

  My hand inst
inctively moves towards her face and I put a stray curly strand behind her ear. Her breath hitches and she takes a step back. We hear a throat clear behind us and she jumps back further, knocking into her chair.

  “I'm in the room. Don't start makin’ out please,” says my sassy daughter.