Finally Us (10 page)

I stare at her then ask, “You want him?”

She lowers her head, shaking it and laughs again.

Again, what’s so fucking funny?

“I’m failing to see the humor here,” I say.

She looks up at me
and crosses her arms over her chest, still shaking her head as if I’m so dumb she just can’t believe it.

“You want him?” I ask again.

She takes a deep breath and blows it out, dropping her arms and putting her hands back on her hips. “I don’t know what I want.”

My turn to blow out a breath. “Well, when you fucking decide, let me know.”
I turn and open the door and leave, not glancing at Courtney on my way out. Thank God everyone who works here had to sign a nondisclosure agreement or she could make some damned good money selling this story to the tabloids.

I fire up the Camaro a
nd take off for home so tired of everything. My arm’s fucked up so I can’t go throw and let off some steam, I don’t know if I’ll be ready for preseason, and my relationship with El is up in the air.

Just g
otta love the fuck out of life sometimes.

Chapter 13

El

Why are men so dumb? They can’t
see what’s right in front of their eyes and everything has to be spelled out for them.

After Jag left ProSport, I went back to my room to apologize to Austin.

“It’s okay, babe. I get it. You’re a beautiful woman. I can see him wanting to keep holding on.”

I retract my previous statement.
Why is
Jag
so dumb?

Austin apparently gets it.
Not that I think I’m beautiful, but Austin understands what’s going on. Jag, on the other hand, is clueless.

Austin seems fine with everything and ta
kes off shortly after, kissing my forehead and telling me he’ll call later when I walk him out. When he’s gone, I turn and apologize to Courtney who tries to lighten the situation by chuckling and saying it’s fine, that she hasn’t had that much excitement in forever.

“Welcome to my life,” I mumble and head back to my room to clean up.

Should I explai
n things to Jag, tell him
I want him back but point out that he’s so thick headed he can’t see it? Or should I call it a day, stay with Austin and see where things go with us?

I’m
so tired. Tired of thinking. Tired of wondering. Tired of everything.

At ten o’clock that night
, someone knocks on my door and I’m afraid to answer, not ready for a visitor of the virile variety. But when I look out the peephole, I see Rebecca, and frowning I open the door.

“You need some ‘friend-tervention,’” she says
as she walks in with Melinda Grant and Jackie Harris, two friends of ours from high school.

“Oh, my God!” I scream and hug both of them. “It’s been forever!”

I then turn and raise my eyebrows as I look at Bec who’s holding a grocery bag.

“What? When you called today, I thought, what better way to spend my two days off than getting drunk off my ass with my best friend?
Then I saw Melinda today at Abt, so I called her to see if she was free then we asked Jackie to come with too. So we got a cab, there are four of us now and it’s officially a party!”

She walks to the kitchen and after setting down her things, gets out the blender. We follow her in as she starts taking items out of the bag.

“Margaritas, mamacitas!” she says as she pulls out a large bottle of Patron Silver. Oh, boy. We all stand watching as she gets four shot glasses out of the cabinet, fills them, grabs the salt, cuts up a lime then tells us all to “Come and get it.” How she has any energy to do this, I don’t know because her work schedule is nuts, but we don’t hesitate and do exactly as she says. After rubbing a lime on our hands and putting salt on them, she raises her glass and says, “To all the motherfuckers who fuck with our lives, fuck with our heads and fuck with our bodies.” Jackie starts giggling uncontrollably which makes the rest of us laugh. Then looking at me with a raised eyebrow nodding once, Bec says, “Cheers!” We clink our glasses, lick the salt off our hands, down the shots then suck on the limes.

“Yuck,” M
elinda says making a face. I can’t help but make a face too.

“Get some music going
up in here, El!” Bec tells me as she begins making our drinks, the blender going full force now.

I
snort then I walk into the living room to get my iPod going. Jag and Ross hooked up a sound system in the apartment years ago when Bec and I both lived here, and it’s a pretty nice setup.

As I
scroll through my playlist, I’m not sure I can handle acting as if everything’s peachy for everyone over the next couple of hours, but then it hits me and I start to get pissed off at myself when I  realize I’ve been letting men decide how I feel for far too long. And that shit’s going to end right now, I decide. I’m a strong, independent woman, by God. Annnnd it’s taken me this long to figure out what Mom was saying. And here I thought Jag was the dumb one. Jeez. I find the perfect song and when it comes on, I dance my way back into the kitchen singing along with Kelly Clarkson’s “Walk Away.” Bec grins at me then we all start singing and dancing, laughing at each other.

Four margaritas and two more shots later
, we’re all sitting in my living room wasted and talking about, you guessed it, men.

“
Well, Matt’s had three years to pop the question,” Melinda slurs. “Three fuckin’ years!”

“That’s a long time,” Jackie concedes. “Maybe
you
should proprose… proprose…” she starts giggling which makes us all join her as she tries again. “
Proprose
… Aw, fuck it! Maybe you should ask him!”

I fall over on the floor laughing, hugging a pillow to me because that’s some funny shit.

“I think Ross is gonna ask me soon,” Bec blurts and I sit up quickly and frown at her.

“Whaaa
t?” I ask.

“Yeah. He got Gatorade today,” she tells me.

I scrunch up my face. “Oookay. I got a Mountain Dew today but you don’t see me askin’ anyone to marry me.”

Now she falls to the floor laughing. I look at
her, tilting my head to the side and slowly process what she’s just said. “You really think he’s gonna ask you?” I ask with a hitch in my voice. They belong together, but this is still a hit to my heart. Why can’t Jag and I get our shit together like they have?

When she stops laughing, she looks up at me with a smile. “Yeah, I think he is.”

My eyes water and I crazily start doing that Miss America hand fan thing at them which makes everyone start laughing at me. “Stop! You’re gonna make me cry!” I whine. “I’m so happy for you guys!” I say and fall drunkenly on top of Bec hugging her.

She hugs me back and whispers, “You
r and Jag’s time is coming. Don’t lose hope, babe.”

And now I start bawling. And she starts crying with me. Then
Melinda starts crying and so does Jackie.

“Wh-what are we crying about?” Jackie asks after a few minutes.

“Hell if I know,” Melinda answers and now we’re back to giggling.

Oh, Patron, you are a friend of mine.

I wake up at noon the next day and immediately
hate Patron. I close my eyes and lie there listening to see if anyone’s stirring, not remembering if they left last night or not. The last thing I recall is standing on the coffee table using a hairbrush as a microphone and singing along to “I Will Survive.” Four times. Screaming at the top of my lungs. It’s a wonder the neighbors didn’t call the cops, but I’m pretty sure they’re away for the holiday, thank God.

I need water, so I make myself sit up then lean back against the wall for a minute to keep from hurling. Ugh. Why do we always have to pay a price for the fun things in life?
It’s not fair. When I think I’ve got my bearings, I turn and hang my legs off the bed for a few seconds then slowly stand and make my way to the bathroom. When I finish, I go into the living room to see everyone’s gone. In the kitchen, I get a glass and quickly down two glasses of water then take two aspirin with some of the third. Better.

I look around and my eyes tear up again because Bec’s cleaned everything before leaving. She’s such a great best friend. I find my phone to call her and see I’ve got text messages from Jag and Austin. Yippee.

Call me when you get this,
Jag’s says.

Good morning, beautiful. Call me soon <3
, Austin’s says.

Hm. If this were a contest, which one would I say is trying harder?
I roll my eyes and decide to call neither. I’m going to enjoy my Saturday as the newly independent woman that I’ve made my mind up to be.

Chapter 14

Jag

I can’t believe I haven’t talked to El in
two months. She finally called after Thanksgiving and asked me to give her some time, so I am and I hate it. I’d asked her if it was just a ploy to get me out of the picture so she could date Austin, but she assured me she was going to tell him the same. I hadn’t seen any reports or heard that they were together, so I was trusting that she was being honest with me.

I changed physical therapists because I wanted to respect El’s wishes, and
at the end of January, two weeks before spring training was to start, my new therapist, Will, told me I was good to go. I was so fucking stoked I almost did a goddamned backflip when he gave me the news. I’d been working with the trainer and had built up to an eighty-mile an hour fastball, so I knew I was getting there, but hearing that I was released made something settle inside me. I now feel like myself again.

The day before Valentine’s Day, I fly out to Mesa, Arizona, and begin training with the other pitchers and ca
tchers. Coach has told me to take it easy, and I will, but I’m also so damned ready to get back into the swing of things and my arm feels great, I’m going to push myself nonetheless.

Eddington is here also, but I’m not letting it bother me. I’m one-hundred percent focused on pitching and I’m not going to let him distract me.

The first day wears me out. I think I threw a hundred balls and by ball sixty, my power was waning. I hated it, but I scaled back and started throwing curves and change ups, which are easier pitches. It’s now Friday, day two, and I pretty much had a repeat of day one, so by the time I hit my hotel room, I’m wiped. I’ve showered and eaten the steak dinner I ordered from a place in town, and now sit on my bed shirtless and wearing my sleep pants, leaning back on some pillows against the headboard with my eyes closed and I guess I fell asleep. When my phone rings, I’m so tired I don’t even look to see who it is.

“Yeah?” I
answer groggily.

“Jag?”
Ellen says.

My heart leaps in my chest when I hear her voice
and I sit up suddenly.

“Yeah, I’m here,” I say.
“Is everything okay?”

There’s a stretch of silence before she whispers, “I miss you.”

Damn. I’m still half asleep, but I think I heard her right. She misses me? God, I so needed to hear that right now. I let what she said wash over me, and it’s like her voice is a balm, healing all the bad, making everything better, making it all worth it. I lie back and relax into the pillows, closing my eyes again. “I miss you too, babe.”

“Thank you for the flowers.
They’re beautiful.”

I called Ross this morning and asked him to order irises, her
favorites, and send them to her.

“You’r
e welcome. Happy Valentine’s. Wish I were there to take you to dinner.” I pause for a couple seconds not knowing if I should, but then I go ahead and say it. “Everest.” I’m hoping she’ll remember when we went there four years ago when I was first drafted.

I
’m also hoping she didn’t get anything from the assclown, but I keep my mouth shut. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough if he spouts off tomorrow. Right now, just the fact that she’s called me is progress and I don’t want to screw things up.

“
Happy Valentine’s. Oh. Everest. That was… that was a good night…”

Hell, yeah, it was a good night. A
fucking great night.

“I remember how beautiful you were in that black dress and those shoes. Stockings with a seam down the back.” Thinki
ng about her dressed that way is making me hard. Fuck.

“And you were very handsome in your black slacks and shirt, your charcoal gray sports coat. And you had stubble… that was… that was hot…”

When she’d commented on my stubble at the time, I’d promised she’d feel it on the inside of her thighs when we got home and she had. Jesus. I don’t know where she’s taking this, so I’m reluctant to move ahead. I don’t want to make her mad by saying something stupid.

“Do you remember what we did when we got back to my apartment?” she whispers.

And she’s taking it there. I’m going for it now.

“I do… ate your sweet pussy against the front door…” I reply quietly.

I hear her suck in a breath and pray she doesn’t hang up.

“
Yes… I think I came three times just standing there… remember what happened next?” she asks in a throaty voice.

“Bent you over the couch and fucked you from behind…” I hear her moan and I’m all in
now, damn it. She took it there; I’m finishing it. “You naked, El?”

“Yes…”

“You touching yourself?”

“Yes…”

Christ. I haven’t touched her in two months and now we’re almost two-thousand miles from each other and this is sweet, fucking torture. I don’t know what this is she’s doing, and I can’t stop wondering what brought it on and if she’s just using me because she’s horny. Oh, hell, what the fuck am I saying? I don’t give a shit if she’s using me or not. I want her and this is hot.

“What’d we do next?
Remember?” I prompt. I can’t stand it anymore and jerk down my sleep pants, grabbing my cock and start stroking it as visions of that night run through my mind.

“You carried me to my room and sat on the bed… me in your lap facing you… then you entered me… your cock went so deep… I was… I was so full of you…”

“Made you touch yourself, El… watched as you made yourself come… while I was in you…” I say.

“Yes… Oh, God… Jag…”

“I was there now, I’d be going deep… fucking you hard… making you come over and over…”

“God…”
I know she’s almost there by the sounds she’s making.

“Can you feel me inside… my breath on your neck… hands under your hips, holding you up so I can go deeper…”

“Yes, oh… oh… God… Jag!”

Shit, but I love how she sounds when she comes. I continue stroking myself until I
come on my stomach. Afterward, I lie there listening to her breathing as hard as I am and I have no clue what to say, afraid to utter a sound.

“Wish you were here,”
she says softly.

I close my eyes and
have to admit that gets to me. I’ve waited so long to hear her say something like that.

“Me too,”
I whisper.

“Goodnight, Jag,” she says softly.

“’Night, baby,” I answer and we hang up.

I
leave my bed and go clean myself up then lie back down, staring at the ceiling and thinking about our last two years. They’ve been hell and I think I’ve finally figured it out. That’s why I’d texted her after Thanksgiving because it was then I realized my mistakes and I wanted to let her know I was sorry. How fucking stupid am I that it’s taken me this long to understand what I did to her? I guess it took me seeing her with someone else to finally get a fucking clue.

The day I
walked in on her and Eddington was a turning point and it’d opened up my eyes to what she’d been telling me the past two years. I thought I got it before, but now I really do.

I
know now that I didn’t protect her at all my rookie season, hell, I didn’t the subsequent years either. I should’ve paid those underwear company fuckers off instead of doing those idiotic commercials with Alessandra. But I’d just been starting out and didn’t know the ropes, so I’d done what I was told all to the ruination of my relationship with the woman I loved.

And speaking of that flaming bitch. I should’ve been done with Alessandra from day one. I guess I could blame Mom for raising me to be polite, but now I want to kick myself for being so naïve. I’d just
never met anyone so duplicitous, and like an idiot, I’d stood back in ignorance and watched as she single-handedly destroyed what El and I had.

And then there
was Dirk. How the fuck I couldn’t see through all his shit is beyond me. The night of the banquet for the commercials when he’d called to say El couldn’t go, I should’ve fired him right then. But I’d been a dumbass kid who didn’t know shit from Shinola, and I’d let him take that from her. She’d been so excited about the party, had looked so beautiful in her dress with her hair up, and I’d let him hurt her. Then he’d coached me on how to behave in front of the cameras, told me to play along with the whole Alessandra and I being a couple thing, and I’d done it, not even thinking how much more it’d hurt El.

No wonder she dumped my sorry ass.

Jesus. With a man like that by her side, not doing shit to keep her safe and practically condoning it all by keeping my goddamned mouth shut, she had every right not to talk to me again. Ever.

I rub my hands over my face and know I’ve got a lot of making up to do. And it’s not with flowers or jewelry or material shit. It’s m
e getting a brand new fucking attitude and stepping up and being a man for a change. Being the man she always wanted me to be. The man I always should’ve been. The man who puts her first.

A week later, things have been surprisingly
calm. Eddington hasn’t smarted off to me or rubbed it in my face that he’s been seeing El. Which is a good damned thing because I don’t need the bullshit or the distraction. The way my pitching’s been going, I’m working my way up to being a starter. I don’t want to be a relief, and my main goal is to be the “Ace,” or the best pitcher. Eddington’s a left-handed relief whose specialty is to come in when there are left-handed batters, but I don’t care about him. I just want to get back to where I was with the Dodgers.

I’m in the trainers’
room after practice with a shoulder wrap of ice on. I’ve been doing this every day since I got here, so it’s nothing new, and after twenty minutes, I’m usually good to go. As I sit on the table, I hear a couple of the guys talking over in the hot tubs which are behind some lockers.

“She was fucking hot, man. Sucked me off twice in a goddamned hour,” I hear one of them say and I know it’s got to be Eddington. I feel the heat hit my face when I realize it’s him, and I get up from the table to go slam my left fist in his fucking face since he’s talking about El.

“I’m telling you, these little community college girls have it going on,” I hear Newton, or Newt, say. He’s a shortstop who’s always talking about his conquests, or at least that’s all I’ve heard from him so far.

I stop behind the lockers and listen for a few minutes as Eddington continues.

“She’s stacked too. Did you see her tits? Fucking double D’s and real. I could’ve motorboated ‘em all night long if she’d have let me,” he says laughing. “What’d you think of her friend?”

“She was okay.
Didn’t know how to get her suck on, but whatever. Bitch loved anal, though. Couldn’t get enough. But would’ve preferred yours. She was way hotter, but beggars and all, huh?” Newt answers.

“
We’ll swap. You can have mine tonight. They’re meeting us at the Goat Head at eight. I’ll teach your little cunt how to get it done after I slam her ass.” Eddington cracks up at that.

I step around the lockers then, eyebrows raised looking at him.

“What’s up, Jensen?” he asks as if he wasn’t just talking about banging some probably only eighteen-year-old college chick in the ass. He’s pretty cool. Gotta give him that.

“Not much,” I
reply wondering if El’s ever seen this side of him. I’d be willing to guess that’d be a negative.

“We’re heading out to get some strange tonight. Wanna trail along?” he asks with a smirk.

I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s okay. STD’s don’t get it done for me. I kinda like my junk attached.”

They both laugh at that.

“Don’t know what you’re missing,” Newt states. “These college girls and their tight little bodies. Damn!” He throws his head back and howls.

“I’m in room 21
              3 if you change your mind,” Eddington says then adds, “Got some ‘bump’ too if you’re interested.”

I snort. “Nah. I’m good.”

“All right. You know where I am,” he responds then he and Newt are at it again, talking about the local “Fresh Meat.”

I leave them to their cheap chatter, shaking my head as I walk away. So Eddington’s a coke snorting almost pedophile. Good to know.