Inside Heat (13 page)

* * * *

It wasn’t the first save he’d blown, and it wouldn’t be his last. Jeff’s patience wore thin as he fielded one stupid question after another. He needed to catch up to Jason. The look on his brother’s face when McCree sent that pitch into orbit had said it all. Jason blamed himself for the blown save. The media didn’t see it that way. As far as they were concerned, it was one hundred percent Jeff’s fault. Maybe it was. The game evolved on a daily basis. If you didn’t stay on your game, you’d become a has-been before they put your name on a locker. Before he had to face McCree again, he had to come up with something the asshole hadn’t seen. Maybe not a new pitch, but a new sequence or maybe adjust the speed on his breaking ball – something. Inside heat wasn’t enough anymore, not if he was going to keep McCree from sending his pitches into orbit. Even if the league came to their senses and benched McCree, there would always be another one, another player willing to risk their health and career for the chance at the record book. Hell, he wanted his name next to a Major League record too. And the only way he was going to get it was to keep working on his pitches.

He was still mulling over the possibilities when he pulled his car into garage. Megan handed him a cold beer as he entered the kitchen through the connecting hallway, then she went back to tossing a salad. Watching her do these little domestic things in his kitchen – no, their kitchen – put things in perspective. Maybe his job wasn’t the nine to five variety, but there was no reason he had to bring his work home with him. He’d rather spend time with Megan and Jason, than think about McCree. Besides, they’d be on the road for over a week, and there would be plenty of time to work on a solution to that problem. Tonight, he wanted to be with Megan, to hold her in his arms, to make love to her and forget baseball.

It wasn’t until Megan carried the salad to the table, that Jeff noticed there were only two place settings. “Where’s Jase?”

“He went out.”

Jeff helped move the rest of the serving dishes to the table, then they took their seats next to each other. “He does that a lot these days,” he said.

“I didn’t think you noticed.”

He helped himself to salad and took a large helping of casserole. “I noticed. Do you know what’s up?”

“You should ask him. I think I know, but please, will you talk to him?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Jase has always kept things to himself, even when we were kids. Of course, I could beat it out of him then.”

“I don’t think that’s a good solution now. Why don’t you just ask him? For me?”

Whatever was bothering Jase, he’d eventually get around to talking about, but Megan’s concern made him wonder if she knew something he didn’t. Jason was a big boy; he certainly didn’t need Jeff to sort out his life for him. “We aren’t kids anymore. He’s a grown man, he can work it out on his own.”

“Please?” she wheedled. “I’m worried about him.”

The quiet way she said those last words made him take notice. He knew she loved Jase. How could she not and do the things they did together? It wasn’t like her to share herself with someone she didn’t love, but how deep did her feelings go for his brother? He dropped his fork and stared at his plate. Had they had a fight he didn’t know about? Is that why Jason had been scarce the last few months? Something foul churned in his stomach. Jealousy? No. Megan loved him, and he’d always known she loved Jason too, so it couldn’t be jealousy. That didn’t make sense, but something had soured in his stomach when she admitted she was worried about his brother. Christ, what was wrong with him?

“He’ll be fine. I’ve got to pack. We’re leaving early tomorrow because of the two-hour time change.” Jeff shoved back from the table, unable to look at Megan. He couldn’t bear to see the hurt he’d put there on top of her worry for Jason. Everything she felt showed on her face, it always had. So, how had he missed how she felt about Jase?

“Jeff, wait!”

He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other until he was far enough away from the kitchen he couldn’t feel her confusion or her concern any longer. Shit. This was the last thing he needed – his personal life falling apart when he needed to be concentrating on pitching. More specifically, on how to shut down Martin McCree. When you only threw a few pitches, and only in games when your team was ahead by a small margin, every outing had the potential to be a career maker, or breaker, depending on the outcome. A good inning was nine pitches or less, and unlike a starting pitcher, he was expected to have a zero earned run average. Anything less meant he wasn’t doing his job.

He pulled a suitcase off the closet shelf and flipped it open on the bed. Ten days in hotels, eating in restaurants, and sleeping alone. He crossed to the dresser, yanked open a drawer and without bothering to count, tossed a handful of boxer briefs into the open suitcase. A couple of handfuls of socks followed. He frowned as half of them bounced and scattered across the bed. Well, hell. He picked up the stray socks and neatly tucked them into the suitcase, counted his boxers and added a few more in precise stacks. Slovenly living wouldn’t make his situation any better. By the time he finished packing, he’d almost convinced himself the time on the road would be a good thing. With nothing else to do, he could concentrate on finding Martin McCree’s weakness. Then, the next time he had to face the bastard, he’d be ready.

Maybe it wasn’t rational, but Jeff couldn’t help thinking McCree could be the single biggest challenge of his career, now, and in the future. If he could find a way to win the battle with the steroid-pumped hitting monster, he’d carve a place for himself in the record books. Jeff closed his suitcase and set it beside the door. He undressed and stretched out on the bed, thinking about what he wanted to accomplish in his career. He might never be the caliber of closer Mariano Rivera or Trevor Hoffman, but if he played it right, he could be a name people remembered. But first, he had to get the better of Martin McCree.

He heard Megan’s footsteps sometime later. She paused outside his door, and he felt a pang of guilt at the way he’d left her sitting at the table. He should call to her, ask her to come in so he could apologize, maybe lift the covers and invite her to join him. That’s what she would expect the night before a long road trip. She would come to him, he knew she would, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she might give herself to him, but all the time, she’d be wishing she were with Jason.

Damn. He flashed back to that time he’d found them in the pool together. How long ago was that? A month? Two? He couldn’t remember, but that was the last time they’d been together as a threesome. He’d walked in, practically demanding to join them. Had he invited himself into something where he wasn’t wanted? A cold chill shivered down his spine and shriveled his scrotum as that thought settled in his brain.

Was that why Jase had been so distant? Had the relationship between Megan and his brother developed into something more when he hadn’t been looking? That would account for Jason’s aloofness for the last few weeks, and Megan’s concerns.

Jeff tossed the covers aside and turned on the lamp next to the bed. Naked, he paced the length of the room and back again. The same nauseating feeling he had during dinner gripped his gut. Jealousy. Doubt. Disgust.

He’d made love to Megan several times since that evening in the pool. The thought that he’d been making time with his brother’s woman turned his bowels to water. Surely, if she loved Jason that way, she wouldn’t have welcomed him to her bed. Would she?

Christ. When had he begun to think of Megan as his? He hadn’t really had any qualms about sharing her with Jason because he always thought there was nothing more than sex between Jason and Megan. Blind. He was fucking blind. How could he not have seen it? He’d come to think of Jason as the extra, the one they brought into the relationship for fun. Jeff stopped pacing and stared at his reflection in the darkened mirror. Dear God. It was him. He was the extra.

And he was in love with Megan.

His knees gave out, and he felt behind him for the edge of the bed. He stumbled back and sat, propping his pounding head up with his hands. His elbows dug into his thighs, but that was nothing compared to the churning in his gut.

Now he admitted to himself just how far gone he was. He’d actually been thinking of a future – with Megan. Kids. A family. Marrying her. Christ. When had that happened? And how blind could he be? Sure, she wanted those things, she’d said so often enough. But now he knew when she talked about those things, he’d seen himself as the father.

And she’d been seeing Jason. Well, shit. How freakin’ fucked up was that?

Chapter Thirteen

Megan stared at Jeff’s retreating back. To be such simple creatures, men could be totally incomprehensible at times. First Jason, now Jeff. She felt like the ballerina in the jewelry box she had when she was a kid, wound up, and dancing in circles until she was dizzy and confused. And, like that tiny ballerina, once they slammed the lid down, completely in the dark.

She cleared the table with more than a grumble at being left to do the kitchen clean-up by herself. It would serve them both right to wake up to a dirty kitchen. Megan flicked off the light and headed upstairs to her room. A strip of light spilling across the carpet told her Jeff was still awake. She paused outside his door, her emotions warring inside. It was tempting to tell him what she thought of his behavior, but another part understood the stress he was under. Stats were everything in baseball. A player’s value and popularity was only as good as their last game. Still, that didn’t excuse his behavior. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

All she’d done was voice her concerns about his brother, something she thought she had every right to do. She’d promised Jason she wouldn’t tell Jeff, but she didn’t promise she wouldn’t get Jeff to talk to him.

Jeff’s reaction didn’t make any sense. Jason and Jeff were close, so close it was surprising that Jeff didn’t know what was going on all ready. Maybe he did, and he didn’t want to talk about it with her. She swallowed that thought like a hot lead ball. They were pushing her away – both of them.

She made it to her room across the hall, barely. She sat on the end of the bed and stared across the darkened room at the closed door. Her heart continued to pump, oblivious to the grievous wound inflicted on it moments ago. Tears formed and she swiped them away with trembling fingertips. How had her world shifted so completely without her knowing?

Jeff and Jason didn’t want her anymore. Pain knifed through her, doubling her over. She loved them, and they loved her. How could things have changed so much, so quickly, without her knowing? Because she was a blind fool, that’s why. She’d wanted it so much, she let her guard down, and Jason had moved on, and now Jeff.

It had been so easy to let her dreams blossom into a full-blown fantasy – one that included children and a lifetime with the man she loved. Jason had seen it. Hadn’t he admitted as much earlier today? So what had happened with Jeff? Why was he pushing her away? Even Jason said Jeff loved her.

She saw it now – crystal clear. Jeff loved her, but he wasn’t
in love
with her.

Megan crawled onto the bed and curled into a tight ball on top of the covers. Tears flowed like blood from an open wound. She felt as brittle as glass. She clutched her midsection in tightly wrapped arms, as if doing so would keep her insides from shattering. Vignettes of time spent with Jeff tormented her with all the reasons she believed he loved her. Memories of his touch, his smile, his words were etched on her glass heart. No matter how many times she revisited those moments, she couldn’t reconcile the man she loved, and who she was certain loved her, with the man across the hall.

Footsteps woke her. She lay still; listening as Jason moved past her door then opened and closed his own. She could go to him, talk to him about Jeff. No sooner had the idea formed than she dismissed it. Jason didn’t need her dragging her personal drama to his door, not in the middle of the season. He had his own set of worries. The media might not focus on him, but team management did. Calling pitches was his job, and getting McCree out was as much his responsibility as it was the pitchers’. No, she couldn’t dump her insecurities on Jason’s shoulders.

Daylight glimmered on the horizon when she dressed and made her way downstairs. She was working the late shift today, so the morning was hers. She made a point of attending the home games as often as her schedule permitted, but traveling with the team was out of the question, so they’d made a tradition of sharing breakfast on travel days.

Coffee was first on the agenda, then breakfast. Lying awake most of the night, she’d come to a conclusion. She’d keep her insecurities to herself. That meant acting as if nothing had happened. And in truth, nothing had. She’d played the evening over and over again in her mind, and though she’d been hurt by Jeff’s behavior, she wasn’t sure he was even aware of what he’d done. That didn’t make it hurt any less. If anything, it made it worse. If Jeff didn’t know he’d hurt her, then that in itself told a story. Her feelings were one-sided. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but really, it was her own fault. She’d come into this relationship with nothing more than the promise of great sex, and they’d delivered on that time and again. It was her own stupid fault for falling in love with one of them.

* * * *

“Are you okay?” Jason asked.

 Megan added a couple toast slices to a plate and handed it across the table to him. “Fine. Jelly?” She held up the jar of grape jelly.

He shook his head. “No thanks.” The jelly jar hit the table with enough force to rattle the silverware. If he weren’t in such a hurry, he’d have pressed her for details, because she most certainly wasn’t fine. Judging by her red-rimmed eyes and puffy face, she’d been crying. Jason racked his brain for anything he might have done to make her cry and couldn’t come up with anything. She seemed fine when he left. Concerned for him maybe, but not on the verge of tears. That left Jeff. He wondered what his brother had done or said, but it was going to have to wait. The limo they’d hired to take them to the airport would be there in a few minutes. Not enough time to dissect, then fix the problem, and sew everything back up neatly.

Jeff came into the kitchen as the limo driver honked his horn. He leaned over Megan’s shoulder, grabbed a slice of toast from her plate and landed a perfunctory kiss on the top of her head. “Gotta go. Thanks for breakfast.” Jason watched his brother’s retreating back. Something was definitely up between Jeff and Megan. The protective shell Megan pulled around her when Jeff walked in would make an armadillo jealous. Jason thanked Megan for breakfast and stooped to kiss her full on the lips before he left. It wasn’t much of a kiss, he didn’t feel he had the right to anything more, but she softened under his touch. Yet, there wasn’t a spark of interest. He might as well have kissed his sister.

“See ya when we get back. We’ll call.”

Jeff had already loaded his luggage and slid into the backseat by the time Jason came out. He stowed his own suitcase, then pulled the door shut behind him and settled into the seat across from Jeff. His brother looked like shit. He was impeccably groomed, as usual, but his eyes looked like cheap animation for a Visine commercial. Jason had seen vampires with more color.

“Want to talk about it?” Jason asked.

Jeff glanced at him, then turned his attention to the landscape. “No. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Uh huh.” Jason recognized the tone and the body language. Jeff wasn’t going to talk. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have his say. “Look, asshole. I don’t know what you did to Megan, but you’d better find a way to make it right. Send her some flowers or something. Better yet, call her. Ten days is a long time to let something simmer.”

“Shut the fuck up! You don’t know what you are talking about. If you think Megan has a problem, you call her. She’d rather talk to you anyway.”

“What the hell? I don’t know what happened last night, but Megan was fine when I left the house, so that means you did something to her. Did you see her eyes? No, of course you didn’t. You didn’t take the time to look at her, did you? Whatever you did, it made her cry. All night long, from the looks of it.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Then maybe that’s what’s wrong. She wanted something and you didn’t give it to her.”

Jeff continued to stare out the side window at the passing cars and billboards. Jason waited. Sometimes he knew what his brother was thinking, as if they shared the same internal circuit boards. But other times, like now, he didn’t have a clue what was going on inside that head that looked so much like his own. So he waited. When Jeff finally spoke, the defeat in his voice shocked Jason.

“I can’t give her what she wants.” The words sounded like they’d been wrenched from him with a rusty crowbar. Jason stared at the man across from him. This wasn’t the confident, over-achiever brother he knew.

“What, exactly, does she want?”

“I don’t know, exactly. All I know is – it’s not something I can give her.”

The finality in Jeff’s statement stopped Jason cold. He’d felt like a third wheel for so long, it hadn’t occurred to him that maybe things weren’t so great between Jeff and Megan either. He’d been certain Megan loved his brother, and wanted to make a life with him. Maybe that was it. Maybe she’d asked for more and Jeff had said no. It would be just like his brother to do something stupid like throw away the best thing that ever happened to him. What he couldn’t figure out was why.

It didn’t make any sense. Jeff had to know how Megan felt about him. Hell, if Jason could figure it out, then anyone could, even Jeff. That only meant Jeff didn’t return her feelings, but if that was true, then why was Jeff so down?

The limo weaved through the early morning traffic and deposited them on the sidewalk in front of the terminal. Worries about Jeff and Megan took a backseat to getting through security and the inevitable autograph-signing as they were recognized by fans. He usually didn’t mind interacting with the fans, but today, when things weighed so heavily on his mind, it was more difficult to put on a smile and say the right things. All he wanted to do was get to the VIP lounge and find a quiet place to think.

* * * *

Jason climbed out of the cab and tossed the driver a twenty. He joined his brother at the stadium gate where Jeff was talking to the guard on duty.

“Yeah, we’re early,” Jeff said. “I need a little extra time to get loose.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Holder You being loose probably isn’t a good thing for the home team, but hey! I’ve always been a Mustangs fan, so you go on in and make yourself at home.” His gaze shifted to Jason. “You too, Mr. Holder.”

Jason shifted his duffel bag to his left hand and extended his right to the guard. “Thanks…”

“George. You can call me George.”

“I’m Jason, and this is Jeff. No need to be formal.” George’s smile could light up the ballpark if the power went out. “We appreciate you letting us in, George.”

“No problem. Hey, since you’re here, and all…could I get your autographs?”

“Sure,” Jeff said. “Do you have a piece of paper or something?

George flipped a page over on his clipboard and handed it to Jeff who signed and passed it to Jason. He signed his name and handed it back. They shook hands all around before Jeff and Jason headed into the tunnel leading to the clubhouse. They changed into practice gear in the visiting team’s locker room and headed out to the bullpen.

“I want to go on record as opposing this.”

“Just shut up and catch, will you? I’ll work this out on my own.”

Jason caught the warm-up throw and returned it with more force than was strictly necessary. “I’ll shut up when you start acting sensible. You can’t keep throwing this much every day. It’s not good for your arm.”

“It’s not your career on the line, Asshole. McCree is hitting everything thrown at him these days. I can’t keep throwing him inside heat. I’ve got to find a way to get McCree out, and working a curve ball into my portfolio might do the trick.”

“I doubt it. Your curve ball sucks, bro.” They were halfway through their road trip, and Jeff had dragged Jason to the field every day for a few extra hours of pitching practice. His curve ball had started off bad in high school, and from what Jason could see, it hadn’t improved one bit.

“I haven’t heard you come up with a better idea.”

“That’s because I don’t have one. McCree is a stupid shit. He’s digging his own grave, one steroid shot at a time. Eventually, that’s going to catch up to him and he’ll be out for a lot more than one at bat.”

“Until that happens, and I have little faith that it will, he’s still a problem. I can break records, but the one I’d like most to break is McCree’s homerun record.”

Jason slid his mask into place and crouched low. They’d had this same conversation at least a million times over the last few days. Jeff wasn’t going to budge. Jason could refuse to help, but knowing Jeff, he’d ask one of the other team members to catch for him. In the meantime, he’d continue trying to talk some sense into his hardheaded brother. Besides, they were on the road, what else did they have to do?

“You should be working with Nate. He’s the pitching coach. It’s his job to figure what pitches you should be throwing.”

“Yeah? How’s that working out for Andy, or Jose, or any of the others? They’ve been listening to Nate and their ERA’s look more like shoe sizes.”

 “Maybe so, but throwing the same bad pitch over and over isn’t going to help any. If you’re determined to throw a curve, you need someone who can help you fix whatever’s wrong with it. I’m not that guy.”

He caught another lousy pitch and stood to throw the ball back. “Have you talked to Megan?”

“No.”

Another curve ball – worse than the previous one. “Why the hell not?”

“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?”