Making the Play (22 page)

Her heart ached but Bethany didn't feel any regret in spite of the pain she knew would come. Grant had taught her to trust again, both in herself as a mother and as a woman. He'd taught her to love again, and that, even when it hurt, the loving was worth it.

And she loved him.

There was no doubt about that fact. He'd somehow wiggled past her every defense and stolen her heart completely. Maybe it had been when he showed up at the school to see James, or the way he'd helped James learn to stand up for himself, or the simple fact that he saw beyond the surface of both of them. She'd fallen in love with a man who'd cared for her
and
her son.

But she would keep that information to herself because that would cross the line. Telling him would force Grant to make a decision she couldn't ask him to make. She wouldn't ask him to stay. If Grant decided to stay with a team, or to take this job he was offered, she didn't want to hold him back, even if it meant losing him. That wasn't fair to any of them. He would only end up resenting her and James in the end.

However, if they could part on good terms, they could still be friends and maybe, she prayed, James wouldn't be as hurt. If they were still on good terms, Grant would stay in touch and call or visit James whenever he came through town. It would have to be enough.

Who's using James now?

She wasn't, not really, but she couldn't deny that she wanted to remain connected to Grant, somehow, no matter how bittersweet it would be. The reality of their situation was that he was leaving and was likely to be so busy soon that he would forget about both her and James in the bustle of his busy career, whichever path he chose. She didn't doubt his feelings for either of them, but he'd laid out his two options for his future and he'd never suggested they join him.

She pictured the face of her beautiful, wide-­eyed son. She'd poured every waking moment of the last six years of her life into him, adored him beyond belief, but Grant had come along and poked a hole in the bubble she'd created around them both. She thought she'd been enough for him and he'd been enough to complete her, but they were both missing a vital part. Grant had filled that void without really trying and now she wasn't sure how she was going to go back.

How was she going to explain to James that Grant was leaving and she didn't know when or if he was coming back because she didn't even have an answer?

Hot tears burned in her eyes, sliding over the bridge of her nose to fall on his chest.

“Honey, don't.” Grant's thumb brushed the trail her tears had created.

“I'm sorry.” She didn't want him to see her cry, not after her confident words. Not after the tender way he'd made love to her a second time. She swiped at the tears, blinking them back. “I'm just going to miss you.”

“You don't have to.” She lifted her gaze, praying he couldn't see the hope that his words caused to flare in her. “What if you and James came with me?”

“What? He has school.”

“We'll get him a tutor, or you could teach him.” His fingers played over her shoulders sending tingles of longing down her spine as he brushed her hair away from her neck. “We could travel and he could come to games. We'd be together.”

She let herself bask in his offer for a moment, to relish the idea of being with Grant, for just a little longer. As much as she hated to admit it, Bethany knew it wouldn't work. James needed stability,
she
needed stability, and traveling across the country to games, watching him play, being an accessory, wasn't a life she could manage for her or her son. She'd had enough difficulties facing the newspaper articles here in town, she couldn't imagine dealing with the national news media. As much as she wanted to accept Grant's offer, she knew it would never work.

Grant sighed, as if he'd come to the same realization. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Will you let me tell him?”

She'd spent so many years protecting James from being hurt that her natural instinct was to say no, but James needed to hear the truth from Grant. They'd built a relationship apart from her and she had to trust that Grant wouldn't hurt her son.

“But don't do it until tomorrow. Let him enjoy tonight with you.”

Grant's face was grim as he nodded and she was sorry that she'd broken the spell he'd woven around them with her pathetic tears. “We should head back.”

She barely managed the words without crying because the sooner they returned to the ranch, the closer she was to Monday and Grant's departure.

“In a second,” he said, winding his arms around her tightly, pressing their bodies together so closely they were practically one. “I want to hold you just a little longer.”

 

Chapter Twenty-­Two

G
RANT AWOKE WIT
H
a sense of dread building in the pit of his stomach. It had begun yesterday when he'd asked Bethany to come with him. He hadn't even meant to make the request. He had no business asking her to follow him when he had no idea where he was even going. What kind of life was that to offer her? But once the words had slipped from his lips, he knew he wanted her to say yes more than he wanted his next breath.

She'd made the right decision, both for James and herself. He knew that, so he hadn't brought it up again, but the hollow ache had started building immediately. The same hollow ache he'd once felt at the thought of losing football.

When he'd taken that last hit, he'd known something was wrong. When he couldn't jump back up the way he usually did, when the dizziness wouldn't quite clear and the ringing in his ears wouldn't go away, he'd known. The thing with football was that even when you got hurt, you played through it. Every player knew that. The same way they knew that there were only so many hits you could take before you're through—­you just don't know that number until it arrives.

In spite of what he'd tried to convince everyone else of over the past three months, and what he'd tried to convince himself of, he had a suspicion that he'd taken the last hit he was going to be able to physically take without permanently damaging his body. Later tonight, he was boarding a plane to find out just how true that suspicion might be.

But it wasn't just the possible end of his career that had him on edge, it was what that end might signify. Regardless of what the doctor said, he was standing on the precipice of a new beginning—­he could start over, either with one of a few options for his career or with a woman who made him feel more alive than did a game that had been his life for almost twenty-­five years. But he still hadn't figured out a way to have both.

Grant had to either cut himself off from football or from Bethany and James. As he watched them walking toward him, he felt the emptiness spread through him at the thought of telling them both goodbye, even temporarily.

“Grant!” Little legs pumped quickly as James ran to him, throwing his arms around Grant's legs. He scooped James into his arms and tossed him into the air, catching him easily before holding him in one arm and wrapping the other around Bethany.

He knew he probably shouldn't pull her close, knew it might make James question their relationship, but he needed to touch her, needed her presence to ground him and give him the strength for what he was about to say. He tried to paste a bright smile on his face.

“You ready to go for a walk before you head home?”

“Aw.” James pouted slightly.
I don't want to go
, he signed, as if saying the words were too difficult.

“Not just yet, but soon,” Bethany promised. “We'll go for a walk and you guys can play catch for a few minutes.” Bethany's voice seemed too controlled and Grant couldn't bear the finality in her tone. “But first we should go say goodbye to Shorty.”

The three of them walked to the pen where the pony lazily grazed. As soon as he saw the three of them approach, he nickered quietly and walked to the fence for attention.

“He's going to miss me,” James stated confidently. “We need to come visit him a lot more, Mom.”

Bethany gave Grant a watery smile at James' childish simplicity.

“You can come visit Shorty whenever you want. You and your mom are always welcome to drop in here.”

“Mrs. Sarah and Ms. Maddie told me that too.” James beamed up at him.

Grant glanced at Bethany and could see the tears misting her eyes. He wasn't sure whether they were tears of sorrow or joy but, assuming she felt even close to the way he did, they were both. She nodded at him slightly and he knew the moment had come for him to tell James about his departure.

“Hey, James.” Grant squatted onto the balls of his feet so that he was nearly eye level with the boy he'd come to care so deeply about in a very short time. “You know it's almost time for spring training to start.”

“I don't know what that is,” he informed Grant, not even looking away from Shorty as he pet him through the fence. “But Grandpa asked me if you were going.”

“When did Grandpa ask you that?” Bethany sounded concerned.

“The last time I talked to him, before we came here. He said spring training was starting soon and Grant would have to go unless he was too hurt.” He turned to face Grant and laid a hand on his shoulder, a look of concern far too wise for a six-­year-­old boy on his face. “I hope you're not hurt.”

“That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” A frown marred the boy's brow and Grant knew he'd do almost anything to wipe it away. “I have to go on a plane later today to see what the doctors say, to see if I'm too hurt to play football anymore. I might be gone for a while.”

“My doctor appointments take a long time too.” James sighed and rolled his eyes as Grant looked to Bethany for confirmation.

“He means his audiologist and the surgeon,” she explained. “Baby, Grant has to go all the way back to Memphis, where Grandma and Grandpa are, to see his doctors and hopefully, if he's not hurt, then he'll start playing football again.”

The frown was back on James' face as he searched Grant's eyes for some sort of explanation.
When are you coming back?
he signed.

Grant wanted to promise the boy he'd return soon, that he'd see him next week, that he wasn't leaving for good, but it could all be lies and would only hurt James more than the simple truth.

I don't know
, he signed back. “As soon as I can, but it might be a while.”

James took several deep breaths. Grant saw his little chest hitch and he caught the way his mouth turned down as James tried not to cry. A knot lodged in his throat, choking him from saying anything more, and he tugged the little boy into his arms. James buried his face into Grant's neck, wrapping his arms around it and squeezing tightly, as if he feared letting go would mean that Grant would disappear. Bethany took a step forward and laid her hand on James' back before circling her arms around them both. The three of them remained like that, clinging to one another as James' tears burned Grant's skin, scalding him, scarring him, the same way Bethany's had the day before.

Grant pressed a quick kiss to Bethany's temple. “What do you say we play a little catch before you have to go home, James?” The boy hesitated a moment, as if unsure he could even let go of Grant long enough to play.

James nodded but looked to his mother, his eyes begging her to change Grant's mind. It was almost enough to make Grant cancel his doctor appointment and meetings altogether. Almost.

B
ETHANY STARED BACK
at Grant through the windshield of her car as she backed out of the driveway of his parents' ranch. With his hand raised, James had waved goodbye but Bethany hadn't been able to do anything except think back over the past weekend, wishing that she could have done something differently, something that might have made Grant want to stay. Driving her sleeping son to their empty house, Bethany was greeted by nothing but silence and it was deafening.

This is who he is.

She'd known it from the first time she'd met him but that didn't stop her heart from coming up with what-­if scenarios to torture her. Nothing had shredded her heart the way James' silent tears had during the ride home. She'd never been so grateful as she was when her son had finally fallen asleep in the back seat. Even then, the trail of silver tears lining his cheeks and the little hiccups as his heart continued to break, even in slumber, shattered hers. She tried to stop the regrets from choking her, threatening to drown her.

She'd meant what she'd said when she told Grant that their time together was worth every bit of the pain losing him would cause, but that didn't lessen the hurt. And it didn't make her feel less guilty about James' suffering now.

She pressed the heel of her palm against the left side of her chest, where her heart used to reside. What she hadn't expected was that this didn't just hurt—­it was agonizing.

Pulling the car into the garage, she pressed the button to close the door and unclipped James from his car seat. Scooping his little body into her arms, she carried him into the house and slid him into his bed, removing the microphones and batteries. She brushed her fingers over the hair hanging into his face. At least he was peaceful for now, but tomorrow would bring new difficulties for him as he tried to return to life without Grant. She slid the sheets over his shoulders.

“Who are you kidding?” she whispered in the darkness. “You're going to miss him even more than James will.”

Bethany heard the faint sound of her ring tone from the phone still in her car and hurried back to get it out of her purse, hoping it was Grant. She reached for the phone in the cup holder in time to see that it was only her mother.

She'd call her back. She couldn't talk to anyone right now.

Wandering into the kitchen, she dropped her purse on the counter as the cell phone vibrated in her hand, notifying her of a text message.

Just got to the airport. I'll call when I get to Memphis.

She stared at the screen for a few moments, waiting to see if he was going to text more. When he didn't, she typed her reply.
Have a safe trip. I'll talk to you soon.

There was so much more she wanted to add to the message. A heart and an
I love you
, but she was afraid to say more. She didn't want to lay any more expectation in his lap when he had enough to worry about. She carried her phone into her room and sat on the edge of her bed, hoping he would text again but not surprised when he didn't. He had an important appointment tomorrow and needed to mentally prepare.

Minutes ticked by and she looked around her room. It was funny how it hadn't reminded her of Grant until now, when he was no longer there and the likelihood of his coming back was slim. She tossed the phone aside and curled up on the bed, pulling her knees to her chest, clinging to a pillow. She barely felt the tears as they started to slide down her cheeks. All she knew was that the pillow she clung to still smelled like the lingering scent of Grant's cologne, haunting her, reminding her of how close she'd come to having the man of her dreams.

And how she'd just lost him.

G
RANT GLANCED
AT
his watch as he hailed a taxi outside the terminal doors. What should have been a seven-­hour trip had turned into a nightmarish twelve hours, most of it stuck up in the air, thanks to a storm in Chicago. He'd be lucky to check into the hotel and get a shower before he had to leave for his ten a.m. physical with his doctors. He was tired, hungry and the only place he really wanted to be right now was lying in a bed with Bethany in his arms.

Loading his suitcase into the trunk of the cab, he gave the driver the address of the hotel he'd booked for the night. He'd subleased his condo when he'd left and the lease wasn't up for another two weeks, when spring training was set to begin. He probably should have just canceled the hotel room since he didn't have time to use the bed he was dying to crawl into. He'd tried to sleep on the plane but images of Bethany and James kept him awake cursing his decision, making him wonder what was keeping him from just turning his back on this ridiculous fantasy of playing ball again.

Tearful blue eyes filled his mind. The sorrow he'd caused James and Bethany ate at him and Grant knew this misery he was feeling was only a portion of the punishment he deserved.

Arriving late had its benefits, and Grant was able to check into his room quickly, tossing his bag onto the bed and turning on the shower. He rubbed his eyes, exhausted, but knew he didn't have time to give in to the weariness that threatened to overtake him. Instead, he prepared coffee in the small pot provided by the hotel. It wasn't the most appealing option but perhaps a little caffeine would give him enough of a jolt to keep his system functioning long enough to fake his way through this appointment. He stripped his clothing off, tossing it on the foot of the bed before opening the bathroom door, letting the steam pour from the room, invading his lungs. He stood under the scalding water, praying it would burn away the memories of stubborn hazel eyes that refused to ask him to stay.

Grant ran his hands through his hair, lathering it with shampoo and scrubbing roughly, trying anything that might rid his mind of the vision of Bethany lying in his arms. He'd been a fool to believe he could hold her, make love to her and leave. With the way he'd grown closer to her each day, he should have known that one time with her would never be enough. Even now, he would give anything to walk away—­from the doctors, the game and his future in football—­get back on a plane and return to her.

The sound of the alarm on his phone jerked him from reliving the fantasy of his afternoon with Bethany. He'd set the alarm early this morning when he'd been stranded in Chicago waiting out the storm and he realized there was going to be little opportunity for sleep. He'd wanted to make sure he didn't miss his appointment. The more he thought about it, the more he didn't really care if he made it, other than the fact that missing it meant he'd given up.

And that one fact was what was holding him back. He'd never been a quitter. Bethany had basically said the same and he'd loved her even more for recognizing the reality of the man he was. In his eyes, quitting was more than just weakness, it was something he knew he could never do and maintain any respect for himself. If he couldn't respect himself, he couldn't ask Bethany to respect him.

Rinsing quickly, he wrapped a towel around his hips and dug a pair of exercise pants and a t-­shirt from his bag, not even bothering to shave. He quickly brushed his teeth and tossed a change of clothing into a small bag. Pouring a coffee into the to-­go cup in the room, he grabbed it, his wallet and room key before rushing down to the lobby.