Night Games (24 page)

But I guess I can see where he’s coming from now. If something does go wrong between us, I’d have a distinct advantage—a publicity juggernaut, a team of lawyers, a hefty bank account. It wouldn’t be a fair fight, more like a slam dunk in my favor. Wow. Grey’s father is already looking that far down the road, picturing heated child custody disputes…for kids that don’t even exist.

I swallow, trying to collect my thoughts.

“Yeah, he spooked you, didn’t he? Damn it, Richie. I apologize for my husband, Chase. He gets a little high-handed when I’m not there to keep him in check.”

Grey looks away at her mom’s words, no doubt thinking of the day when her mom really won’t be there to scold her father.

“No, it’s fine, Mrs. Kelleher, really.”

“My goodness, you’re even better looking in person.”

“Mom!”

“What? Can’t I admire a handsome man when I see one?”

“Not out loud.”

“I still think you should have been named Sexiest Man Alive instead of the scrawny judge on that singing competition. A man who weighs less than most women? What’s sexy about that?”

“Oh God, Mom.”

“Chase, look at you, all nice and developed. Now that’s what I call a bicep. Come over here. Let me see for myself just how strong you are.”

Grey’s face is beet red, but I’m getting a kick out of her mother. Now I can see where Grey gets her feistiness from.

“Go ahead, Mrs. Kelleher. Be my guest.”

I move up to the side of the bed on my crutches and she reaches up to give my arm a good squeeze.

“Solid as a rock.”

“Too bad I can’t say the same for my knee.”

“Too bad I can’t say the same for my whole body.”

I immediately feel like I just stuck my foot in my mouth, comparing my trivial health problem to hers.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Of course not. Don’t even pay attention to me. But did you ever have one of those days when you’d do anything to feel normal again? Even just for a day?”

“Lately, I’m afraid I have, ma’am.”

“Then you know where I’m coming from then. We can complain to each other all we want about our aches and pains.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Well, not to me,” Grey says. “Mom, Chase came here to cheer you up, not so the two of you could sit here and commiserate together.”

“But he is cheering me up, dear.”

“I am?” I ask, somewhat surprised.

“Sure. I’m getting a contact high just being around you. No wonder my daughter’s so crazy about you.”

“Is it that obvious?” Grey asks, playfully swatting my arm as I step away from her mom’s bedside.

“You were on the Jumbotron at Kings Stadium, screaming my name. It’s kind of dead giveaway.” I wink at Mrs. Kelleher out of the corner of my eye.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope. I don’t think so.”

Grey’s mom stares off into space, a vacant expression on her face.

“Maybe we should go. You’re getting tired, Mom. I don’t want to wear you out.”

“But promise you’ll come again soon. Chase, I have so much to tell you about Grey. So many stories. Like the time she cut her own hair or when she nearly drown when we were at the beach. You’re going to have your hands full keeping up with her, but you’ll have lots of fun too. No one lives life to the fullest like Grey does. She’s my fearless girl.”

Her mom’s eyes start to close, and Grey struggles to blink back her tears. Lowering her head, she turns away from me for a moment as she strokes her mom’s hand with her thumb before tucking it beneath the blanket.

“Are you ready?” she asks, trying to maintain her composure. If she doesn’t want to cry here, that’s fine. But she’s going to have to let it out when we’re alone. It’s too much to deal with. I don’t want her holding it all in because she thinks I’m uncomfortable dealing with emotion. I want her to feel whatever she wants to feel in front of me—no judgment, no blame.

“Yeah, if you are. I’m so glad I got to meet you, Mrs. Kelleher.” I glance down but it appears she’s already fallen asleep. Grey sniffles and I clear my throat, trying to lighten the mood. “You two resemble each other so much. It’s scary.”

“Really? Everyone thinks Erin’s the one who takes after her. They always compare me to Dad. I guess it’s because we always walk around all summer with terrible sunburns. It’s not easy being whiter than white.”

Grey leans forward to give her mom a kiss on the forehead. I can see how much it’s hurting her to see her mother like this. Shriveling down, until there’s nothing left. It’s amazing how bright her mom’s spirit still burns in a body that’s wasting away.

I pat Mrs. Kelleher’s feet beneath the layer of blankets. It’s another hot one outside, but her lips are blue like she can’t get warm enough. I remember J.J. feeling cold all of the time after her chemo treatments. She would be cuddled up on the couch in wool sweaters while everyone else was poolside at my Florida mansion. Those days still hang like a dark cloud in my memory, never to be forgotten.

I don’t want it to be the same way for Grey. I’ll have to talk to her dad about what I can do to make his wife as comfortable as possible. Have J.J.’s doctor examine her medical records. Find out if there’s any chance she could still beat this. Grey told me that they were running into problems with her insurance coverage. Maybe I can open up some doors before it’s too late.

I hear the thundering footsteps and jubilant laughter before I see the two little boys who jump out at us, blocking our path.

“I told you it’s him.”

“Wow, it really is.”

“He’s sick too just like Grandma. See his crutches?”

“But he doesn’t have a cast. Where am I supposed to sign my name?”

“What would he want your autograph for? You still hit off a tee.”

“So?”

“So, he’s Chase Whitfield. He hits them into the upper deck of Kings Stadium.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t hit off a tee.”

My response floors them. They look up at me startled.

“You do?”

“Yeah. All the time usually during batting practice or in between innings beneath the stadium. It’s how I work on my swing with the hitting coach. Make sure I’m not pulling off the ball or stepping into a pitch too soon.”

“See, Randy? Hitting off a tee is cool.”

“I never said it wasn’t, Jacob.”

“Chase, meet my nephews,” Grey says, interrupting their banter.

“Erin’s boys?”

“How can you tell?”

At that, I have to laugh as they both look at us like we’ve lost our minds.

Mr. Kelleher’s voice comes booming out of the kitchen. “Keep it down in there, you two. Your grandmother’s trying to sleep.”

“You wanna go out back and give us some pointers?”

“Randy, I don’t think Chase is up for that right now,” Grey reprimands them.

“Nah, I don’t mind. Lead the way, guys.” I hop along behind them as Jacob holds the door open for me.

“You coming, Dad?” Grey asks. “It’s not too often that you have an All-Star shortstop playing Wiffle ball in your backyard. What will the neighbors say?” She chuckles before helping Randy round up the equipment.

Through the window, I see her father put down his newspaper and get up from the kitchen table. This impromptu hitting session seems to have attracted his attention. Good. I hope it’ll give them all a little levity.

For the next hour, I instruct the boys on how to keep their shoulders back and extend their arms. I even use my crutch to whack a couple up against the fence. Grey is getting a workout, dodging back and forth to scoop up the balls that are being hit all over the yard. But she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she and the boys look like they’re having the time of their lives, reminding me that the game I play for a living is supposed to be fun. It’s just been so long since I actually felt that way about it.

“Hey, you ruffians! Time for lunch!”

Randy and Jacob drop their bats the moment they see their mom getting out of the car, carrying a box of pizza. I guess even a member of the Kings can’t compete with food. But I’m surprised to see who Erin’s with. It’s that quiet guy from the restroom at Buster’s Crab Shack. The one who hugged Grey.

I glance at Grey as she notices him too. She gives him a big wave, smiling over at him from across the yard.

“Hi, Brody. Good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too, Grey.”

He lets his eyes linger on her a little too long for my liking. I stagger forward, blocking his view of her. He does a double take when he sees that it’s me.

“Jesus, Chase…Chase Whitfield… How you doing, man?”

“Couldn’t be better.”

He takes in my haggard appearance. I should have sat in the lawn chair like Grey had instructed, but I stayed on my feet while I was putting the boys through their paces. I kept my weight off my knee as much as possible, but that doesn’t mean it’s not bothering me now. It was stupid. I should have listened to her. Now I look weak compared to this guy.

I glance over at Grey as she bends down to retrieve one of the balls. That’s why I couldn’t be better. I’m the one in her life, enjoying what he can only dream about.

“It’s not a pissing contest, Whitfield, all right? Sorry to burst your bubble, but Brody’s already taken. He’s with me. Got it?”

I smirk at Erin as she laces her arm through Brody’s and saunters into the kitchen to greet her dad, the boys already clamoring at the table for some pizza.

“What was that all about? I thought you and Erin were getting along now.” Grey tosses everything into a bin in the garage before joining me.

“We are.”

“Then why did she think you were hitting on Brody?”

For a minute I think she’s serious, before I see that tell tale glimmer in her eye.

“I knew it. All of those stories about you and Drake Schultz must be true. You were just using me this whole time so you could find your way back to Brody. Admit it. You were after him all along, weren’t you?”

“You’re gonna pay for that, Kelleher.”

Letting my crutches clamor to the ground, I lift her off her feet. But my knee gives out and she begins to slide out of my arms. Desperate to hold on to her, my hands fumble down her body until I’m groping her backside. It’s a compromising position to be in, especially in full view of the kitchen window.

“Fall,” she whispers against my lips.

“What?”

“Just fall.” She nudges my good knee with her foot and we tumble onto the grass.

She has a plaid shirt knotted at the waist and I’m itching to untie it. But I already know what we’re doing isn’t going to go much farther than this. The boys can come out at any minute, and I already see a neighbor’s head craning over the other side of the fence to get a better look. I thought I lived in a fishbowl. Guess nothing beats middle-class suburbia.

I kiss her frantically, passionately, dying for more, but coming up empty when she sits back on my stomach, her legs straddling me.

“Grey, we’re not going to stay much longer, right?”

“Nope,” she answers with a wink.

“I like your family and all, but—”

“I know.” She smiles, tracing her fingers across my cheek.

“I still have to get you a new bed.”

“We’ll make due.”

“Grey?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you tell your mom about The Blue Room?”

She shakes her head, unable to meet my eyes. “I chickened out. I couldn’t do it.”

“You did the right thing.”

“I did?” she asks, playing with my shirt.

“Yeah. She doesn’t need to know.”

After witnessing the condition of her mom firsthand, I know Grey made the right decision. She’s perceptive enough to realize that unburdening her guilt might ease her guilty conscience, but it wouldn’t help her mom any. Grey would never hurt someone she cares about like that. She’s too good a person to only think of herself.

“Thank you for saying that.” Her eyes are conveying so much. I just want to wrap her in my arms and never let her go.

“I’ll always be on your side.” I gently stroke her wrist, marveling at her beauty both inside and out.

“And you know I’ve always been your number one fan.” She giggles, causing her body to move against mine.

“But Grey? I don’t think I’m going to make it through lunch.” My heart beats rapidly as she runs her hands down my chest.

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“There’s just one problem.”

“What?”

“I don’t think I can get up. I’m going to need you to help me.”

“Oh no, Chase. Your knee—”

I put my fingers to her lips.

“I promise to be a good boy from now on. And follow all of your instructions to the letter.”

“Well, in that case, I might have something special in store for you tonight.”

“Go on.” My hands are at her waist as I take a deep breath, anticipating what she’s going to say.

“How about I drag my mattress into the back of my truck, drive it deep into the woods, and make love to you under the stars until the sun comes up?”

Shifting onto my good knee, I don’t waste another minute contemplating her suggestion, making a valiant attempt to scramble to my feet.

“Wait! Let me get your crutches.”

“I don’t want to wait. I’ve waited long enough for you, Grey. I want to enjoy every single moment we have together.”

“I’m all for that.” She kisses me again, as she tosses my arm across her shoulders, ready to sustain me.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Grey

February, seven months later

Well, today’s the day—Chase’s first spring training game of the season.

I’m sitting in the area designated for the players’ wives even though technically I’m just a girlfriend. I wanted to sit by myself in some random seat away from the field, but Chase didn’t want to cause any waves on his first day back. And if someone spotted me sitting alone, I’d be swarmed.

When we came down to Florida at the beginning of January, the media followed us everywhere. When we went out to dinner. When we went to the grocery store. When we went to the movies. We were able to live our lives pretty much undetected in Stockton. I knew the ins and outs of that familiar environment. And Jack had installed a security gate at the bottom of the mountain, so no one could drive up our road.

Noah helped too in driving Chase back and forth to Beaver Field to use their workout equipment. He’d go in when the team was on the road or when they had a day off. But once their season ended in August, he had free rein to stop by whenever he wanted. Since the Kings never released a statement about where Chase was rehabbing, they never confirmed that he was back in Stockton. His whereabouts became something of an urban myth, as mysterious sightings were reported all over town. No one ever got a clear shot of him. He was always getting in and out of cars or wearing a hood, or it was too rainy or too dark to tell if it was really him or not.

Adding to the confusion, Chase was never seen on crutches and he was never seen with me. He was always by himself, walking without a limp. This had many Chase fans calling foul. There was no way it could be him. Why would he stay in Stockton when he could go anywhere in the world? Stockton would be the most obvious choice since it was my hometown, but what girl in her right mind would choose to stay when she could jet off somewhere exotic with her millionaire boyfriend?

My thoughts exactly… I thought like a true Stockton girl, and the ruse worked perfectly. Hiding in plain sight was the best thing we could have done. It’s not like we went out much anyway. Chase didn’t like to flaunt his status as a member of the walking wounded. He was still sensitive to having his picture taken while in a wheelchair, even if it was the faster option to avoid the crowds. So he hired a decoy and sent him around Stockton pretending to be him. Firmly cementing in the public’s mind the image of him up and about like everything was fine.

Plus, we were too worried about my mom. Chase arranged an appointment with J.J.’s oncologist, but by then she was too weak to travel, so Chase got him to come to her. The world-renowned physician arrived at my parents’ modest home after Chase got the Kings to lend him their private jet to fly him in. But after examining my mother, he left shaking his head, not leaving us with much hope.

I think Chase took it worse than I did. I had already accepted my mom’s fate somewhere deep inside my heart, but Chase still thought he was capable of fixing every problem, no matter the odds. And that’s what I love about him. It’s not an ego trip. He just wants to use every means at his disposal to help someone in need. If we’d only met sooner, he said, maybe he would’ve been able to save her.

But I didn’t want him shouldering that kind of burden. J.J. was a different case. She was young. She wasn’t a smoker. Her cancer was detected early, and it was a type with more survivable odds. Even I knew my mother was too far gone. There would be no miracle this time.

She passed away the Sunday after Thanksgiving. She didn’t want to go into the hospital, even though they could’ve made her more comfortable. She wanted to die at home in her own bed, and she did. Chase and I, along with Erin and my dad, took turns watching her around the clock in those final weeks. We didn’t even cook a turkey, even though it was my mom’s favorite meal of the year. She wasn’t able to keep anything down at that point and no one felt much like celebrating. We were all so emotionally drained, not wanting to let her go but knowing that having her hang on wasn’t doing her any good either.

We kept the viewing and the funeral private, open only to the immediate family and a few close friends. Chase stood next to me in the receiving line, but no one called attention to the fact that he was there. I expected, after being seen together, it to get out that he was in Stockton, but no one breathed a word about it. They respected my family’s privacy during a very difficult time, keeping our secret under wraps from any prying eyes.

When the bereavement notice hit the local paper, it was picked up by some of the news outlets in New York. The Kings sent a security detail to my parents’ house, preventing the few photographers who tried to get a picture from gaining access. They even set up a temporary fence around the entire house, complete with a wraparound tarp to block us from view.

Erin and my dad took care of each other, and I had Chase to take care of me. I was a wreck in the weeks that followed. I still am. Losing a mother is a loss a person never gets over. It’s impossible to mourn and move on. That pang in my heart will be there for the rest of my life, at some moments sharper than others. She won’t be there at any of the major milestones I expect to happen in my life. And when I think thoughts like that, that’s when I really lose it, and there’s no consoling me.

But sometimes I feel her spirit hovering around me, like today.

She was well aware that I’m no good in these types of social situations. It’s more a venue where Erin would thrive, talking about her kids, comparing notes with the other moms in the group. But I don’t have an automatic in with these women. I can tell by the way they’re sizing me up that they think I’m just the latest flavor of the month for Chase and I won’t be around long. Why bother making friends with me when they’ll have to start all over again when a new girl comes along?

Little do they know, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay.

But once the game starts, I don’t really care that they’re purposely snubbing me. I get too involved in the action. I’ve never had such a great seat at a game before. Even though I’m nervous for Chase, I kind of forget about the flutterings in my stomach for a while. He just looks so normal out there. It’s where I’m used to seeing him, where I got to know him…before I knew him, if that makes sense.

“C’mon, Landry. One more strike. Get this guy.”

I’m talking to myself and I don’t even realize it. It must be a habit I picked up from watching the games alone in my trailer. I’m so used to talking out loud to my dad that I never stopped, believing he could hear me somehow.

“Pedro, don’t you dare call for the curve. I don’t care what the bench is telling you. Have Landry blow some heat by him.”

But Pedro doesn’t listen, because Landry loops a hanging curve over the plate and the batter sits back on his heel and waits. But he doesn’t get enough of it, getting jammed inside. He hits a dribbler toward the infield, but Chase is on it. The runner on first is charging, but Chase takes his time, making the catch before gliding over to the bag and throwing the ball to Scott Harper at first, completing the double play to get out of the inning.

But the runner is a rookie from Cleveland with a chance to take out Chase Whitfield and make a name for himself. He’s not going to give up the opportunity. Turning on the jets, he slides into second, spikes first, causing Chase to have to jump over him to avoid being knocked off his feet.

The crowd issues a collective gasp, and my heart stops beating.

All of that hard work, months and months of hitting the gym, enduring physical therapy, staying off his feet, traveling to New York for doctor’s appointments, undergoing countless tests, applying my grandmother’s ointment to his knee every night— please God, don’t let it all be for nothing.

Chase stumbles a bit, staggering to regain his balance. He’s strengthened the muscles in his legs through intensive conditioning. They shouldn’t be giving him any trouble. They should withstand his weight. But if he twisted his knee, that’s another story. If he injured it again, there’s no telling what could happen.

My eyes are glued on his knee as he walks around the base, trying to shake it off. The trainer comes running onto the field, and so does Tony Liotta. This can’t be good. They’re obviously worried. I hope they’re just being overprotective and didn’t see something from the bench. But Chase doesn’t appear to be limping. The trainer is making him bend his knee, getting him to work out any tension.

The other Kings players converge around Chase in a huddle, blocking him from view. Even though the game isn’t being televised, there are still a lot of media around covering Chase’s return. His teammates don’t know what’s going on, but if Chase is hurt, they’re not going to let the cameramen get a good shot of him.

But their camaraderie is preventing me from knowing what’s going on. I clutch the leather strap of my purse, frozen in a position halfway between sitting and standing. How could that stupid kid take such a cheap shot at one of the most respected players in the game? What the hell is wrong with him? It’s just an exhibition game. It doesn’t count in the standings. There’s no reason he has to play dirty like that. I hope Cleveland’s manager gives him a good tongue lashing in the locker room after this. That’s not the way to play the game.

Tony Liotta starts ushering the Kings players off the field even though they’re reluctant to leave Chase out there. The umpires are striding over to break it up. They have to continue on with the game. Chase is due up to hit second. They need to know if Tony’s going to pull him or if he’s still going to bat.

I can tell Tony’s stalling for time. He’s a veteran manager and a former player. He knows the umpires are calling the shots, but he’s not going to rush his star shortstop off the field until he’s ready. As Chase starts to walk back toward the dugout, the crowd begins to cheer. No one wants to see him taken out of the game, but it’d probably be the prudent thing to do, taking the necessary precautions instead of risking reinjury.

But the applause grows louder when Chase grabs his bat and heads immediately into the on-deck circle. I know he’s a fierce competitor, but I hope he didn’t talk Tony out of anything. He needs to take it easy. It’s only February, and they have one hundred and sixty-two games to go. He needs to pace himself if he’s going to make it through the regular season.

Ever since the Kings got booted out of the first round of the playoffs, Chase went on a tear, pushing his body to the limit. I know he blamed himself for not being there to help his team advance. But Drake had a lousy series and basically contributed nothing offensively. If anyone let the team down, it was Drake, not Chase. But Chase doesn’t see it that way. He took full responsibility for the early end to the Kings season, vowing to get healthy and win it all again this year.

There’s no one more driven or determined than Chase when he feels like he has something to prove. And even though he was off his feet, he did everything possible to keep the rest of his body in shape. He even brought weights from the Beavers workout facility back to the trailer with him, lifting to strengthen his upper body while I was usually in bed reading a book. In fact, he became a bit fanatical about it.

***

One afternoon in October, I came back from visiting my mom and couldn’t find Chase anywhere. I called his phone, but he wasn’t picking up. I knew he wouldn’t have blown me off, considering what fragile condition my mom was in. So I knew something was up.

It was an unseasonably mild day for that time of year, with temperatures reaching into the seventies. We had some rain the night before and the ground around the trailer was still muddy. So I was able to see his solitary footprint with its accompanying crutch marks heading into the woods.

Following his trail, I had no idea why he had decided to go for a walk in such a dense part of the forest. The path was covered with rain-soaked leaves, and he could have easily fallen. Yeah, it was a nice day and maybe he needed some air, but did he have to go so far away from the trailer and not leave a note to tell me where he was going? It was a little reckless, and his total disregard made me angry. I had enough going on with my mom. I didn’t need him to end up in the hospital too.

As I drew closer to the perimeter of the lake, I heard a splash. I shut my eyes and counted to ten.
Don’t tell me he is stupid enough to try and swim in that freezing cold water?
Sure, the day was warm, but the nights had been cold. There’s no way the water temperature was anywhere close to hospitable. He’d have hypothermia by the time he came out. Or worse, he’d cramp up and drown out there.

I hurried forward, pushing the scattered limbs out of my way, unable to see through the trees. And there he was, swimming laps in that frigid water, using it as his own personal swimming pool.

“Chase Whitfield, you get out of there this instant!” I yelled, but he didn’t hear me with his head half submerged.

His shirt and jeans were neatly folded on top of his sneakers, giving me a flashback to the night he’d first slept over. Even then, he had put himself in my hands, allowed me to take care of him. But I was still livid with him for doing this.

I tapped my foot, waiting for him to resurface closer to shore. When he caught sight of me, he made a sprint toward the finish line, lengthening his stroke. No doubt he was trying to impress me—and it worked. Seeing his broad shoulders cut across the surface of the water had me a little weak in the knees, but I still intended to give him a piece of mind.

Looking around for his crutches, I saw them leaning against a nearby tree. Grabbing them, I hustled over to the water’s edge as Chase strode toward me dripping wet, a huge smile on his face even though he was shivering.

“Grey, did you see—?”

“What kind of idiotic stunt was that, huh?”

He hadn’t even brought a towel, so I had nothing to dry him off with. His smile faltered when he realized how upset I was. He accepted the crutches from my outstretched hands, and I was distracted by the way the sunlight was glistening off the droplets of water clinging to his chest.