Playing Catch: A Baseball Romance (24 page)

“I don’t feel so good.” Jeanine sank to the bed. “Did he say what her name was? The mother?”

A chilling sensation spread over Kirk’s body as he realized this was the first time Jeanine was hearing about her mother.

“He didn’t say.” He leaned onto the bed and rubbed Jeanine’s back. “But don’t jump to conclusions yet. He said he’d do a DNA test to convince you.”

“I know someone who got shot in the lung. The woman who practices karate and judo with me. She’s always trying to get close to me. Except she’s not old enough to be my mother.”

“Then it’s a coincidence.” Kirk felt more confident now that she was talking to him again.

“Unless she had me when she was very young.” Her eyes grew round as saucers as the horror dawned on her. “What if it’s not a coincidence? But then, why didn’t she say anything?”

“Because she feels guilty, or she’s afraid you’d hate her?”

Jeanine’s face hardened and she pressed her lips into a line, seething. “She left me with a monster. If she knew how bad Simpson was, why did she leave me with him?”

“Maybe she was very young, or maybe she thought Simpson was a god. Maybe she was a baseball groupie. I don’t know.” Kirk leaned toward her to comfort her.

“Stay back.” She jumped off the bed, took off the jacket and shoved it in his hands. “All this talk about my supposed family isn’t going to make me trust you again. It’s none of your business. You can leave now.”

“No, I won’t.” He dropped the jacket on the bed and moved quickly so he was out of reach of her roundhouse kick. “I’m not playing games, Jeanine. I’m not catching fast balls or curve balls or even pop flies. I want you in my life.”

“You walked out on me. You left me at my worst moment.”

“I know I did, and I’m sorry. I’m not going anywhere, now. I promised you I’d stick with you through all of this. I had a lapse and I regretted it almost immediately.”

She twisted her lips, seeming to consider. Her face softened a tiny bit. “You didn’t trust me. You thought I used you. That I only cared about George.”

“No. I was jealous.” His voice sounded strangled. “I couldn’t help it.”

“How could you be jealous of a monster who manipulated me? He taught me all the wrong things, and made me say those words to him. If I failed, he’d hit me until I said it. Words that mean nothing, Kirk. Words I would never say to someone I really love.”

“I fucked up. I know that now, and I should never have walked away from you. Please, forgive me.” He wanted to touch her, to hold her close, but with the way she was poised, ready to twist his arm or break a bone, he stayed back.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” She glared at him, so beautiful, yet so stony and distant. “You were right to walk away. You see? I’ve turned into a monster. The abused has become the abuser. I raped you, Kirk. I used your body. I don’t have any feelings.”

“Don’t say that, J. You do have feelings. Beautiful feelings. You’re lovely and good. You didn’t abuse me. You were confused and you needed me to love you.”

“But I can never love you, Kirk.” Jeanine wiped her face as if in horror, her mouth gaping like she was in pain. “I’m George Simpson’s daughter. I’m entirely and completely fucked up and you should run away now. Run as fast and as far as you can.”

A sucking black hole opened up in Kirk’s heart. “You’re his daughter?”

A tear trickled from the corner of her eye as she nodded. “I remember him pulling my panties down when I was four. I remember the policewoman and her badge. I remember his ice blue eyes, clear, gray and soulless—a monster.”

“It’s okay, J. I’m here. It’s okay.” He tugged her into his arms, no longer able to hold back the torrent of feelings overwhelming him. “I don’t care if you’re his daughter. I love you anyway.”

“You can’t.” She shuddered and took in a wet sobbing breath. “I’m too ruined for anyone to love. You’re just saying it to make me feel better.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true.” He molded her to his body, covering her with kisses, his hands rubbing warmth into her arms and shoulders.

“You don’t know what you’re saying, what you’re doing.”

“I know what you mean to me. I promised you I would never let you go, and I’m keeping my promise.” He wiped the tears flowing down her face and kissed her eyelids. “I love you.”

“You can’t. You don’t trust me. You think I’m in love with my abuser. My father.”

“You had no choice.”

“I have a choice. I went to see him. I told him I hated him, but when I look in the mirror, I see a frail little girl who wanted nothing more than to have her father love her. I did everything I could to get him to love me. Everything he said, and if I’m honest with myself, with you, part of me still loves that man who took me to the amusement park, who showered me with gifts, who taught me how to drive, who showed me how to tie my shoes, throw a ball, clean a gun, and play the trombone.”

“Play the trombone? You?” Kirk lifted her chin and she pursed her lips, blowing out.

“He did all those dad things with me, and I was his favorite. If it hadn’t been for the sex thing and the beatings, I would have had a pretty decent childhood.”

“Oh, sure. Let’s forget that awful sex thing and the beatings. By all means.” Kirk’s entire body tightened with fury and he wanted to throw things. “That man was a fucking monster.”

“He was your baseball coach.” Jeanine shoved him hard. “You told me yourself you admired him. He was a popular teacher. He taught you how to be a catcher, how to read people, how to defend the plate, how to throw out base runners.”

“So? It doesn’t outweigh the bad he’s done.”

“It doesn’t, but that’s why you can’t love me. I’m a part of him, for better or worse. He raised me. He taught me everything I know.”

“You’re more than what he did to you. Just like I’m more than the son of my fucked up parents. They taught me how to lie, cheat, and steal. They entertained themselves over other people’s misery. My mother fucked with my mind, and she made me distrust women. She betrayed me with other men. She dumped me with babysitters so she could screw other guys. I’m fucked up too, because she, too, taught me everything—how to read people, how to charm them, how to make friends and how to negotiate.”

“Then we’re both fucked.” Jeanine rubbed her face and shook her head. “And if we’re together, we’ll have a doubly fucked up family.”

“No, we won’t. We’re recovery warriors. We’ll continue going to therapy, doing the exercises we need to recover, but we won’t let them steal our lives from us. We won’t let them win.”

“I hate what they took from us.” Jeanine touched his face, her lips quivering. “I hate that he stole my innocence. I hate him, but I still love him or at least the concept of a father.”

“I still love my mother, even though I’ll never speak to her again. But mostly, I hate her evil ways, her manipulation and game playing.” Kirk shook his head and inhaled deeply. “I won’t let them win.”

“But they have already. They’ve stolen everything while we were young and vulnerable.”

“No, they haven’t.” He touched her lips with his. “They haven’t taken our ability to love.”

She melted into him, kissing him, touching and weeping. Her tears mingled with his and he was all over her, arms, legs, lips, hearts, skin, and hair.

He leaned with her, dropping to the bed, and turned her onto her back, kissing and caressing her, comforting her. She clung to him, still sobbing, unable to breathe evenly, but her lips moved under his, and even though it was clumsy, and their teeth bumped and their hands fumbled and elbows knocked into ribs, and everything was jerky and uncoordinated, he held her, not too tight, but firmly, anchoring her to him.

His fingers drew circles over her back and his lips tasted and explored every bit of her. The sobs became gasps, and the comforting strokes turned hotter. Clothes loosened and fell piece by piece onto the bed. He hooked a finger under her bra and she squirmed out of it, her mouth never leaving his, alternately kissing and moaning.

Her breasts were smooth and warm, and soon he was kissing them, bringing the supple nipples to tight peaks while his hands traveled south down her toned belly and finding their way between her legs.

He fingered her soft folds, moist and wet, and she moaned, arching herself toward him, biting his lower lip. He unzipped himself, not bothering to loosen his belt and pull down his pants. His cock sprang out, fully loaded and long, despite the residual ache in his balls.

He rubbed the engorged tip at her entrance, wishing he could push himself in, but waiting for her consent.

Her eyes snapped open and she whimpered, her lower lip trembling. “I love you, Kirk. As much as I can, I love you.”

“I love you, too, Jeanine. You are the only woman meant for me to love.” And he was in, sliding home in one long move. She hugged him tight, her slick channel wrapping around his in an embrace of love, of belonging.

For a moment, neither moved as they gazed at each other, awed by the bond, the joining of man and woman, of two tortured souls who’d found each other, loving despite their past, connecting in a special and unique way.

But then, the connection built and they throbbed together, and either she moved first or he did, and it didn’t matter, because it was all one and the same. They moved as one organism, one body, sliding and exchanging friction, pleasure, alternating between fullness and emptiness.

He tried to slow things down, wanting to feel every pulse, every bit of her clamped around him. There was no way he could describe the sensation, the closeness of being inside of her, surrounded by her love, drowning in her essence, but the movement was too delicious, too tantalizing and when she lifted herself and ground her hips, wrapping her long legs around his waist, he could hold back no longer.

Her eyes were wide open, focused on him, letting him know she saw only him, aware of who he was and where she was. She was flat on her back, wide open for him, taking all of him in. She grabbed his hips, her fingers splayed on his ass and urged him to move faster, harder.

His pulse raced and his hips pistoned as her insides pulsed the precursor to her climax. A keening moan tore through her throat and she threw her head back, her eyes rolling in her head as he drove her higher with each deep thrust, stroking and loving her as she exploded. Her contractions kissed him, sucking him in and he came with a fury of hot spurts, each longer and harder than the last, spreading through his body like hot, molten wax.

Her name sailed from his lips, more guttural than literal, and he clung to her. Their breaths matched, hard and heavy, as he turned them both so she lay on top of him, resting her head over his heart.

“We won, Kirk. We won.”

“With love, J. Love always wins.”

J
eanine faced
off against Skye at the citywide Phoenix Martial Arts Tournament held the first week of September. Skye had recovered from her punctured lung and had trained all summer with the intent of beating her.

But Jeanine was no slouch either. She’d worked on weights with Kirk and wrestled with him both on her back and riding on top. His thigh had healed completely, and he was back on the roster to play out the rest of the season.

She bowed to her opponent under the harsh glare of the overhead lights, and gripped the mat with her toes. The referee lowered his hand and the match was on.

Skye circled her with both hands in front, looking for the first take down. Jeanine waited, steady on her feet, and soon enough, Skye lunged, stepping in to execute a hip roll. Jeanine sidestepped it and grabbed Skye’s
gi
, turning her over onto the mat.

Arms and legs tangled as the two women tried to lock and pin. Skye squirmed out of a hold and flattened Jeanine on her back. She moved in for the arm lock, but Jeanine hooked a heel around Skye’s waist and twisted her arm between her legs, locking her and scoring a point.

“Not bad,” Skye said as she pulled her up. “Bet Kirk had something to do with that.”

“Not saying a word.” Jeanine smiled as they squared off against each other.

Of course, Skye was right. Having Kirk had made all the difference in her life. She was no longer a mental and emotional wreck. She no longer needed to be on top or always in control, but relished the dance between lovers, ebbing and flowing from top to bottom, side by side, dominating and submitting, yin and yang, ever flowing and ever adapting.

She was slippery and fluid, and Skye couldn’t pin her, couldn’t take advantage of her stiffness, of her fear or anxiety. Neither could the other women in the tournament.

After several matches, Jeanine was declared the all-city winner in Women’s Judo, much to the delight and cheers of the home crowd. She received her trophy and shook hands with her opponents. Then, she returned to the grandstand where Kirk, Marcia, Brock, and Bianca were sitting.

“Booyakasha!” Bianca jumped up and hugged her. “Auntie J, you have to teach me how to fight.”

“I will, sweetheart.” She scooped her little protégé into her arms and kissed her. “You won your division, too. Let’s take a picture with our trophies.”

Every camera turned to them, and soon, she was cheesing it up with not only Bianca, but Skye and Tyson, who had won the heavyweight division in mixed martial arts fighting.

“You make me proud,” Skye said to Jeanine. “So very proud. Now that you beat me, will you call me Mom?”

Jeanine returned her hug. “I guess you earned it, letting me win. Isn’t that what Moms do? Let their kids win?”

“No, not this one.” Skye tugged her hair and kissed her. “You won because you earned it. You did it all without me. Thank you for letting me into your life.”

It hadn’t been all roses and flowers, and Jeanine had had a hard time accepting Skye, whose real name was Janine Jewell. She had been a member of a wealthy family, but had met an older man, George Simpson, gotten into trouble, and given birth at age fifteen. Her family had disowned her when she ran away with Simpson, but after a few months, he dumped her at a seedy hotel, and she ended up turning tricks to survive.

The next time she saw Simpson, he told her he’d given up their daughter for adoption to a wealthy couple, and being that she was still a hooker, she didn’t have the heart to find Jeanine and ruin her supposedly charmed life.

A few years ago, when Tyson got his private investigator license, she couldn’t help but ask him to track Jeanine down. Tyson visited Simpson in jail to get more information on the couple that was supposed to have adopted Jeanine, only to find out that Simpson had kept and abused her instead.

Skye then moved to Phoenix and watched Jeanine from a distance before becoming brave enough to join the same Martial Arts studio. Even then, she hadn’t dared to introduce herself to Jeanine as her mother, knowing how much she was to blame for Jeanine’s suffering at the hands of her father.

Once Simpson was released from jail, Skye asked Tyson to protect his sister. She was shot by Simpson, delaying him long enough for Kirk to fortuitously appear at Marcia’s house. Not that it meant Jeanine should forgive her, but in the end, she did, because forgiving meant healing, and healing meant love and a chance for a family of her own.

“Let’s have a big, Jewell group hug,” Tyson said, wrapping his arms around both Jeanine and Skye.

“Hey, how about a Kennedy hug?” Kirk’s brother, Matt, yelled. “Over here.”

He opened his arms wide and clamped Jeanine tightly. “You
are
going to be a Kennedy, aren’t you?”

“Uh, really?” She stepped back and shot Kirk a sideways glare. “Is something going on that I don’t know about?”

“Ooops!” Matt bounced on his heels. “Never mind.”

Jeanine’s eyes remained narrowed, skewering Kirk as he handed his camera to his brother.

“What’s everyone staring at me for?” He walked toward Jeanine. “Watch my hands, J.”

She opened her mouth to say something snarky, but he flipped a small object into the air.

“Catch.”

Jeanine looked up in time to spot the black velvet box arc toward her. She cupped her hands and caught it, almost bobbling it as Kirk dropped to one knee.

Every eye turned their direction, along with a host of cameras as Kirk took Jeanine’s hand and opened the ring box. A sparkling white diamond glittered under the gymnasium lights.

“Jeanine Jewell. I won big when I won your heart. You are the most impressive woman I’ve ever met, and I love you more than I can express. Marry me and be the best catch of my life.”

Every emotion bubbled up to the surface as warmth and joy flooded her. Kirk was her dream man, her rescuer, and her bosom buddy all rolled into one hunkalicious package.

“I will, Kirk Kennedy, and I will never, ever release you.” Jeanine accepted the ring and kissed him, hook, line, and sinker.

I
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