chapter 23
MEET ME BESIDE the Liberty Bell at three. I’ve got a problem with Devon I have to handle first.
Taylor was still thinking about the implications of Ryan’s text as she headed down 6th Street, past Independence Hall and on toward the glass pavilion that housed the Liberty Bell. She’d summoned up her courage and called him within a minute of leaving Dembinski’s office, but it had gone straight to voice mail. Her slightly stiff message had suggested meeting at a coffee shop not far from the ballpark. An hour later, Ryan had shot back his text, all but ordering her to meet him at Independence Mall instead.
As her heels clicked over the stone walkway across from the red brick, classically beautiful Independence Hall, she spotted Ryan leaning against one of the concrete columns of the Liberty Bell pavilion, all slouching, masculine beauty. He wore a red and blue checked work shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and snug, low-riding jeans. He truly looked yummy enough to eat.
But Taylor’s breath caught in her throat, and not in a good way, as he lifted a hand to raise his sunglasses. Even from forty feet away, his eyes spoke of bone-deep exhaustion and his mouth was set in a grim line.
Crap.
Something very bad must be going on with Devon, and now she had to give him even more distressing news. She very nearly lost her resolve before one word had even been exchanged. But delaying the conversation wasn’t going to make it any easier for Ryan to take, and would only land her in more trouble with Dembinski.
As she approached, Ryan’s gaze flicked over her in rapid assessment. He’d never seen her in this severe suit before, and he probably thought she looked like a stuffy lawyer or insurance executive. Still, she thought she caught a brief glimpse of appreciation in his eyes, and that gave a little lift to her spirits.
“You look good in black,” he said in a gruff voice as she stopped in front of him.
It seemed so weird and awful not to touch him. No kiss, not even a handshake. Nothing seemed appropriate given the circumstances, so Taylor instinctively shifted her bag from one shoulder to the other, just to be doing something. She dredged up a smile even though her stomach churned. “This seemed right for the meeting I had with the boss this morning.”
Funereal black, in other words.
He cocked an eyebrow.
“Do you want to get some coffee?” she said nervously. “There’s a Starbucks a few blocks from here on Chestnut.”
Ryan shook his head. “No, let’s just walk.” Without waiting for her agreement, he moved away from the pavilion, heading back the way she’d just come.
Maybe he was gravitating toward his apartment, since it was only a few blocks south of here. Taylor fell in beside him, treading carefully as they crossed the cobblestones to the other side of 6th Street. Ryan’s hand came up to touch her elbow as if to guide her—barely there, but with the instinctive courtesy she’d come to expect from him.
The hot sun was pounding down, so when they moved into the partial shadow afforded by the historic Curtis Building, Taylor breathed a sigh of relief. Between her nerves and the warm spring day, she felt like she was in a sauna.
“What’s going on with Devon?” she asked.
Ryan’s hand dropped to his side as he let out a frustrated sigh. “She was cryptic, but there was obviously some kind of altercation yesterday with those girls that were bullying her. There’s going to be a disciplinary hearing next week.” The fingers of his left hand unconsciously clenched into a fist. “The school told me today that it was allegedly an unprovoked attack, and resulted in what they called minor injuries.”
“Hardly sounds unprovoked, from what you’ve told me,” Taylor said. Still, no matter how provoked Devon had been, committing any kind of violence in a school setting would be dealt with severely.
“That’s what I told the administrator. But she just said that Devon would be given ample opportunity to state her case at the disciplinary hearing.” He snorted. “That was after she told me that this type of offence could result in expulsion.”
“I’m so sorry, Ryan,” Taylor said, briefly touching his bare forearm in sympathy. Just that glancing touch sent tingles shivering across her skin.
It never seemed to matter what was going on between them, her physical reaction to him was always the same—needy and wanting. “Will you be going to the hearing? I’m sure the team will give you leave under the circumstances.”
“Sure, especially since I’m probably still going to be riding the bench next week.” He gave a bitter laugh. “But maybe there won’t even be a hearing. Devon threw down an ultimatum when she called this morning.”
“She wants to quit?”
He nodded as they stopped for the traffic light at Walnut. “That hasn’t changed. But now she says she’s going to come here immediately. If I say she can’t, she’ll hop a train to New York and get lost in the city. Can you believe that? She’s fourteen years old, for God’s sake.”
What a nightmare. “What did you say to that?”
“That I needed time to think.” They began walking again. After they crossed Walnut, Ryan eased them into Washington Square. The leaves of the tall, wide-spreading trees were fully out thanks to the unseasonably mild weather of March and early April, giving them some dappled shade.
“You think she`s bluffing, Ryan?” she asked, her heart in her throat. God, if it were her kid, she’d have her home in a hot minute. Taylor would never want to take the chance.
He shrugged, still not looking at her as they meandered onto the diagonal path across the park. “What I can’t get past is that she’s so hell bent to run away from the consequences of her actions. That’s not the way I brought her up, and it’s a bad way to start out in life. Is it wrong that I want her to learn that? That she can’t just cut and run when things don’t go her way?”
Suddenly, he stopped, as if just noticing where they’d ended up. There were only a handful of people around, the park a surprising oasis of peace in the rush of the city. “Look, you asked to meet, so it’s time you told me what that’s all about. I appreciate your interest in Devon, but I’ll handle that.”
Taylor barely stopped herself from flinching at the coolly spoken rejection. It almost felt like she was talking to a different person from the Ryan Locke she’d come to know over the past few weeks. He was obviously still smarting from what she’d said to him at the restaurant, and now she was going to have to drive the same points home again—only this time with much more powerful force, and with the full weight of the Patriots organization behind her.
Never had the dangers of having a relationship with a player come so sharply—and so painfully—into focus. Maybe she should have a team cap made up with a big “M” on it for Management.
The park suddenly felt like such an awkward and exposed place to have this conversation. Staring up at Ryan’s hard-cut jaw, Taylor cleared her throat twice before she managed to grind out the words Dembinski had commanded her to say.
“I’m afraid I have to continue the conversation we started the night before last,” she said, forcing herself to meet his unyielding gaze with an implacable one of her own. “The part where I suggested you see Dr. Farley in New York.”
Ryan’s head jerked back. “I thought I was clear on that score.”
“You certainly were. But at that time I was suggesting you see the doctor. Today, it’s no longer a suggestion, Ryan. It’s an order, and it isn’t coming from me—it’s coming from the very top.”
She sounded officious and cold and she hated herself for it.
Obviously pole-axed by her words, he half-turned away from her, cursing under his breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said, letting a pleading note creep into her voice. “Dembinski was going to shuffle you off to the team shrink, and I knew there was absolutely no point to that. I recommended that you see Farley and he finally went along with it. I hope you’ll come to think I did the right thing, because it’s really the only way forward, Ryan. The problem’s going to get worse if you don’t do this. You must know that.”
When she reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, he shrugged it off. That little gesture made her heart plunge to her heels.
Ryan stared straight ahead of him, looking as grim as death. “Yeah, well, doesn’t Dembinski even have the stones to face me man-to-man and tell me himself? Did he volunteer you for the dirty job, or did you offer?”
Resentment flared, and Taylor shot him a look that she suspected would flash-freeze a blowtorch. Yes, he was hurting, but could he really not see how difficult this was for her, too?
Ryan grimaced, obviously receiving her unspoken message. “Okay, I get it. Not that it matters. Either way, I’m not doing it, and you damn well know why.”
“Ryan, stop it,” she said sharply, grabbing him by the arm. “It’s not like we’re trying to check you into a mental institution. I don’t understand why you refuse to do something as simple as consulting a specialist who could actually help you with this problem. You’re not making any sense and you’re just hurting yourself by being so stubborn.”
His dark gaze churned with emotional turbulence. “Like I told you, Taylor, if that rep gets stuck on me—that I’m some kind of head case—my career is done, and so is my reputation. Even if I start throwing better, I’ll never be able to shake off that label. Never.”
Taylor threw up her hands, as frustrated as she’d ever been in her life. “It’s not like we’re going to send out a press release, Ryan. We’ll do our best to keep it confidential. But, in any case, you’d rather defy the team and bear the consequences? You can’t be that blissfully confident. I know you’re not.”
She thought every muscle in Ryan’s body seemed to tense at once, as in fight or flight mode.
“You have to do it,” she said quickly before he could lash out. “Your career might be effectively over right now if you don’t.”
With a low, pained growl, he looked up into the achingly clear blue sky, as if seeking divine guidance before locking his gaze on hers once again. “Jesus, Taylor, can you just take off your management hat for a minute and try to think about how I feel? How I feel about those brilliant ideas of yours that got me into this mess in the first place?”
“Actually, I think my management hat’s been off a hell of a lot of the time we’ve been together. Along with the rest of my clothes, if you’ll recall,” she responded, not bothering to conceal her hurt.
That seemed to stop him in his tracks, because they simply stared at each other for at least ten long seconds.
“Look,” he said, lowering his voice, “you were the one who concocted the damn trade. You forced me here, when I wanted to go to an American League team. And now you’ve convinced Dembinski to make me see somebody to supposedly straighten out my head, or else.” He shook his head, looking baffled and frustrated. “So, yeah, it always seems to come back to you, Taylor. You’re always calling the shots. It’s my career and my life, but it feels like you’ve taken over. At least if I let you have your way.”
She thought about that, and how difficult it must be for someone like him—so used to dealing with everything on his own—to cede control to someone else. “I understand, Ryan. I truly do. But is this supposed to be some kind of contest of wills now? I want to help you, not hurt you. And I thought we were after the same thing—making sure Ryan Locke remains a productive player who can help the Patriots win the World Series.”
“Yeah, of course we are.” When he grasped her by the shoulders and stared hard into her eyes, she thought both her knees and her resolve might start to weaken. “But why can’t you trust me to know what’s best for me? Why did you have to interfere by running to Dembinski?”
Taylor refused to flinch. “You know why.”
“Because the team is all you care about,” he said. It killed her to see the same pain of rejection in his eyes that she had felt only moments ago.
“Not all, no. Not by a long shot,” she said firmly. “You should have figured out by now how much I care about you.”
He blew out a weary breath, turning away from her. “What happens if I say no to your order? Dembinski calls me in and pulls out the heavy artillery, right?”
Taylor didn’t want to have to answer that, but it seemed he was giving her no choice. “I don’t know for sure, but I can make an educated guess as to what will happen if I report back that you’ve categorically refused to get help.”
“So, guess, then. What’s he going to do? Try to send me to the minors?”
“Actually, Ryan, I think he’ll cut you loose,” she said, not pulling her punches. He needed to hear it in stark terms. “He’s already ordered me to analyze possible trades for a replacement. That seems to be the backup plan if the Dr. Farley idea doesn’t work out.”
Despite his deep tan, Ryan’s face paled. “You’re serious?”
“I’m afraid so. We’re expected to be a championship contender again this season. You know we can’t screw around and just hope things will get better.”
She could see that he well understood the implications of being released by the Patriots. While the team would have to pay out the rest of his contract, the chances of him getting picked up by another team—even an AL squad—were minimal. Not with his throwing problems, and not after the Patriots abruptly gave up on him. What team would take that kind of risk? At this point, the best he could expect might be an offer for a minor league contract.
“Jesus, I’ve got to deal with Devon and now this, too? Perfect,” he said, sounding completely overwhelmed. The pain in his voice made her throat close up with tears.
But what could she say? If she didn’t believe she was doing the right thing for both the team and Ryan, she hoped she’d have had the courage to fight Dembinski on his behalf. But she was doing the right thing, as hard as it was for Ryan to accept. She ached to wrap her arms around him and somehow try to comfort him, but knew that would only result in another painful, embarrassing rejection as he pushed her away.
“I’m so, so sorry,” she forced out in a choked voice. “If there’s anything I can do to help with Devon. I mean anything...”
As Ryan searched her eyes, no doubt seeing the emotion so obviously written in them, his expression lost some of its bitterness. In fact, his eyes seemed now to reflect more sadness than anger.
“I appreciate that,” he said. “But, look, I’m a little overwhelmed right now. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. About anything.”
Taylor reached a hand out to grasp his sinewy forearm, letting her fingers settle on his hot skin. “Whatever you need, just ask. I mean that.”
Ryan nodded, but then turned and strode away, leaving Taylor as frozen as the statue of George Washington behind her.