I covered her hand with mine. “For being such a shitty friend these past few months. I’ve been bitchy and selfish, whining about my problems and not even asking about you.”
She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Now, you’re just being silly. You were dealing with serious stuff. The loss of your first and only love. Trying to spread your wings and see what else the world had to offer. Boinking new guys while dealing with Calvin turning into Hugh Heffner. Ouch…” she laughed when I punched her in the arm. “I get it. That’s heavy, life-altering stuff. I’m good. I’m having fun with someone I know isn’t interested in settling down, so I don’t have that ‘will we or won’t we’ pressure. As fucked up as it probably looks on the outside, it works for me right now.”
“And you really are having fun?” I asked her. “Seriously?”
Her smile was wide. “Yes. Ace is a blast and in bed…” she rolled her eyes heavenwards and exhaled a long, drawn out breath. “But he’s really sweet too, and he loves my cupcakes.”
I laughed and batted my eyelashes at her. “Which cupcakes are you speaking of?”
She elbowed me, then opened her door. “All of them, of course.”
We linked arms and walked into the stadium, the past few stressful months fading away as I laughed with my best friend. I told her about going house hunting and furniture shopping, how I wanted to create a real home with Cal.
“How about I stay a few extra days while the guys are on the road, and I’ll go with you?”
I squeezed her tighter to me. “That sounds perfect.”
When we got to our seats, the Beasts were just taking the field, and I got to watch #10 run to the mound. God, his ass looked good in those pants. He looked up, and our eyes met, a big grin spreading on his face. I blew him a kiss, and he winked at me as Holly went on and on about picking out paint colors.
All was right in the world.
The game began, and I couldn’t have been more proud of my man as he blew through batters like a tornado through a house of cards. I cheered and yelled, practicing my whistle. I was damned and determined to learn how to whistle someday.
Whenever Calvin had a bad moment, I noticed him looking at me, as if I was his source of salvation. I’d just smile bigger and give him a thumbs up, or blow another kiss. It felt good knowing I was doing something to lift his spirits.
When Todd Morris took the plate, the atmosphere in the stadium seemed to change. The look on Calvin’s face definitely did, and I groaned. I still felt terrible about breaking Todd’s heart, but I’d warned him in the beginning that I wasn’t emotionally available.
“Do you miss him?” Holly asked, pointing at Todd.
I yanked her finger back, giving her a what the hell are you doing look.
She laughed. “He sure was pissed when you left with Calvin.”
I blew out a breath. “I know. I hate that I hurt him.”
She just gave my hand a squeeze.
I looked back at the field, watched Cal wind up and throw. Strike one. I stood up and cheered, then sat down when Todd looked back at me, hurt in his eyes.
Another wind-up and Todd swung, missing by a mile. The crowd roared all around me.
“One more, Calvin!” I breathed, trying to whistle again, but ended up spitting all over my hands.
Wind up. Pitch. Strike three! But Todd didn’t move away from the plate. I held my breath, wondering if he was going to go after Cal. Long moments passed at the two men just glared at each other.
When the fans began to boo, Todd turned and looked up at me. I swallowed hard and squeezed Holly’s fingers.
Her elbow jabbed into my arm. “Well, if things don’t work out with Calvin, I’m sure he’ll take you back.”
I elbowed her back. “Oh, shut up.”
Determined to shake off the odd encounter, I cheered the Beasts on. When it was Todd’s turn at bat again, an odd shiver ran up my spine, and I found myself holding my breath, clutching onto Holly’s hand.
“What’s wrong?” she whisper-yelled, gripping my hand back.
I laughed and let her go. “Nothing. I’m just being silly.”
Calvin nodded to the catcher, then wound up. Todd swung and missed. The crowd roared its approval. Another wind-up. Another perfect pitch. Another strike, and I began to relax. Calvin had this.
My hands ended up in a prayer position, my fingers in front of my lips when Cal let go of that third ball.
Crack!
Before I even had a chance to gasp, the ball went flying straight back at Calvin, who turned and stuck out his glove in what must have been some automatic response. The sound of the ball hitting his palm through the leather caused the crowd to groan in sympathy pain then cry out when the ball rebounded straight up in the air.
I was on my feet as Cal dove to catch it, my hands covering my mouth, screaming “Get it!” through my fingers. The crowd went crazy when the ball landed safely in Calvin’s glove. But I wasn’t cheering. I’d seen his face, the flash of pain before he rolled onto his back.
And just lay there.
Oh no. No. No. No.
He didn’t move, and the crowd grew quiet as coaches and trainers rushed out onto the field, circling around him. Oh no. They were checking his left shoulder.
Holly was right behind me as I started running for the steps.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Calvin
Sitting in the training room waiting for the team doctor to give me his assessment was one of the most agonizing times of my life. The pain had dulled to a steady throb, but that was because I was afraid to move my shoulder. Afraid that this could kill my season. Hell, kill my career.
At least I got Morris out.
Unfortunately, that thought didn’t help.
There was no winner or loser in this.
My entire life, I played knowing that one instant could rob me of the career I’d worked my ass off to attain. When I was in high school, people tried to convince me to go into the minors and skip college, not because I was ready for the minors back then, but because my risk of injury during those four college years was too great, and I’d never get the chance to go further, never get that taste of fame.
Shoulder. Elbow. Hell, a blister on my hand could keep me out for weeks. Tendinitis, a condition most people lived with just fine, could end everything. So could this ache in my shoulder. Whatever it was.
“Hey, baby.”
I looked up, relieved to hear Whitney’s sweet voice. The trainers motioned for her to enter, then walked out, giving us some privacy.
“Hey.”
Her eyes searched my face, her fingers curling in mine. “Any news?”
I shook my head. “The team doc is still reviewing the MRI results at the diagnostic center. He’ll be here shortly to… to…” I shook my head, unable to finish the sentence.
I didn’t have to. Whit knew. She kissed my cheek. “It will be okay, no matter what.”
Pulling her until she was standing between my legs, I lifted a hand, touching her soft cheek. “Do you want to go home?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Home? What do you mean?”
I blew out a breath. “Do you want to leave New York? Leave baseball. Start over somewhere fresh.”