Текст книги "Third Base"

Автор книги: Heidi McLaughlin

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

I let out a loud snore after Shea pats me on the cheeks. She laughs and I can no longer pretend to be sleeping. Rolling over, I grab ahold of her and start tickling her sides. Her laughter is the best medicine and worth being woken up for. My niece is wearing a Boston Renegades shirt and even without rolling her over I know it says Davenport on the back along with my number.

Last night, even as we carried on with kitchen planning, the excitement from my mom and Shana’s voices didn’t wake Shea. I know it was for the best, but I miss her and want to spend as much time as possible with her. My saving grace is that I’ll be flying back by myself since we have an off day after we finish this series with the Mariners. When we do this, we run the risk of flights being delayed, but it’s worth it. I need time with my family.

“Hi, Unc,” she says, as she sits back on her knees. Shea’s tooth-filled smile is beaming and her baby blue eyes sparkle. I pull to her me and kiss her cheek, pretending to eat her ear. “Nooooo, monser,” she screams while laughing and tries to push me away.

My door opens and Shea scrambles under my blankets to hide from my mom. “Have you seen Shea,” she asks as she sits on the edge of my bed.

I shake my head. “Nope, last time I saw her she was sleeping on the couch.”

My mom sighs dramatically and Shea snuggles into my side. “Well, I just don’t know what I’m going to do Ethan. I wanted to take Shea to the park today and thought we could stop and get some ice cream, but if she’s lost –”

“Here I is!” she yells as she throws the covers up and away from her. My mom jumps in surprise and covers her mouth, causing Shea to laugh. Her blonde hair is a mess, and she has to use two hands to push it out of her face.

“Oh my goodness, Grammie thought she lost you.” My mom pretends to pout, and that clearly upsets Shea. Without hesitation, she’s crawling into my mom’s arms, patting her face and saying, “no, no, no, Grammie.” I think Shea is one of the best things that has happened to us, which is saying a lot because we have a great family.

“What time do you have to be at the field?”

I don’t know why, but I look at the clock that has always sat on my nightstand. Even today, my room is the same with my dark blue walls, oak desk and shelves that hold all of my trophies. The last time I was home I offered to clean it out, box up my stuff and put it in the garage, but my parents said no. They said this would always be my room. Shana’s was the same too, until she had Shea, and then it quickly became a nursery.

“No later than three,” I say as I sit up, my comforter falling away and exposing my chest. Shea laughs and says to my mom loudly, “Unc nakie.”

“Yes he is. Maybe we should leave so Unc can get dressed.” My mom picks up Shea, much to Shea’s displeasure. She screams, piercing our eardrums and reaches for me. My mom’s a pro though and doesn’t let Shea’s little tantrum bother her.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” I tell them both. As soon as my mom closes my door, I’m reaching for my phone. I know I shouldn’t care if she’s texted, but I do. When I press the home screen, it’s only Sarah’s name that displays. She’ll be at the game tonight, sitting behind home plate with my parents, Shana and Shea. And after the game I’ll be going to her place for an adult style sleepover where neither of us has to get up and go home in the middle of the night or worry about a three-year old barging in once the sun is up.

I shower quickly before dressing and heading downstairs for breakfast. Shea is sitting at the table, in her booster seat, picking at her pancakes. Her hair, while still messy, is now sticking to the side of her face with syrup. I sit down next to her, but far enough away that her hands can’t touch me, and dish up a plate of food. Aside from the pancakes, there are eggs, bacon, and hash browns, which on the West Coast are shoe string potatoes cooked together. This is how I prefer my hash browns. Not like how they’re cooked in New England.

My mom doesn’t always cook like this either, and right now I’m very grateful. There’s nothing better than starting your day off right with a home cooked breakfast.

“How’s your friend?” my mom asks, as she sits down at the table with a cup of coffee. She sips it cautiously before setting her mug down on the table. I set my fork down and swallow what I have in my mouth.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Things are difficult, I guess.”

“What do you mean, you guess?”

I pour myself some orange juice and down my glass before refilling it. “I got mad at her last week for reading one of the blogs that’s always posting gossip and rumors. Early on, when she and I started talking, she mentioned some of the rumors and I was defensive.”

“Rightly so,” my mom throws in for good measure.

“Stone has me taking a media class, which is more like a chapter in their textbook because I only have to do it for two weeks, but it’s on the same campus where she attends school. I thought I’d surprise her on the first day and when I got to her computer station, she was reading the blog. When I asked her about it later, she became defensive, saying journalists stick together and started going on about freedom of speech.”

“Is that what she’s studying?”

“Yeah.”

“So she chose to follow the path that many journalists have carved out. They’re all about protecting their sources, their voice, and their rights to freedom of speech.”

I lean back in the chair and fiddle with my fork. “I’m all for freedom of speech, but when it’s lies to sell your product, in this case a high traffic blog that reports crap, I can’t support that. I’ve told her as much too.”

My mom rests her hands together on the table, but doesn’t say anything. Even as I tell the story, I’m not sure it makes any sense. Everything that went down didn’t need to. I think about calling her, but I’m not sure I have anything to say right now. Once this road trip is over, I’ll see her and can honestly say I don’t know if I’ll talk to her. Those thoughts actually hurt. It also hurts that she hasn’t reached out to me to apologize. Hell, maybe I’m the one who needs to grovel.

“I think it was a fair request.”

“I thought so.”

“You like her though?”

I nod and pick my fork up. I hate to admit that I like Daisy, but the truth is I do. I could see myself with her in the future. None of that matters now though.

“Maybe she’ll come around,” mom says as she stands and starts clearing the table.

“Maybe I’ll hit for the cycle.”

My mom laughs, but I don’t find that funny. “Stranger things have happened, Ethan. Sometimes you just have to put all your eggs in the basket and pray you don’t drop it.”

“Well, if I do that I may not have any eggs left. Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” I look at her questioningly, willing her to hit me with a witty comeback.

“When you stand at the plate, what are you doing?”

I scratch my head, pondering her question. “Batting?” I say with hesitation.

“Taking a risk,” she says. “You don’t know if you’re going to walk, get a hit, foul out, or get hit by a pitch, but you stand there, repeatedly, over and over again. Sometimes the risks are worth it.”

Mom stands and starts cleaning off the table. When she reaches for my plate I put my hand down on her wrist and shake my head no. I’m not done eating. I refuse to let her risk her life by stealing my food.

“In coming,” I yell, giving the guys ample time to cover up before I bring Shea into the club house. This isn’t a surprise visit by any means, but I do need to warn them to make sure their potty mouths are zipped up tight because she’s three and repeats everything.

Shea is on my shoulders when I walk in, having to duck under the doorway so she doesn’t hit her head. All the guys love her and reach up to give her a high-five once we’re inside. She is, of course, decked out in full BoRe fashion even though she’s being bred as a Mariner fan. Her legs move back and forth the more attention she gets and as soon as I put her down, she’s running in a full sprint around the room. Club houses are big kid playgrounds for the most part, but even the littlest of kids can have fun in here.

When Shea runs by Branch Singleton, he scoops her up in his arms and spins her around while making airplane noises. Singleton has a son, but he never gets to see him. I don’t know all the specifics, but the baby mama drama was too much, and he doesn’t like to talk about it. I do know he pays a shit ton in child support and that his son lives in Phoenix where the mother moved after the baby was born.

I let the guys entertain Shea, although it’s likely the other way around with the way she has them all wrapped around her finger, while I get ready. For being three, she’s outgoing and loves attention. Shana and my parents ensure that she experiences a lot of different social situations in order to teach her about stranger danger.

Once I’m dressed and ready, I hold Shea’s hand as we walk down the corridor leading to the field. She wears cleats, like me, only hers have plastic spikes and her tiny baseball glove is tucked under her arm. Mine is already in the dugout, waiting for me.

My dad is waiting for us at the top of the dugout since he’ll be keeping a close eye on Shea during warm-ups. He and Cal Diamond, our manager, are in an in-depth conversation, but he makes eye contact with me briefly as Shea and I climb the steps and step out onto the field.

“I’ll take her with me, if you want to hit,” Kidd says, as he stands near us.

“Me too,” Bainbridge says. With both of them being in the outfield, she has less of a chance to get hurt.

“Do you want to go with Steve and Travis to the outfield?” I ask her, pointing toward the outfield. She clutches my hand a bit tighter and tries to mold herself to my leg. I imagine being three and looking around the baseball field. This place is enormous for an adult, so the size must be overwhelming to a toddler. It takes under a minute until she decides that yes, she does in fact want to be out there.

In a picture perfect moment, my niece is walking hand-in-hand with my best friend and mentor, and the people that are here early are eating up every minute of it.

“Hey, Stud.”

The sound of Sarah’s voice comes from behind me. The nickname she gave me in high school, sticking even today. When I turn to see her, my world shifts on its axis. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe a white coat with her dark brown hair in a bun for starters. Instead, I’m graced with the woman I was once madly in love with wearing a version of a BoRe t-shirt that I’ve never seen before, showing off her curves and ample cleavage. She beckons me with her finger and, as if it had me on a string, I’m walking toward her.

“Hey, Doc,” I say, taking her all in. “Although, I have to say, you don’t look much like a doctor to me right about now.”

When Sarah smiles, her light brown eyes light up. She’s beautiful, always has been. And I’d be a fool to ever tell her no.

“We can play doctor later,” she whispers into my ear, sending a jolt right to my cock.

“I look forward to it.” I back away slowly, trying to undress her with my eyes. I know what’s waiting for me. Hell, I watched her transform from a girl to woman while I caressed every inch of her body. That’s a definite benefit from being her boyfriend for so long.

I wink before turning away and adjust myself. As soon as my hand touches my cup, I count one in my head. I’ll be sure to tweet the BoRe Blogger how many times an adjustment was made tonight so his statistical count isn’t skewed.

Nothing makes me happier than a win. Actually that may not be completely true because the idea of getting laid has me pretty damn ecstatic right now. The win makes our manager happy, and the fact that it was a close victory, with a late two-run shot by Branch, puts a shit-eating grin on his face. With back-to-back road wins, it’s a boost in the standings.

My routine is different this time around. I’m not going to linger in the clubhouse nor am I going to shower. The sooner I arrive at Sarah’s, the sooner this pent up frustration will be released. She made the game almost unbearable today with her shy finger waves, blowing kisses and yelling crude comments about my ass when I was in the on-deck circle. Even though she was sitting next to my parents, she didn’t hold back. My sister encourages Sarah’s behavior and even though Shana is happily married she has no qualms about cat-calling my teammates who, in turn, give her what she calls the “sexy eyes”.

It’s no secret that we all have slump busters or cleat chasers in the towns we visit. I’ve hooked up with random women in different cities, but Sarah is my only consistent one. My parents know about our arrangement, and while they may not approve, they at least know her and consider her a part of our family.

As soon as Diamond is done congratulating us on the win, I’m taking off my uniform and throwing it into the laundry hamper. My cleats, glove and everything else I need stays in my assigned locker until I need it again tomorrow. I put my game day attire on: Dress shirt and slacks and tell the guys I’ll see them later. Kidd shows me how much fun I’m about to have when he puts his fist to his mouth and juts his tongue into his cheek.

“Be jealous,” I say as I grab my dick and give it a good shake.

“Be sure to wrap your junk so your pecker juices don’t sneak out.”

I flip him off as I walk out of the clubhouse, laughing. At the end of the corridor the parade of women starts. Most of them filter around, but a few are brazen enough to flat out ask you to come hang with them. At first, it’s an ego booster when they choose you... until you remember they just want to say they fucked a major league baseball player and take a selfie as proof. I won’t have to worry about that tonight. Sarah doesn’t care about what I do for a profession, she wants my dick and I’m going to give it to her.

The car I had in high school and college waits for me in the parking garage, along with my overnight bag. The smell of home surrounds me as I navigate my way to Sarah’s apartment. It’s close to the hospital so she can walk to work and not far from Safeco Field. There were many times that Sarah and I opted for the cramped quarters of the car even when we had a bed at our disposal. It wasn’t just the thrill of possibly getting caught, but also how close we had to be, and how creative we had to get in order to make things work.

I pull onto Sarah’s street and maneuver my Toyota Camry into a tight parking spot. Sarah’s building used to be an office building until a big time developer came along and converted the space into apartments for students. Mostly medical students live here, but you’ll find a few engineers and teachers as well.

I’m all but jogging to the main door, eager to get upstairs. As soon as my foot hits the first step, the buzzing of the door sounds and there’s the telltale sound of it being unlocked, signaling I can go in. Despite everything that’s happened between Sarah and me, we still have this weird sixth sense shit going on. I guess that’s what makes our situation work so well. Neither of us have any expectations, but we both know when we need that certain itch to be scratched. Sex, in general, is great but when you’re with someone who knows how to make you let go of everything, it’s ten times better.

Her door is open when I round the corner on her floor. Some could take this as a sign that she doesn’t care and is going through the motions, while others could take it as a sign that she’s eager and ready to get shit done. It’s neither for me. Sarah is very matter-of-fact about everything and simply making things easier for me. As soon as she sees me, her eyes widen. I’m dirty, probably stink and look like shit.

“Need a shower?” she asks with one eyebrow raised. I give her a smirk and wink in return before heading toward her bedroom, where her only bathroom is, and drop my bag on her bed. Her apartment is small but cozy. After I graduated, I stayed here for about a week until we all but killed each other – it was a little too close for comfort back then. Now, I welcome it. I unbutton my shirt, tossing it on her bed as I pass by her and undo my pants, letting them fall to my ankles before kicking them off, along with my shoes, on my way into the bathroom. She had to have known I was going to head right here as towels sit on the counter waiting for me.

Starting the shower, I finish undressing before stepping in and letting the hot water pound down on my muscles. I rotate my shoulders and flex under the spray, hoping to get them to loosen up. I jump slightly at the feel of her hands on my sides, but quickly relax into her touch. She slowly runs her hands down my hips until she’s stroking my dick. My head falls back while my hand steadies myself against the wall. I reach back with my other hand and grab her ass, pulling her to me as she nips at my back.

It’s been far too long since I’ve had the attention of a woman like this and I find myself turning, moving her hand away. She looks confused, but I displace any errant thoughts she has when I pull her to me, kissing her hard and fast. We’re all teeth until we find our familiar rhythm, our tongues gliding against each other and our hands roaming paths that had been forged long ago from years of being together.

Sarah breaks our kiss, letting her lips travel from my neck, over my chest and stopping at my erect nipple. She bites hard, pulling on it until I’m groaning. My cock jumps, pushing against her, ready to be inside of her. Sarah looks at me with a devilish smile before dropping to her knees.

“Oh fuck,” I say, grabbing a hold of the shower door to steady myself. She looks up with her brown come-hither eyes, watching me as she takes me in her mouth. I’m taken deep into her warm mouth as I slowly start to rock and her fingers dig into my ass.

“God damn, your…” I trail off as she pulls back and slowly takes me in again, sucking and using her hand to create much need friction. She switches her method and starts licking me from base to tip and back down while her hand works to get me off. I want her mouth on me though. I want to feel the suction against my shaft. Tangling my fingers in her hair, I guide her mouth back to my dick and she greedily accepts what I’m offering. I pump my hips, fucking her pretty mouth as my orgasm builds.

“Fucking hell, Daisy, your mouth.”

I freeze, as does Sarah. The water turns to ice as I stand there in silence and there’s a pounding in my head. She avoids eye contact as she stands and steps out of the shower, leaving me with my demon. The one thing we’ve always agreed on is that if we were to start seeing someone, we’d tell each other so we wouldn’t have awkward situations like the one that just occurred.

I shut the water off and step out. The apartment is silent, not even the sound of the television is heard. Wrapping myself in a towel, I walk into her bedroom and find her standing at the window with her bathrobe on.

“I can explain.” It’s my lame attempt at a half-assed apology. I should be over there, behind her, telling her how sorry I am for using another woman’s name while she was doing exactly what I wanted her to do.

“Who is she?” Sarah doesn’t turn around, leaving me unable to gauge exactly how she’s feeling. I run my hand through my hair and sigh. Dropping the towel, I reach into my bag and pull out my sweats and a t-shirt, forgoing underwear. Right now, I just want to be in clothes so when she kicks my ass out I’m not stark naked in the middle of downtown Seattle.

“She’s hard to explain,” I say as I try to think about how to describe Daisy to her. “We met last month, but I guess you can say I’ve been looking at her since last year. She’s a season ticket holder and we sort of stare at each other during the games.”

“That doesn’t sound creepy at all,” Sarah turns and when I look at her, her eyebrows are scrunched.

“It’s totally fucking creepy, but you didn’t need to point it out.” I sit down and rest my elbows on my knees, my wet hair dripping onto my white t-shirt. Sarah walks over, taking a seat beside me.

“There are support groups for people like you,” she says, but I can’t figure out if she’s making fun of me or being serious. I have a feeling the doctor part of her thinks I need mental help. Maybe I do.

“Do you have a number for me to call?”

She shakes her head and looks down. I’ve ruined everything and don’t know how to fix it. Taking her hand in mine, I turn my body to face her and pull her chin up so I can look her in the eyes.

“Sarah, I’m sorry for what just happened. I can’t explain it and will understand if you never want to speak to me again. Calling you by another woman’s name is beyond unacceptable and I never meant to disrespect you like this.”

Her face softens, and she leans into me. “I know why you did it.”

I laugh. “You’re in sports medicine, not psychotherapy,” I remind her.

“You’re in love.”

Her words cause the room to spin and my heart to stop. I’ve only loved one woman, aside from my mother, sister and grandmothers... and that woman was Sarah. Even in high school I knew I was in love with Sarah, and still, to this day I would do anything for her.

“Am not,” I childishly respond.

“Ethan, right now I want to punch you in the gut and maybe kick you in the junk, but I know how much you value your manhood so I won’t do that. But come on, we’ve been together for years and even after we broke up and you were sleeping with other people, you never once called me by another woman’s name. I’m not exactly happy about it, but I’m willing to concede my reign over your dick and let another woman have at it, as long as you admit to yourself that you’re in love.”

The words “am not” repeat in my head, but I hold them back for fear she might make good on her word and pummel me. I’d deserve it if she chose to, so I’m going to sit here and play dumb.

“Doesn’t matter because I’m stupid and girls are too hard to read.”

“What’d you do?” Sarah asks as she stands to face me with her arms crossed. I think her foot is jutted out, but I’m too afraid to break eye contact to look right now.

“Freaked out because she was reading a blog that I asked her not to,” I mumble my response and lean back, making the gap between us even larger. Sarah is of average height so I’m calculating that the distance between her arm span and me are in my favor.

She rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips. “You’re right, you are stupid.”

I throw my hands up and sigh.

“So what if she wants to read a blog? I read gossip columns all the time. It’s an easy way to relax and remind yourself that your favorite actor or musician is still human and can’t actually walk on water or get away with murder.”

“I find them dumb.”

Sarah scoffs. “It’s because people write about you. Grow a set, Ethan. Who gives a shit? You’re Boston’s most eligible bachelor so regardless of what you do they’re going to write about you. Whether you help an old lady across the street or kick your neighbor’s cat – you’re news! Suck it up, buttercup. This is what you wanted.”

“Ugh,” I say, throwing my hands up in the air again before flopping back onto her bed. She laughs from somewhere behind me while I bury my face into her comforter. We should be having sex right now. Sarah’s a fine piece of ass and her beautiful tits should be bouncing in my face while she rides me, but no, we’re having girl talk and I’m about to cash in my fucking man card.

“Sarah,” I whine, feeling the bed dip next to me. I turn my head and see nothing but a creamy thigh mocking me for being such a pussy. “What am I going to do?”

“Well for starters, you’re not getting laid unless you hit the corner bar and find someone who doesn’t care what you call her, and second, start thinking of a grand gesture because I have a feeling this girl is worth it.”

She’s right, she is, but how does she know that? How do women have all the answers?

“How?”

“I’ve never seen you like this, Ethan. She must be something else if she has you tied into knots.” Sarah runs her fingers through my hair, calming me. “Come on, let’s get some sleep.”

I crawl into my spot and push the covers down with my feet. “Where are you going?” I ask as she gets up.

“Bob and I have a date.”

“Who the fuck is Bob?” I ask, seeing red. How the fuck could she have a date knowing I was coming over?

“Bob is my dildo. He’s my go to cock, always hard, always ready. He never lets me down. You didn’t get me off so someone... or something... has to.” With that she closes her bathroom door, leaving me in her bedroom to listen to her fucking moaning and telling him yes, yes, yes repeatedly while my sorry excuse for a dick laughs at me.