Homeruns: Wild Pitch Part 13

"Teresa's gone." I couldn't bring myself to tell him about our conversation in the hall, not until I knew what she'd said to him. It'd be like the Ice Queen I'd grown to loathe over the years to feed me a line of s.h.i.+t to cause problems between us.

"Yeah, she's probably out trying to track down a diet water and screaming because they don't have any in the cafeteria." I felt like a d.i.c.k for bagging on her after she'd trickled out the few drops her withered heart was capable of, but it wasn't like it was an uncommon occurrence. He'd be more concerned if I pretended we were suddenly best friends or something.

"No, she's gone." Mason stared at the ceiling through the one eye that was open. "It's all over. She was planning to track me down after the game to ask me one last time for another chance. When I told her I'd never love her the way she wants me to, she signed the papers. I'm officially yours, if you still want me."

"I'll always want you," I promised him. What else could I say? "And while her timing sucks, I'm glad she's out of our lives."

"You know, maybe you did this on purpose, so I'd be hideous enough that you wouldn't have to worry about anyone stealing me away from you," he teased.

"Not funny," I scolded him. Mason s.h.i.+fted on the bed so he was close enough to slug my arm. If he wasn't my everything, I might let the shame drown me. Instead, I laughed along with him because it's what he needed.

Chapter 22.

I should have told Sean to convince my parents to go back to his house and wait for us. My hospital room was packed tighter than a can of sardines as we waited for doc to make his rounds. Rumor had it that after he checked on me to make sure Sean didn't scramble my brains I'd be free to go. Ike was p.i.s.sed that I wasn't heading back to Chicago right away, but I really didn't see the point. I wasn't going to be playing, and Milwaukee was home to me now. Any follow-up appointments that needed to be made would be up here because I wasn't going to ask Sean or Abi to be my personal chauffeur again.

Sean had been busy deflecting my mother's questions every time she tried asking about Teresa. My parents were as confused as I was when they saw Teresa come traipsing into my room last night, and my mom wanted answers. I'd tell them, but not now. That could wait until we were home and I was a bit more comfortable.

"Can you guys give me a minute alone with Sean?" Before the doctor came in, I needed to have time to make sure Sean was really cool with my family invading his sanctuary. It was funny how I thought of it as our home, but I still needed him to tell me he was okay with my parents staying with us until Dad got bored enough to convince Mom I'd be okay without her hovering.

"We'll be right outside if you need us," my mom a.s.sured me. She bent over, stroking the heavy layers of gauze as she kissed my forehead. I may be almost thirty years old, but she still treated me like her little baby boy. If anyone else had been in the room to see the display, I might have been embarra.s.sed.

Sean followed them to the door, whispering something to my dad before pus.h.i.+ng the door closed. I'm not sure why, but I appreciated the gesture because I'd had zero privacy since last night.

"What's up?" Sean asked. He sat on the folding chair beside the bed and I chuckled, imagining the thing splintering under his weight. It's not that he's fat, but he was over six feet tall and almost solid muscle. He may as well have been sitting on a chair from a child's play set.

"You sure it's cool if they crash at the house? You know as well as I do that Mom's going to be out of her mind within a few days. She'll probably start redecorating if you turn your back."

It was a bit alarming to think about how much of the past day Sean and I had sat like this, our hands joined at the side of the bed. Anyone could have walked into the room, but it hadn't crossed either of our minds to worry about it. Personally, as much as I worried about the backlash if the public learned that we were more than friends, part of me wished it'd happen already. That way, we could get on with our lives without constantly looking over our shoulders.

"Mason, you know it's not a problem. It's your home, too. Besides, it'll be easier for me when we fly out if I know that they're keeping an eye on you." Sean flinched at his choice of words. I got it, but we wouldn't know for sure what's going on with my left eye until the swelling went down.

"I think you already took the eye," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Didn't think they meant it so literally when they said they wanted to keep an eye on me overnight."

"Would you f.u.c.king stop?" Sean growled. Good. I was starting to think I'd never get him out of this funk. "How can you be so f.u.c.king perky when they're talking about s.h.i.+t like the fact that you might never see out of that eye again?"

One thing I learned about Sean the first week we knew one another that had never changed: he turns into a b.i.t.c.h when he's sleep deprived. And seeing as he hadn't left my side, I was pretty sure he was overtired by this point.

"Oh, I don't know...maybe because it's better than sitting here crying over something that's not certain. And even if it is, I can't change it." I rolled to my side, a small movement that hurt more than it should, and squeezed Sean's fingers until he finally looked at me. "Look, what's done is done. I think we both know that my odds of staying in Chicago were already slim to begin with. Maybe this is the universe's way of telling me it's time to grow up and get a real job."

It sounded good, and I'd been wondering how much longer I was going to play, but now that it was a real possibility and out of my hands, the very thought was terrifying. Baseball had been my life for so long, I wasn't so sure I was ready for this to be the end of my playing career. Then again, if it was my swan song, I'd be leaving in style.

I didn't give Sean a chance to respond because I knew it'd be more bulls.h.i.+t about how I needed to think positive. He liked to give me a hard time about how I never take anything seriously, but I do that because I'm a devout realist. Sometimes, laughter is the only way to keep from crying over s.h.i.+t I can't control. If you ask me, Sean's the one with a more optimistic outlook on the world most of the time; except when he's tired and stressed out.

"Now that that's out of the way, why don't you open that door and see if the doc is out there waiting for us to get done making out," I teased.

Sean's cheeks flushed an adorable shade of red and I realized how my voice carried through the room. The meds had shut down the already weak filter between my mouth and my brain and I hadn't considered who might be standing on the other side of the door. Coach and Ike were both supposed to be here sometime before I left, not to mention teammates or anyone else who might decide to drop by. The league talked a good game about not being discriminatory, but there were plenty of ways to get rid of a player if his teammates weren't comfortable around him.

"Yeah...I'll..." He didn't finish his sentence. Instead he knocked the chair over as he stood, pointing at the door. "Mason, your mouth is going to get us both in trouble one of these days."

"If I'm lucky," I gaped at him and he winked at me.

Rather than sneak out the service entrance, Mason insisted that I push his wheelchair right through the front doors. The media was camped outside, carefully maintaining a respectable distance so they weren't kicked off the property, but they descended on us the moment the doors opened. I didn't have a head injury and these clowns gave me a migraine with all their questions.

Mason waved, but didn't attempt to answer their inquiries other than to remind the reporters that there would be a press conference soon to discuss the incident. Because of the unique circ.u.mstances, the press managers from both teams thought it'd be a good idea for Mason and me to make an appearance together as a way to show there were no hard feelings.

We wove our way north out of the city on a series of surface streets and country highways to make sure no one was following us home. Mason's parents were running some errands and planned to meet up with us later. I'm pretty sure it was their way of giving us some time to reconnect without worrying about having them eavesdropping. It was the first time I regretted not buying a posh house in a gated community. It would have been nice to have that added measure of security to keep the photogs from stalking us.

All things considered, Mason was doing quite well. He'd rack up frequent flyer miles at the clinic to make sure he didn't have any long-term effects to overcome, but the doctor who checked him this morning seemed to think he'd have a full recovery. It was startling when the doctor took off the bandages. Mason had st.i.tches running along the left side of his mouth and his face was a kaleidoscope of color. The only bandage they replaced was the one over his eye, hoping that if he was allowed to relax it, he wouldn't have any permanent vision loss.

While he got settled, I rummaged through the freezer to see if there was anything to make for dinner. I knew I'd likely be kicked out of the kitchen as soon as Sean's mom got to the house, but I wanted to at least pretend that I knew how to be a good host. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to choose from, and even less as I threw away the food that was freezer burned.

"Mason, I have to run to the store. You going to be okay for a bit?" I yelled up the stairs. When he didn't answer, I rushed to the second floor to find out what was going on. That proved to be a huge mistake when I opened our bedroom door just as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Steam billowed out of the room, creating an ethereal haze around my lover, who was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips and a c.o.c.ky smirk on his face. I was about to cuss him out because he wasn't supposed to get the patch of gauze over his eye wet, but I noticed that he was dry from the neck up.

"You keep gawking at me like that and I might start getting ideas," Mason teased. He stalked toward me and I backed up, hoping his gaze didn't travel lower than my chest because I had a problem building below the waist. My body longed for him, but he wasn't up for it, no matter how he taunted me. "I've missed you, baby. I hope you don't mind waiting on the rubdown, but I can think of plenty of other things we could do."

I swallowed hard as Mason continued closing the gap between us. My mouth was dry and I struggled to form words. "Mace, what are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked, reaching up to run his fingers down the length of my chest.

"Babe, we can't." The little voice in the back of my head screamed for me to shut up and let Mason decide how much he was up for. "You had a head injury less than twenty-four hours ago."

Mason took one more step toward me, stopping when he was so close his breath ghosted across my neck. His hand slid down to rest on my hip. "Yeah, but that head isn't required for what I want to do with you right now," he whispered.

It would have been so easy for me to close my eyes and take what he wanted to give me, but I couldn't. No matter how much I wanted him to lean in and brush his lips against mine, I knew it wouldn't stop there. There was no way I could feel his warm, still damp body pressed against mine and not reach for the towel barely hanging on his hips.

I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him away. When I opened my eyes, I saw him staring at me through one sad, green eye. I wondered for a moment if my heart would break twice as much if not for the bandage covering the other. "Mason, stop. We need to take it easy."

"f.u.c.k that," he argued. "We only have a few days before you're going to have to leave again, and I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'm going to let a few cuts and sc.r.a.pes keep me from showing you how much it sucked being away from you."

He covered my hands with his own and I felt the searing heat of his skin, the feverish pace of his heart racing against my palm. My eyes drifted closed and I felt his ragged puffs of breath against my lips- "Mason... Sean..." The only thing that kept me from tripping over my duffel bag in the middle of the room was Mason's hands holding my hips. I heard two sets of footsteps echoing off the high ceilings as I stared at Mason, trying to get some clue as to what he's thinking.

"Yeah, be right there, Mom," Mason called out, leaning back against the wall with his hand still clenched over his heart. "This isn't over," he warned me before pus.h.i.+ng me out of the room so he could get dressed.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, wondering how long I'd be able to restrain myself for the sake of Mason's health. The doctor said he wasn't allowed to do any strenuous exercise until he was checked and cleared. While he hadn't specifically stated that s.e.x was off-limits, Mason and I weren't exactly the type to take it slow and easy when we were together. And with me leaving before long, I'd never forgive myself if I allowed him to push himself too far and something happened to him.

When I turned around, I saw Mason's mom standing at the bottom of the stairs watching me. "Hey, Ginny. I was going to get lunch started, but then I realized I have nothing to make in the house," I told her as I bounded down the stairs, trying to come across unaffected by the past few minutes. "If you want to make a list, I'll run to the store. I'm sure you and Bill haven't gotten any rest since yesterday either."

"Oh, don't be silly. I'm sure you have other things you should be doing. Bill can go," she said dismissively.

"It's no trouble. I don't have anything to do today..." Other than sit here and hover over Mason. "I was supposed to go in for a light workout, but I already talked to Stu and he excused me for the day as long as I don't need to see the trainer. I'm hoping to get a run in, but that won't be until later."

I needed to find a way to come clean with Stu. I couldn't imagine spending any more time than necessary away from Mason right now, but it wouldn't take long before Stu started questioning the changes to my routine. Before I could do that, I needed to talk to Mason to make sure he was okay with Stu knowing the true nature of our relations.h.i.+p.

"Well, if you're certain. You've already opened your home to us, I don't want you thinking you have to take care of us as well," she said sweetly. G.o.d, Mason was so much like his mom that it was scary. He'd deny that, of course, but it was easy to see her influence in the way he was always trying to help others and resisted accepting help for himself. "Is there anything in particular you'd like for dinner tonight?"

"Why don't we take it easy and make sandwiches or something," I suggested. I didn't want her going to the trouble of preparing anything special since Mason wouldn't be able to eat anything solid until he was well enough to have the dentist take care of the teeth I knocked out. It'd be cruel to fill the house with the smell of his mom's home cooking and then eat in front of him.

"Sure, if that's what you want." She busied herself opening cupboards, muttering to herself about how it's a miracle we hadn't starved to death without someone to take care of us.

Rather than argue with her, I went to the bas.e.m.e.nt to check on Abi. Other than a quick phone call last night to tell her I was staying up at the hospital with Mason, I hadn't talked to her. She had been spending more time every day holed up in her bedroom, only coming upstairs when she knew I wasn't home. That hurt, but I understood that the only thing I could do was give her time to believe I wasn't going to kick her out for getting pregnant.

"Hey Sean, how's Mason?" she asked, not glancing up from the textbook in her lap. She'd decided to take some summer term courses since she had no clue what the future held for her. I hadn't said as much to her because I didn't want her to think of me as a parent rather than her big brother, but I was proud of her for the way she picked herself up after a few days of sulking. She still wasn't sure if she would keep the baby or put it up for adoption, but I had faith that she'd do what was best for both of them. She might not think so right now, but she was going to be just fine.

"He's doing well, for the most part," I told her, taking a seat next to her on the couch. I lifted the book to see what subject she was working on. Sociology in Urban High Schools. That was something I couldn't help her with. It surprised me at first that she was taking such a specialized course, but it made sense when I thought about the people she hoped to help someday. "He'll be out of it most of the day thanks to the pain pills they have him on, but the doctor said he should have a full recovery. If you want, why don't you head upstairs and see him before he pa.s.ses out?"

"Yeah, maybe I will," she said, nose still buried in the text she was reading as she resumed gnawing on the end of a pen. "Are his parents staying here?"

"Yeah, they are." I hoped that was okay with her. Even though it was my name on the deed, I wanted her to feel as though this was her home, too.

"Cool. I want to chat with Ginny."

"Sounds good," I told her when I realized her lack of attention was her attempt at dismissal. I wandered back upstairs and let Ginny know Abi wanted to talk to her before heading to check on Mason again. With him pa.s.sed out and snoring in the recliner, I decided it was a good time to run to the store and get in a quick workout.

Chapter 23.

I paced back and forth across the plush carpet in our bedroom, wearing nothing but my crisp blue b.u.t.ton down s.h.i.+rt and boxers while I waited for my mom to finish pressing my dress slacks. I told her they looked fine, but she insisted that they needed to be perfect, at least when I walked out of the house. She was probably right, but having her dictating my attire did nothing for my demeanor.

I didn't want to do this press conference. I didn't want anyone to see the kaleidoscope of color on my face or the Frankenstein st.i.tches at the corner of my mouth. The only thing I wanted to do was stay holed up at home, where baseball and everything else that had been bogging me down for months didn't exist. And after having some time to think about everything, I realized that I'd been stressed most of the season, knowing that changes were coming but not wanting to admit how drastic they'd be.

"Hurry up, we have to get on the road, otherwise we're both going to have our a.s.ses in a sling," Sean grumbled as he threw my pants at me from the door. I looked up at him and he diverted his gaze quickly. It was cute to see how he blushed when he worried my parents would see him eyeing me. One of my missions in life was to make him see that not every family was like his, and they wouldn't care. h.e.l.l, from what they'd told me, I was certain they'd be ecstatic as long as I was happy.

I smirked, as I looked him over as well. There was no way anyone, gay or straight, could deny what a gorgeous guy he was. His suit coat was tailored to perfection, broad across the shoulders and narrow at the waist. His dark blond hair had so much product in it that I'm pretty sure tornado strength winds couldn't touch it, but in a way that didn't make him look as though he was trying too hard. And those eyes...Jesus, they should be considered a lethal weapon with their translucence near the pupil and a ring of deep blue at the edge of the iris. I may have joked that he hit me so I'd be as ugly as him, but that's only because there's always been something about his looks that has drawn me to him, and it all started with those d.a.m.n f.u.c.k-me eyes.

"Dude, are you going to stand there or finish getting ready?" he scolded when he caught me ogling him. I really needed to get my head where it needed to be, otherwise we'd be outed the second we walked into the ballpark if I couldn't stop thinking about stripping that suit and tie off of him one piece at a time as soon as we got home.

"Give me five and I'll be ready," I told him as I slipped into my slacks.

The drive north to Milwaukee was brutal. Traffic wasn't too bad, but it was apparent that something was bothering Sean. He glanced at me from time to time, shaking his head before returning his focus to the highway in front of him.

We pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of the stadium and Sean parked in "his" spot in the employee lot. s.p.a.ces weren't a.s.signed, but it was pretty well known in every club that you parked in your unofficial spot, whether anyone else would be there or not.

A few photographers and reporters were waiting outside the clubhouse, hoping to catch our arrival. I figured these were either less than reputable publications or amateur newshounds who weren't allowed into the official press conference. If the teams didn't trust them to come inside, neither did I.

Sensing my discomfort, Sean moved to my left, s.h.i.+elding the sight of my mangled face from the cameras. The one demand I had made when this was set up was there would be no photography allowed. It would be embarra.s.sing enough letting so many people see my injuries, I didn't want them doc.u.mented and swirling around online within minutes.

"Just keep your head down, we're almost there and Ike's waiting at the door," Sean mumbled, barely moving his lips. I glanced up without lifting my head and saw that Ike was indeed holding the door open.

"Atley...Tucker...good to see you boys," Ike greeted us as soon as we were close. "Hurry and get in here. Sean, Coach Martinez and I need to have a chat with Mason before the press conference starts, and I know Coach Ackerman wanted to touch base with you as well."

"Yes, sir," Sean responded. He nodded to me before heading off in the opposite direction from where Ike was leading me. Even though I knew this was standard, for management to make sure there weren't going to be any gaffs in front of the cameras, it felt as though they were purposely putting distance between the two of us. That put me on edge more than anything else.

"How're you feeling, son?" I hated it when he called me that. Ike liked to think of himself as some sort of surrogate father to the players, which meant he wasn't the best-liked man on the team. He had a habit of sticking his nose where it didn't belong and a lot of the guys, myself included, resented his paternal persona.

"Other than taking a ball in the face, I can't complain." Our footsteps echoed through the empty concrete hallways of the club. I used to love that sound, loved the mystique of walking through the darkness, but today that affection was conspicuously absent. For the first time in my life, I didn't want to be at the park.

"Good, good." He patted me on the back, gently guiding me down another empty hall. There was a single beam of light s.h.i.+ning from an office at the opposite end and figured that was our destination. "Then I'll a.s.sume you will be heading back with us after the press conference is over."

"Sir?" I figured this was coming, but I had no intention of heading back. We both knew the score, so to speak, and I was the loser. It would have taken one h.e.l.l of an outing for them to renew my contract after the subpar year I'd had, and I failed to deliver.

Ike stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned to face me. "Mason, you need to come back to Chicago so the team-approved doctors can treat you. They'll make sure you get the care you need to get back to the game as soon as possible."

"And you think I can't get that up here?" I snapped. "With all due respect, I think we both know my career in Chicago is DOA. Keeping that in mind, I need to do what's best for my physical and mental well-being, and my home is here now. With all of that in mind, I think it's better if I keep seeing the doctors at the clinic in Milwaukee."

"Kid, you always were a stubborn one," Ike chided, shaking his head. "Nothing has been decided with your contract, because the team wants to discuss your prognosis with our doctors not the attending physicians at a hospital none of us know anything about."

We started walking down the hall again, and I swear Ike's nostrils flared with annoyance.

"A lot of people have invested time and money into you," he criticized. "You'd do well to remember that before you make a final decision. The office is doing everything in their power to make sure you're not cut because of an injury, but if you're not willing to play by the rules, I'm not sure what anyone can do to help you."

As we stepped into a stark white office with only a table and four chairs in the center of the room, I knew exactly what I could do to help myself.

The press conference was much as we'd been told it would be. The media was fascinated by Mason's injury and the potential implications of 'the incident' on our friends.h.i.+p off the field. You'd think they'd have had more pressing matters, like the teams who were in the race for the pennant, but nope, they were salivating at the chance to get their hands on a juicy human-interest story.

It wasn't until nearly twenty minutes in that things got exciting. I had pretty much zoned out once the reporters got tired of talking to me, and almost missed Mason dropping a bomb into the room.

"While I have you all here, I have an announcement to make." Mason squared his shoulders and straightened his tie before continuing. I gave him a look that I'm pretty sure said 'What in the h.e.l.l are you doing?' and he mouthed the words 'Watch this' in return.

Oh h.e.l.l, what is he doing? More than once over the past twenty four hours I had wondered if everything that'd happened since the start of spring training was going to give Mason a nervous breakdown, and I had to fight the urge to lunge at him, knocking him off the dais to create a distraction. 'Watch this' had always been Mason speak for 'There will be fireworks' and usually wound up with him on someone's s.h.i.+t list.

"In light of my current injuries, as well as other personal issues I'm dealing with, I have decided that this season will be my last," he said calmly. Audible gasps and hushed whispers filtered through the room. Ike and Coach Martinez were somewhere between utterly shocked and completely p.i.s.sed, and I realized that this was the first they were hearing of his decision. h.e.l.l, it was the first I'd heard it, and I was tempted to strangle him for it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I believe that's all the time we have for today," the Bulldogs' press manager said, although I doubted anyone heard her over the reporters shouting their questions toward Mason. I could have kissed her for realizing that the scene was about to get out of hand and it wouldn't be anything good.

Despite Rebecca's proclamation that the time for questions had pa.s.sed, one woman near the back of the room stood and dropped a second bomb on the already shocked room. "Mason, does your decision to retire have anything to do with your relations.h.i.+p with Sean Tucker?"

"That will be all!" Rebecca spat out, motioning for security to escort the offending so-called reporter out of the room.

Even with a burly security guard holding either arm, it was clear the reporter was determined to finish her question. "Is it true that Teresa Atley signed divorce papers because the two of you were having an affair?"

Once we walked out of the room, I pulled Mason aside before Ike could reach him. "What in G.o.d's name was that little stunt? How could you do something like this without talking to me first?" I growled. "And how in the h.e.l.l does she know about us?"