“A word, now.”
Dad’s harsh tone makes me cringe, but I follow him into his study. I don’t say a word while he goes over to the bar and pours himself a glass of scotch. Without offering me one, he swirls it around the tumbler before slinging back a drink. Still facing away from me, he sets the tumbler on the counter.
“What are you doing, son?”
“What do you mean?” I’m not sure what part he’s referring to—Cara and me or the dreaded topic I’d prefer not to talk about.
He slowly turns to face me. “Don’t play coy with me. You haven’t been putting up your best practices, and now, you’re bringing girls home for the holidays. I can’t help but wonder if she’s the reason behind your lack of effort.”
Dreaded topic and her. Got it. “She’s not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“I don’t need to remind you how important this year is to your career.”
“You don’t. I know exactly how important.”
“Do you? Because you’re not acting like it.”
“What’s been going on with practices has nothing to do with Cara.”
“Then what does it have to do with?”
You and this constant pressure for me to make a decision I’m not ready to make.
I wish I could voice that out loud, but being born behind the eight ball doesn’t give me an advantage point. “I just want to win this year, and I don’t know if we’ll be there. The team’s good and we have potential, but without Rick, I don’t know.”
Dad places his hand on my shoulder. “Son, guys come and go all the time. It’s the nature of the game. You play as a team, but you have to work on your abilities too. You know this.”
“Yeah.”
“When you’re in the minors next year, your worrying will shift, and this will seem like child’s play. But you have to get there first. Practice hard, play hard. And don’t let any distractions get in the way.”
Meaning loud and clear. Don’t let Cara get in the way. I don’t know why I have this need to please him. To seek his validation. But it’s there. That little kid who wants nothing more than his father’s approval. The last thing I want to do is disappoint him again.
“Don’t worry, Dad. This is just a fling.” The pang in my heart from the acidic words spewing from my mouth makes breathing unbearable. Forgive me, Cara. “Cara’s not going to get in my way. She’s just someone to have fun with while I bide my time.”
“You’re using the proper precautions, I hope.”
His warning cuts like a knife, and the meaning couldn’t get clearer: Don’t make my mistake. My words come across low and harsh but not because I mean them. “Of course, I am. I don’t want to get attached.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
CARA
As soon as the door shuts behind me, I close my eyes and slink to the floor. My encounters with his dad couldn’t be any more awkward if I tried. His dismissive behavior toward me last night was bad enough, but getting caught with my hand on his son’s dick? Yeah, I’m never going to look him in the face again. I suppose he won’t care since I’m obviously not worth two minutes of his time.
I remain sitting like this until Braxton and his dad clear the stairs. I open the door gently and peer out into the hallway. With a relaxed sigh, I make my way toward the kitchen.
This house is beyond expansive. The open-floor plan features glass windows that expand the entire wall. The ocean views are phenomenal while the house sits high enough on the hill to warrant privacy. I continue padding across the tile but pause when Mr. Smith’s voice booms down the corridor.
“What are you doing, son?”
Even though I shouldn’t, I stop to listen. It isn’t the question itself igniting my curiosity. It’s more of his menacing tone. Each syllable drips with disapproval, but I can’t imagine why. Braxton is like the model son compared to what my brother put Mom through. But when his dad blames me for Braxton’s less than stellar ball practices, my jaw falls slack. I can’t move. I don’t even think I breathe. That is, until Braxton defends me with much vigor, it makes my heart swell.
Oh my God, he stood up for me to his dad.
Hearing enough, I move forward, feeling a little giddy with each step bringing me closer to the kitchen. His dad has issues with Braxton dating me—that’s been obvious since I’ve met him—but Braxton defended me. He may not want to define our relationship, but he’s acting more like a boyfriend than anyone I’ve ever had. I have to rein in my smile when I see Shannon and Mrs. Smith. “What can I help with?”
Braxton’s mom looks up from mashing the potatoes. “Everything’s set, dear. If you want to start placing the casseroles on the counter, we’ll be eating in about fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll help you,” Shannon pipes up. She throws a hot pad at me, and we both carry out a dish to the island. “I’m so glad you’re here. I know you’ve been seeing Braxton for a few weeks now, but it’s still shocking. He hasn’t been serious with anyone since Jasmine.”
“Jasmine being his ex-girlfriend?”
“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t say anything because he was devastated after their breakup. They dated senior year. Right after they graduated, she broke up with him and he…didn’t handle it so well.”
“What happened?” My insides twists as I wonder why I even care. But I can’t seem to turn off my curiosity.
“You know how Braxton’s a bit possessive?” She continues when I nod. “He liked Jasmine a lot and went overboard with his hovering. They got into this huge fight, and I remember sitting at the top of the stairs while she yelled at him. Mom and Dad were gone, so she didn’t hold back. She told him she couldn’t stand his constant jealousy and questions. She said she felt suffocated and he’s the reason she had to lie to him.”
“What did she lie about?” The question flies from my mouth before I could reel it in. It shouldn’t matter. It’s been so long ago. She has nothing to do with me, but what’s concerning is Shannon’s constant worry about us being together. It’s as if she keeps warning me away.
“I don’t know, but she was adamant to blame him for it. He was really possessive with her, which is why I’m surprised he asked you to come home with us. I haven’t seen him be that way with you.”
I blanch. She’s wrong. Braxton is serious about me. He wouldn’t have stood up to his dad otherwise. She must take in my expression because she lets out an exasperated gasp.
“I’m so stupid. I didn’t mean to imply that he doesn’t like you, because he does. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It’s just weird seeing him treat you differently.”
“No, that’s okay. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” My monotone voice isn’t reassuring as I try absorbing what she said.
During dinner, I barely say anything. It’s not like I have much of a chance. His dad talks about work while his mom chimes in on what their friends have been doing. Braxton plants his hand on my thigh, but for some reason, the sentiment doesn’t reassure me. My confidence wavers from the accusation from his dad and the information from Shannon.
By the time dessert is served, my head is swimming in a doubt of confusion. Every time I eye Braxton, he gives me nothing but warm smiles, but he’s the only one paying attention to me. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my life. My goal is to go straight to my room after the dishes are cleaned and hide until tomorrow. But like everything else in my life, nothing ever goes according to plan.
* * *
I’m packing my suitcase when a knock comes on my bedroom door. Braxton told me he’d meet me up here, so I don’t think anything about it when I yell, “Come in.”
My back stiffens when Mr. Smith waltzes into the room as if he has every right to be here.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from wavering. The man is intimidating. He towers over me. He’s an inch shorter than Braxton and twenty pounds heavier, but it’s the constant scowl—like the one he’s weari
ng now—that makes me want to cower.
Whatever he’s contemplating can’t be good for me anyway. “You’re a smart girl, Cara. I’m sure you can figure out why I’m here.”
I don’t answer and stare back at him with what I hope is an impassive look and not the hate that I’m currently feeling. After what seems like the longest stare down in history, he opens his mouth to speak.
“I can’t tell my son what to do, but I can stress to you how important this year is for him.”
“I’m well aware of that, sir.”
“This more than likely will be his last year in college. I’m not sure what you were expecting to gain, but he’ll be leaving. It’s crucial he doesn’t do anything else to jeopardize his career.”
“I’m pretty sure he knows this. I’m not sure what that has to do with me.”
“Oh, I think his lack of performance during practices has everything to do with you.”
“How am I to blame?” I hate the pitch in my voice. It’s squeaky and shrill and lacks confidence.
“He’s losing focus.” His stare is venomous. It wouldn’t matter how strong my voice is. Nothing will derail this man’s mission to make me back off. “I know you’re not aware of the sacrifices it takes to become pro, but he needs to focus.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“When the season starts, you make yourself scarce. It’s only for the best. He’ll be gone this summer, and you have no idea how hard it is for baseball players. He won’t have time for you.”
“I can assure you I won’t be a problem.”
His lips form an evil grin. “I’m sure it won’t since he’s just biding his time with you anyway.”
I startle. “He’s not biding his time with me.”
His eyebrow quirks. “Oh? Then either my son is a liar or this…hmm, what did he call it?” He snaps his fingers. “Oh yeah, a fling. This fling must mean more to you than him.”
“This isn’t a fling. I overheard him stick up for me.” I drop my gaze to the floor and recall Braxton’s exact words. What’s been going on with practices has nothing to do with Cara. He stood up for me.
“Ah, doing a little eavesdropping? Then you must not have stayed for the whole conversation. I believe his exact words were ‘She’s just someone to have fun with while I bide my time.’ Do yourself a favor and disappear before the start of the season.”
My mind reels as my stomach twists. Braxton surely didn’t call what we had a fling. He couldn’t have. That underscores everything we had. I raise my gaze to meet his menacing glare. I want this nasty man gone. In a voice barely over a whisper, I do what would be the fastest way to get him to leave—I agree. “I’ll be gone.”
“I’m glad you see it my way.” My plan works as he turns to leave.
“What’s going on?” Braxton steps into the room, eyeing his dad suspiciously.
“Nothing. Cara and I were just chatting.”
“Mom’s looking for you.” Braxton’s tone is flat, the distrust in his voice evident.
“Very well.”
Braxton waits until his dad is out of hearing range before asking, “What did Dad want?”
I take a deep breath in and release it slowly. “Did you tell your dad you were biding your time with me? That I was nothing but a fling?”
“Shit.” His eyes squeeze shut as he runs his hands through his hair, and my heart breaks. Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them back. I won’t let any of them know how badly those words hurt. Damn it, I’m so stupid. I knew better than to think this could be more. I knew better than to have another relationship where I give my heart and body.
We don’t need to define our relationship.
Those words take on a different meaning now. I’m such an idiot. That statement should’ve been my first clue. A huge red flag I ignored and chose to believe his line of crap. Damn him for making me fall hard for him. Damn him for making me think he was different. Damn myself for always going after the wrong guy.
“I wasn’t looking for a lifelong commitment here, but I considered what we had more than a fling. You knew I wasn’t looking for that,” I say, stepping away.
He grabs my arm with just enough pressure to keep me in place. “You misunderstood.”
“Oh, I think your dad made it very clear.”
“No, what I told him wasn’t what I meant. Not at all.”
“Then what did you mean, Braxton? This isn’t making sense.”
“I only told him what he wanted to hear to get him off my back. If I told him the truth, he’d be livid.”
“Save it.” I go to brush past him. I don’t need to deal with this. “I should’ve gone to Hawaii.”
“And spend time with your douche of an ex?”
“At least with him, I always knew where I stood.”
He rears back as if I’d slapped him. “You know where you stand with me.”
“Do I?”
“My dad’s complicated. He’s a good man, he really is, but he wants what’s best for me. He just has a skewed way of thinking. I didn’t want to get him riled up before dinner. He’s already on edge.”
I’ve heard enough excuses. That’s what it is, excuses to justify the nasty comments he spewed. “Whatever,” I say, stepping away again. This time, he lets me.
“Jesus, Cara. I love you. Can’t you see that?”
My feet stutter as I turn back to face him. The pained expression he wears is agonizing. Not at all what one would expect from someone confessing a declaration of love. “What?”
“I love you.”
“You have a rather shitty way of showing it.”
“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean anything I told him. The thing with my dad is complicated. Please let me prove myself to you.”
As he pulls me in for a hug, I let him. I believe he’s telling the truth or he thinks he’s telling the truth. But sometimes in life, the truth isn’t always enough. He places his lips on my forehead, and my heart squeezes from the plea in his voice. “Please believe me.”
I want to. God, how I want to, but part of me wants to rant and rave. How dare he pick this moment to say those words. It should’ve been after making love last night.
“Explain to me why you’d say those vile things because I can’t wrap my head around it.”
He nods and motions for us to sit on the bed. As the mattress dips below us, he clears his throat. “My father is a good guy, he means well, he really does. In a way, I’m lucky. Some fathers are huge dicks, but he only wants what’s best for me.”
“And having a girlfriend threatens that?”
“According to him, yes.”
“Is that what you think?”
He blows out a breath and runs his hands through his hair. “At first, yeah, I guess I did. But part had to do with my ex-girlfriend, and the other… Well, what dad has preached to me always made sense until now.”
“You didn’t stand up for me, Braxton. You threw me under the bus.”
“I regretted the words before they left my mouth. But I didn’t want the confrontation. Not right before dinner. I’ve disappointed him my whole life, and now with everything I’m dealing with, I just… No, I’m an asshole, and I’m truly sorry for saying that.”
“What do you mean you’ve disappointed him your whole life?” I wait while his usual assured expression darkens with anguish. Whatever troubles him seems to run deeper than childhood antics.
“Back when Dad played college ball, he was like me and destined to go pro. But he was in an automobile accident a week before heading off to spring training. He broke his arm and hurt his shoulder. He never fully recovered. Or at least enough to play at the competitive level. He could’ve gone into an extensive rehab, but he would’ve been without a paycheck. Not an ideal situation when you’ve knocked your girlfriend up. So, he gave up his dream and relives it through me. I owe him that since I kept him from his dream.”
He said before baseball is his passion but I get a sense he wants more.
“That’s the thing. I love baseball. It’s in my blood. Stepping on the field… I can’t even begin to describe the feeling.”
I can see the truth in his eyes, hear the conviction in his voice, but he’s holding something else back. I wish he’d open up the last piece to me.
“Why do I feel like there’s more?”
He stares at me, indecision wavering in his eyes.
“I want it both—my degree and to play in the majors. But I haven’t made up my mind as to what to do if I’m drafted.”
My heart tightens at his admission and the shame he feels from wanting a degree. “There’s still time to decide. But it’s your decision to make. No one else’s.”
“It’d be easier if I sucked then no one would want me.”
“I’d still want you.”
“Do you still?”
Lord help me, I do.
“Yes, but don’t fuck up again.”
“I’ll talk to my dad and make it right. I should’ve confronted him instead of wimping out.”
“You should’ve,” I say assuredly before letting out a groan. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’d rather you not say anything.”
I frankly don’t care what his dad thinks. He clearly doesn’t think much about me.
“But I need to make this right.”
“No, it will only make things awkward. Tell him when you come home for Christmas break if you must, but wait until after I’m gone.” Catching his dad’s wrath is the last thing I want to do.
“It isn’t right.”
“I’ll be fine. Just get me back to campus. Maybe Miller will be there so I can get a dose of Miller’s kisses. Puppies make everything better.”
He laughs. “Miller’s far from a puppy.”
“I know, but since we don’t have time to visit the animal shelter, he’ll do.”
“Animal shelter, huh?”
“It’s a good stress reliever. A place to unwind. Sort of like you and the stadium.”
SWINGING STRIKE: Cessna U Wildcats Book One Page 26
