Balk (Home Stand #2)

by Lacy Hart

  “I thought you might like this,” she told him, as she offered him the cold glass.

  Wes folded down the newspaper and tossed it onto the floor beside the bed.

  “Thanks,” he said with a sigh and a smile. Just the feel of Kristin’s body next to his put Wes more at ease than he had felt for the day, especially since the injury.

  Kristin reached in with her wine glass and clinked it on Wes’ before each of them took a sip. The combination of the cold and dry of the wine, along with the sweet notes, gave Kristin just the warmth she hoped for. Kristin watched as Wes sipped his wine and then looked up. Kristin reached over to grasp his glass and put both glasses down on his nightstand before she leaned her body close to his.

  Kristin kissed Wes deeply and pressed her breasts against Wes’ chest as she did. Her right hand grazed the stubble on his cheek, and she felt the familiar grip of his hands at her hips as Wes held her close. Kristin slowly pulled her lips back from his and offered up a sly smile. She knew that she wanted more than just kissing tonight.

  Her hands moved down over Wes’ muscular chest, and she could feel his heart beating strongly through his t-shirt. She quickly put her hands on either side of Wes and pulled herself on top of him so that she straddled him now. Kristin looked down at him and gave another grin as her fingers skillfully worked the buttons of her blouse until her shirt was open. She tossed the shirt aside, leaving herself in her favorite white lacy bra. She pulled Wes’ t-shirt over his head so she could run her fingers over his taut pecs.

  Their kissing intensified, and the movements became more frenetic as each reached for the other. Hands roamed over each other’s chest and torso, and Wes’ arousal made its presence known to both. Kristin eagerly pulled off her trousers while never leaving the bed, and she tugged at the sweatpants Wes wore. When she stood at the bottom of the bed and started to pull the pants over Wes’ ankles and feet, Wes cried out in obvious pain. Startled, Kristin stopped her actions.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked with genuine concern.

  Wes sat up on the bed and grimaced while he tried to pull his right leg up. When he did this and Kristin finished the removal of his sweats, Wes speedily reached for his ankle. Before he got his hands there, Kristin spied the upper reaches of the bruise above Wes’ ankle. She pushed his hands aside and pulled his sock down a bit more, causing Wes’ significant discomfort and a brief groan through gritted teeth, so she could see the black and dark blue that covered his ankle.

  “Oh my God, are you okay? What happened?”

  “It looks worse than it is Kris, really,” Wes answered as he tried to grab his sock to cover the bruise. Kristin adamantly defied Wes’ efforts and pulled the sock off his foot to examine the rest of the injury.

  “Wes, this seems pretty bad,” Kristin fretted. “We should go to the ER and get it looked at. There could be something broken.”

  “Dr. Emerson already looked at it,” Wes told her. “He thinks it’s just a bruise. I just have to be careful for a few days, ice it, and I’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t sound or look fine,” Kristin said. Her glances shot back and forth from his ankle to his face. “How did you do this? Jumping off the roof?”

  “Very funny,” Wes said, without an appreciation for the sarcasm. “I hurt it in the backyard.” Wes hoped he could just leave it at that without going into too much detail, but he knew Kristin’s persistence wasn’t likely to keep from her asking more.

  “Where in the backyard? What were you trying to do back there? It’s nothing but ice and snow right now.”

  “Come here,” Wes said. He patted Kristin’s usual side of the bed so she could come and sit next to him and stop staring at or touching his sore foot.

  Kristin slid onto the bed, and Wes put his arm around her, so her head rested on his shoulder.

  “I… I went up to the batting cage today,” Wes said with hesitation.

  “You haven’t been up there in months,” she softly replied. Kristin put the pieces together before Wes even finished explaining what had happened.

  “I was just going up to check on things at first.” Wes knew this stretched the truth a bit. “I looked around, and then I just wanted to take a few swings. I was rusty, of course, and fouled one off on my ankle. It got me pretty good. After that, I slipped coming back down the hill and made it worse.”

  Kristin lay quietly on Wes’ shoulder for a moment.

  “So, how was it?” Kristin stated gently.

  “How was what?”

  “Taking swings,” she said. Kristin lifted her head off his shoulder and sat up. “I’m not naïve, Wes. I know what time of year it is and how you might feel right now, not being in Florida. Of course, you miss it. It was your life for so long. So how was it?”

  Wes didn’t know how he should answer. He didn’t want to lie to her; he never did. He also didn’t want her to worry or feel hurt because he tried to hide something from her, even though he was in a way.

  “It felt good,” he admitted. “I hadn’t realized how much I did miss baseball until today. It took a little bit, but after a while, it came back easily, and I was… I was in a good groove.”

  “You kept going even after you hurt your ankle?”

  “Yes,” Wes answered before he gazed over at her. Kristin looked down and away from him briefly, unsure just what to think.

  “Are… are you going to go back up there to hit more?”

  “Well, not tomorrow or anything. Not with my ankle like this. But when it’s feeling better, I think I will. Does that bother you?”

  Now it was Kristin’s who felt uncomfortable about answering. Kristin scooted down to the bottom of the bed and rose. She walked over to her dresser, looked at herself in the mirror, and saw Wes’ reflection behind her as he lay on the bed. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, removed it, and tossed it onto the top of her dresser before she stretched into the top drawer to pull out a gray nightshirt.

  “Kris?” Wes’ stated as he waited for her to answer.

  Kristin pulled the nightshirt over her head and tugged it on. She inhaled deeply before saying anything.

  “Wes, if that is what you want to do, you should do it. It will make you feel better.” She looked into the mirror the whole time and never turned to face him. She tossed her hair, so it was outside of the nightshirt and beheld her eyes in the mirror. She wished nothing presented there that might give away how she really felt before she turned around. “I know something has been bothering you for the last week or so. This can be a good outlet for you.”

  “You still didn’t answer me,” Wes said with a bit more concern in his voice now. “Does it bother you?”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Kristin answered, pushing her lips into a smile.

  “Good,” Wes nodded, feeling relieved. He smiled broadly at her and opened his arms. “You should come back to bed,” he offered, pulling the duvet cover and blanket down.

  “I’m going to get some ice for that ugly thing on your ankle,” she told him as she gently replaced the pillow that was under his foot and lifted his foot onto it.

  “Oh man,” Wes said with disappointment.

  “Your loss, Mr. Martin,” she said as she flipped up the hem of her nightshirt, revealing her white panties, as she walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

  Kristin stood before the refrigerator for a moment before she pulled open the freezer drawer. She reached in and pulled one of the ice wraps that laid on top of the ice. One was still not frozen yet, and it gave away that he used it all day, probably even when they talked on the phone earlier.

  She picked up another, firmer wrap and slowly shut the freezer door. She saw her dim, shadowy reflection in the stainless steel of the fridge. Kristin took some deep breaths to steady herself before she went back into the bedroom.

  She hadn’t the chance to even talk about her day, about how Karen and Brian got engaged, how great it made her feel to help Izzy out the way she had, or anything else on her mi
nd. All of that abruptly placed itself on the back burner.

  “Kris, you coming back?” she heard Wes yell from the bedroom.

  “On my way,” her voice cracked slightly as she gripped the ice wrap tighter.

  5

  The pain lingered in Wes’ ankle much longer than he thought it would or wanted it to. Each morning he got out of bed anticipating that it would feel better, only to be disappointed when he put weight on it or turned a certain way, and the familiar sting returned that forced him to sit down. Wes even took the time to go down to Dr. Emerson’s office to have it examined again and have x-rays taken, but the tests came back showing nothing more than a deep bone bruise. Wes knew of players that suffered an injury like this while he played, and in some cases, it could lay a ballplayer up for a month or more as it healed.

  Every day that went by where things weren’t better meant one more day that he couldn’t swing, get in better shape, or even try to latch on with another team. Teams wouldn’t look for a guy who sat out most of last season under the best of circumstances, but spring training moved on, and that window was steadily closing on Wes.

  Hiding disappointment became more difficult as days dragged into two weeks, and two weeks turned to three. Wes’ frustration built, and the last thing he wanted to do was take it out on Kristin or Izzy, but he found himself with a much shorter fuse than ever before. It just took the sight of some of Izzy’s things on the floor in the living room for him to finally blow up.

  “Isabelle!” Wes bellowed as he kicked the pile of clothes with his left foot, so he didn’t hurt his right more.

  Izzy slowly made her way down each step of the staircase. She knew from her father’s tone of voice and his use of her full first name that she wasn’t being called for a good reason.

  “What’s up, Dad?” she said as she took a deep breath.

  “How many times do you have to be told about leaving your stuff on the floor? There are clothes all over the place.” Wes kicked the clothing out a bit further so that the shirts and pants all spread across the floor.

  “They weren’t all over the place until you kicked them,” Izzy mumbled as she plodded down the steps to pick up her things.

  “What was that?” Wes snapped.

  “Nothing, Dad,” Izzy huffed. She squatted down to pick up her clothes and put them back into a pile to bring them upstairs.

  Once she had pulled them together, Izzy rose and stood face to face with her father. She and Kristin spoke days ago about Wes, how he acted lately, and how they needed to keep trying to smooth things over as he dealt with this tough experience in his life. Izzy tried to rise to the challenge, but incidents like this became more and more frequent and started to frazzle her already anxious teenage nerves.

  “Anything else?” Izzy remarked, trying not to sound too sarcastic, even though she wanted to so badly.

  “Yes, the kitchen garbage needs to go out. If you could do that, I would appreciate it,” Wes answered as he worked to regain some composure.

  “Fine.” Izzy walked up the stairs, stomping on each step a bit harder than usual to vent her frustration.

  “No need to stomp!” Wes yelled. “And you better not just toss that pile of clothes on the floor in your room. That place is a mess as it is.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes and mimicked Wes as she walked towards the door to her room. Kristin had just opened the bathroom door in the hall and almost ran right into Izzy as she passed. Kristin knew by the way Izzy moved that something else was wrong.

  “What’s the matter?” Kristin asked. Izzy waved to Kristin for her to follow her as she went into her room. Kristin made her way down the hall and shut the bedroom door behind her.

  “I get Dad is going through a tough time right now, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” Izzy said. She tossed the clothing she held onto the top of her dresser before she sat down on her bed. “He takes every little thing out on me.”

  Kristin sat down next to Izzy.

  “Izzy, I know it’s been hard for you, and he’s been rough to deal with. Hopefully, he will start feeling better…”

  “Kris,” Izzy interrupted. “We’ve said that for weeks now, and he’s not feeling better. He just gets grumpier every day. He doesn’t even get changed out of his sweats most days. I tried to get him to drive me to school or even just go down to Grandma and Grandpa’s to visit, and he won’t do that. He just stays cooped up in the house, staring out the back windows. We need to do something.”

  Kristin sighed. “I don’t know what I can do, Izzy. He doesn’t even want to talk to me about it. Anytime I bring up baseball or his ankle or anything like it, he just stares at me and nods, like he’s not really listening.”

  “Well I’ll be glad to talk to him about it,” Izzy said as she got up from the bed and moved towards the door.

  “I don’t think that’s the answer either,” Kristin said. She grabbed hold of Izzy’s wrist before she could turn the doorknob. Kristin then reached and gave Izzy a hug from behind, holding her.

  “I’ll talk to him, I promise. Try not to overthink it. Concentrate on other things instead. What’s going on with the musical?”

  “They announce the cast this week,” Izzy said as she pressed her back into Kristin, letting herself get hugged tighter. “I really hope I get Ariel.”

  “I know you’ll get it,” Kristin reassured her. “You have a great voice, the smile, and let’s not forget this red hair.” Kristin took some of Izzy’s red locks into her hand and held it up while smiling.

  “Thanks, Kris,” Izzy replied. Izzy went and sat down at her desk and flipped open the lid to her laptop. “I’ve got some homework to finish.”

  “Homework to finish or Bradley to talk to?” Kristin said with a smirk.

  “Maybe a little of both,” Izzy said coyly.

  “Okay, but don’t make it too long with Bradley. If your father hears you and comes in here, you know he will explode. And maybe clean up a little bit in here, please?”

  “I promise.” Izzy made a cross with her index finger over her heart.

  Kristin exited the bedroom and made her way down the hall towards the stairs. She walked down quietly, listening to try to hear what room Wes might be in. She had hoped he went downstairs to the entertainment area, a place he rarely frequented lately. She got to the living room and found all the lights out, and the only light on in the kitchen was the one they routinely left on over the sink. Kristin saw the lights on in the bedroom, which meant Wes already holed himself up in there again.

  Kristin stood in the doorway to the bedroom for a moment, eyeing Wes as he laid on the bed. He wore his pajama bottoms and t-shirt already, even though the time showed barely past eight at night. He also propped his foot upon the pillow already with the familiar ice wrap on it.

  Kristin walked over and stood at the foot of the bed.

  “Want to go out to the diner and grab some dessert? I know they have banana cream pie today, your favorite.”

  Wes glanced up from reading the newspaper, the sports section naturally, and looked at Kristin.

  “I’m not really hungry,” he answered, going back to reading the paper.

  “Okay, well how about we just go down to your parents and see them? I haven’t been down there with you in weeks. I’m sure your Mom and Dad would love to see you. I have a couple of books I wanted to give Jenny anyway.”

  Kristin waited patiently for Wes to answer.

  “I don’t know,” Wes told her. “Why don’t you just run down and drop the books off? Mom would love to chat with you.”

  “Well how about we go downstairs, cuddle on the couch and watch a movie?” Kristin did her best to mask her growing frustration.

  “I don’t think there’s anything I really want to watch,” Wes stated, folding the newspaper and moving to the next page.

  Kristin marched over towards Wes and grabbed the newspaper from his hands before tossing it across the room.

  “Alright Wes, I’ve tried t
o be nice and accommodating with you. I get that you’re frustrated, upset, sad, or even a little depressed right now, I really do, but we can’t just spend every night going to bed at eight with you brooding about things. It’s affecting you, it’s affecting Izzy, and it’s affecting me.”

  “How is it affecting you and Izzy?” Wes answered. “I’m just keeping to myself and trying to work through this. I just want my ankle to feel better.”

  “Wes, it’s getting to all of us.” Kristin sat next to Wes on the bed and took his left hand in hers. “Seeing you like this every day is eating me up. I want to help you, but you won’t let me in to do that. And you constantly ride Izzy about anything and everything. You were never like that. We need to do something.”