He grunted and stopped to let a group of visitors pass. "One week to go until I can ditch this cast. I'm so ready. Showering is tough, not banging into things is tough. Not being able to carry a cup of coffee to the balcony is tough. I can't wait to be fully mobile."
They stepped outside into the late afternoon sunlight. She followed Liam to his car and laid his garment bag across his backseat. "Do you have plans tonight?"
"Just a regular Friday night of watching the game and having a beer. The guys play tonight at seven." He cocked his head to one side and a sly grin curved his lips. "So... Do you want to watch the game with me? It's good to keep an eye on what the other mascots in the league are doing. The guys will bring me back scouting reports though, if you want to do something else."
"Wait, scouting reports? Are you being serious or is this another joke?"
His eyes crinkled with his smile. "Not long, detailed handwritten notes, but they'll text me with the gist of the mascots' moves. We need to stay competitive."
"You do take this seriously."
"The fans pay a lot for tickets. They deserve the best performance we can give them."
She couldn't fault him there. "I'd love to watch the game with you."
He shifted closer, his chest grazing hers and igniting her desire. "Dinner too?"
"Dinner would be good." Her body heated and she stretched onto her toes to meet his waiting lips.
Her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She eased away from Liam and reached for it. Lauren's number, calling not texting. Lauren always communicated via text.
"Let me grab this." She slid her thumb across the screen. "Hello?"
"I fell off the balance beam and rolled my ankle. It really hurts. Coach Kay thinks I sprained it, but what if I broke it?" Short sniffs mixed in with her words. No doubt, Lauren was crying.
Desire and duty twisted up inside her. She loved her sister deeply and sympathized, having been down the road of injury and disappointment many times. "Break would be better. You'd heal faster. Where are you now?"
"At the gym. It just happened. Can you please come?"
"Did you call Dad?"
"No." She sniffed again. "He's at work."
"I'm on my way. We'll go to urgent care and get you an x-ray." She ended the call, left a voice mail for her dad, and then turned to Liam. "I'm sorry. I need to leave."
"I heard." His lips pressed into a forced grin and he looked down at his cast. "Totally get it. I hope she'll be okay. Do you want me to come in case you need help?"
She blinked at his words, unsure if she'd heard him correctly. "Really?"
He nodded at his crutches with a self-deprecating shrug. "I can't help carry her or go on a coffee run for you if there's a long wait, but I can sit there and tell her stupid shark jokes, and we can compare injuries."
"I'd like that." She kissed him again, appreciative and amazed. She'd never really had anyone to lean on.
Two hours later, she led Lauren and Liam into her family home, then helped Lauren get settled on the couch in the living room. She shook her head at the soda cans, books, and magazines that littered the coffee table. "I'll get some pillows so you can elevate your ankle."
"Can I have a blanket and some iced tea too?"
"Sure."
When she returned with the pillows and blanket, Lauren was taking a photo of her ankle. Her sister twisted toward where Liam sat in the armchair and held out her phone. "Which filter makes my injury look more dramatic?"
The corner of his mouth winged up in a smile. "I like the third one, where everything in the background fades out. But..." He pushed to standing and hobbled over. Leaning on his crutches, he took her phone and then captured another photo. "This one includes your crutches in the shot."
"Ooh, that's better. Thanks." Lauren accepted her phone and winced as Claire set the pillows under her bandaged ankle. "Maybe I should take another picture with the pillows."
Claire paused in gathering the empty cans. "Why do you need so many photos?"
"I have to see the best one to put on social media. My friends will want to know how I'm doing." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and frowned at her ankle. "I don't know how I'll handle getting around school next week."
Rolling her eyes at the dramatics, Claire tossed the cans into the recycle bin. Could her sister have actually forgotten the doctor’s instructions so quickly? She sighed at the sink full of dishes. Who knew if her sisters had worked out a new chore system? There wasn't any evidence of one in the kitchen. She grabbed an ice pack and the glass of tea and delivered them to her sister with two pain pills. "It's a mild sprain. Remember, the doctor said you'll be able to start putting weight on your ankle on Sunday. And you won't need the elastic bandage past Sunday or Monday. As long as you use the crutches, you'll be fine."
"Still. I'll need someone to help carry my books."
"You'll probably be okay using your backpack."
"Nope. I'll be off balance." Lauren again turned to Liam. "You understand, right? You told me all those stories in the waiting room about how it's been hard to get around. Maybe I need a golf cart too."
"Oh my god." Claire pinched the bridge of her nose. "You don't need a golf cart. You're going to be fine in a week. And until then, you have Krissy, Ginger, Amanda, Jen, and Dad to help you do things around here."
Lauren pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. "You don't have to get mad. I didn't get hurt on purpose."
Anger tingled on the edges of Claire's nerves. She'd had about all the teenage drama from Lauren she could tolerate for one evening. But losing her cool would only spoil her great day. She counted to ten. "I'm sorry. I know. I sent Dad a text with all the info the doctor gave me. He said he's going to try to come home early tonight if he can."
"Yeah, he sent me a text too." She looked at her phone again. "Krissy and Ginger are staying at a friend's house tonight, and Amanda and Jen won't be home until late. Can you stay until someone gets home?"
"Uh...sure." Claire met Liam's gaze. Definitely not how she'd thought the evening would turn out, but if her sister needed her, she couldn't leave.
He moved closer to her. "We missed dinner. Are you guys hungry? I can order something."
"Pizza and chocolate chip cookies," Lauren called from the couch. "Please? It would help me feel better."
He grinned and nodded. "Claire?"
"Anything's fine." She studied his gaze, trying to see past the smile. Was he intending to stay the whole evening with her? He’d seemed to take their change of plans in stride.
He made the call, and then dropped into her father's worn out recliner, chucking his crutches to the floor with a clank. The reach of his hand toward her convinced Claire to abandon straightening up her sisters’ clutter and join him on the chair. She carefully sat by his side, conscious of his ankle and her sister’s scrutiny.
He joked with Lauren until the food arrived, and after dinner, insisted on helping Claire clean up the evidence of their meal.
Later, as a movie played on the TV and they shared the recliner, Claire leaned into Liam's strong fingers massaging the back of her neck. "I'm sorry tonight didn't go as planned, but thank you for being here."
"I'm sorry your sister is hurt, but I had fun. Is Lauren the one who texts you all the time?"
She glanced at her sister sleeping on the couch beside them. "Yeah. She really is a good kid, just dramatic."
"You mentioned your dad and your sisters, but not your mom. Is she...?"
"She isn't a part of our lives. Hasn't been for fifteen years. Her choice." She'd grown accustomed to stating the story matter-of-fact. Without emotion. Bitterness and anger depleted long ago after she'd realized those emotions only served to hurt her. Forgiving her mom then letting her go had allowed Claire to heal.
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right. I did the best I could to make up for her not being here. Even if we fight sometimes, my sisters know I'll always be there if they need me."
"Sounds li
ke they rely on you a lot."
"For a long time they did, but only Lauren really does now. The others are a little older. The twins are seventeen, Jen's nineteen, and Amanda is twenty." She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'd do anything for them, but I really enjoy waking up in my own apartment now and not have to worry about anyone but me. Oh god, that sounded selfish."
"No, it sounded honest. It's not selfish to live your own life. You've missed out on a lot playing mommy since you were a kid. Time they became as self-sufficient as you are. And time for you to have some fun." He shifted his hand into her hair. "I'm always ready to have fun. So, you know, we should have fun together."
"I like the sound of that." She needed someone like Liam in her life. A born entertainer, an unending stream of jokes and laughter followed in his wake. So did a sense of joy. He was intuitive and caring. She loved the way he melted for the kids. And how the fiercely passionate man called to her on every level.
Yes. Just the man she needed—just the man she wanted.
For now.
She'd never wind up like her dad. Never test the strength of a promise.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SLADE
THERE WASN'T ANYTHING like flying. Or skydiving. The plane's door opened and Slade made his way to the back. He stepped to the edge and stared at the earth thirteen thousand feet below. With a grin, he gave the pilot a thumbs-up and jumped into the air. The first minute of free falling was an intense rush. His heartbeat thundered and adrenaline coursed through his veins, but after the parachute opened, the flight was quiet and inspiring. Nothing but the sky above him and the mountains below him. Seven glorious minutes where he could just be.
He'd had a decent game to start off the road trip last night, going three for four in his at-bats, including a walk-off home run in the ninth inning that helped his team win the game, but he hadn't seen Savanna in six days, hadn't spoken to his sister in a week, and still had no idea when his birth parents could meet him. The restlessness in his soul rattled loud and constant.
Which was why he'd woken up early, sneaked out of the team hotel, and spent the morning airborne.
Too soon, his boots touched the ground. He came in soft, probably the best landing he'd ever done. After releasing himself from his parachute, he made his way to where Dom stood outside the canopied waiting area.
Most of his teammates had their own hotel room during road trips but Dom had always insisted that he liked having the company of a roommate and Slade gladly agreed, even though he suspected Dom pretended for his benefit. The older brother he'd never had, Dom gave him the stability of family, and was usually more than willing to accompany him on his adventures—from midnight pizza to keeping him company during the half hour drive to the skydiving facility and back.
Dom held up his phone, showing a video of the landing. "Nice job. I sent it to Liam. You about ready to head back? We'll have time to eat lunch with Adam and Gemma before heading over to the ballpark."
"Let's go." He liked that Dom didn't push him to talk, but was simply there, always there, when Slade needed him.
Five hours later, as his sat in the visitors' locker room after batting practice, he wished he could say the same for his team's manager.
Dusty Martin, Slade's candidate for Asshat of the Year, bellowed his name from the opposite side of the room. "MacInnes, what's this I hear about you skydiving?"
Slade cocked his head to the side. "What did you hear?"
Glowering at him, Dusty cut a path straight toward his locker. "That you spent the morning doing it. Skydiving's not going to fly. Not if you want to remain on my team."
Slade couldn't help the twitching of his lips. Dusty had just told him that skydiving wasn't going to fly. "You can't cut me for doing things on my own time."
"Think not?"
"I'm not violating anything in my contract."
Arms crossed and legs splayed wide, his manager sneered. "That contract's going away. The team is working on your next contract and you can sure as shit expect language forbidding you from engaging in dangerous activities in there this time around."
"What the hell?" Slade surged to his feet, fists clenched. No one told him how to live his life. Dom's hand tugged on the back of his jersey but Slade didn't budge.
"My team works my way." Dusty thumped his fist against his chest in emphasis. "When you signed your last contract, no one knew about your penchant for reckless behavior. I won't have that kind of risk hanging over my team."
"I've never been reckless. The activities I do actually help me to be more focused on the field. I think my performance there speaks for itself. If you're worried about injuries, more happen on the field than off. Maybe we should start wearing bubble wrap under our uniforms."
The old man's face reddened and his eyes could have shot daggers. "You're not irreplaceable. Remember that."
Dusty swaggered away.
"Fucking tyrant," Slade muttered.
Fortunately, his manager couldn't hear him. He was too busy yelling at the relief pitchers for goofing off too much in the bullpen last night.
Dom's elbow connected hard with Slade's ribs. "Watch yourself. He's not above having you ride the bench for the rest of the season."
Rubbing his side, Slade sank into his seat and glared at Dom. "I'd like to see him try. The fans would have a fit."
"He'll spin it so they'll be ticked off at you for not being able to put your team first."
"Not put the team first? Is that what you really think of me?" Slade fought through the red haze of anger.
"Hell, no. You know that. But don't forget, I have experience in being his target." Dom squinted one eye and furrowed his brows then planted a heavy hand on Slade's shoulder. "I get that you need to blow off steam. I don't think any player on this team doubts that you put the team first."
"Good."
Dom held up his hand. "But if you get hurt and it's not a baseball-related injury, the team doesn't have to pay you like they would if you got hurt in a game. And if you're hurt bad enough, you might not make it to your next contract."
"Yeah." That would suck. But not enough to make him stop. He wouldn't live his life confined by maybes and what ifs.
"If they do bench you, the bad press could make other teams less likely to want to sign you. You'd be labeled too big a risk. I've seen it happen. Remember that rookie who couldn't stop partying no matter how many times the team gave him chances and ultimatums? He's not playing for anyone now and he's only twenty-three. Played ball his whole life and his career is in the toilet because of his choices off the field."
"Whoa." Slade shook his head vehemently. "That's not going to happen to me."
"I hope not, and you know I'd go to bat for you with anything. But just be careful."
"I'm always careful. I don't take stupid chances."
"Maybe you should lay off the adrenaline junkie activities until after the season's over."
"No freaking way." He resisted that suggestion all the way down to the marrow of his bones. Those experiences filled him in a way he needed. He simply wasn't sure of any other way to keep himself from imploding.
Dom nudged his shoulder until Slade met his gaze. His dark eyes were serious. "I get why you need to do them. I'm suggesting you find an alternative."
Slade's shoulders sank. "What if there isn't an alternative?"
"Then we'll get you that virtual reality headset and you can go on any adventure you want from the safety of your own apartment."
"You mean the thing we saw in the infomercial last night? Turning geek on me?"
"Fuck off." Laughing, Dom chucked a handful of sunflowers seeds at his head. Slade ducked but not fast enough to avoid getting hit. "It's worth a try."
"I don't know, man. I guess."
"Or what about Savanna? You've been spending a lot of time with her."
"Yeah, doing things that Dusty probably wants to include on his list of fun activities to avoid."
"Rock climbing at a gym is pr
obably on the safe list."
Slade snorted. Not the way he did it. "She didn't like climbing that much. She liked the hot air balloon ride though. And I know she likes my bike." He shot a glance around the room, making sure Dusty was gone. "I'm not giving up that bike, Dom."
"I hope not. I helped you pick out a great one."
"Dusty can suck it. I'm not signing any contract I don't agree with either."
"Then lay low for a while and let him get fixated on someone else so he forgets about giving his suggestions to the front office."
Slade leaned his head against the wall. Laying low made sense. He didn't want problems with the team, didn't want to be released, picked up or traded away from Dom and Liam and Adam. Forming those relationships, trusting those guys, had taken a long time. "I'll try, but I can't make any guarantees."
"Then it's a good thing I'm here with you twenty-four-seven for the next two weeks. I'll help."
Dom would. Dom always did.
Slade's phone vibrated on the bench. He picked it up, expecting to see Liam's name.
Savanna: Good luck tonight.
He kept staring at the screen. Three little words, but damn, they were enough to completely brighten his day.
Dom tapped his arm. "What's up? You're grinning like someone just told you Dusty got fired."
"That would be a reason to celebrate." He twisted his wrist and flashed the screen of his cell phone. "Savanna sent a text."
Dom's lips quirked in a smile and he patted Slade on the back. "I like her. She's good for you. Don't worry, I'm not going to hover. I'll go and bother Adam."
Slade hunched over his phone, thumbs over the keypad.
Slade: Hi.
He backed that out and started over.
Slade: Thanks.
Then he added Miss you.
No, that would be too much, too soon. He'd only been gone for six days. He moved his finger to the delete key but it brushed Send.
The sent message bubble popped onto the screen. Out there. For her to see.
Enamored Page 9
