Two women sat on the left of me.
They were dressed to impress.
“How’s it goin’?” One of the lovelies asked when I made eye contact with her. She had a big smile and even bigger breasts. The shirt she wore didn’t hide that there wasn’t any bra holding her blessings from spilling out.
Oh damn, these railings . . . Yet, here I am sitting among women I've judged, and in the life of one of the men I've categorized negatively for the way he handled his past. Maybe I have more in common with them than I'm willing to admit.
"I'm doing great, and you?" I retorted.
“Peaches, sweetie.” She tossed her hair. “Are you the daughter of somebody important?”
“Just a fan whose friend had an extra ticket.” I smiled, thinking about my luscious man.
“Some friend.” It was as if her whole body shook in all the right places whenever she spoke. “You can’t get tickets for these seats anywhere—they're expensive.”
“Are you related to anyone on the team?” I closed my journal.
“No. I know several of the ballplayers,” she replied with a wink.
“Who?” Immediately I was sorry I had asked.
Didn't you learn from the other night when you kept probing Dana for more?
I felt like closing my eyes and covering my ears so I didn’t hear her. I really didn’t want to know—but on the other hand, I really did.
“Well . . .” she paused.
When will I learn to shut-up?
“Austin, Henry, Willie—"
"Willie's her favorite," the other informed.
"He's sweeeeet," she giggled. "I’ve been with a few of them.”
“Been with?” I asked.
“You know what I mean,” she snorted. “You’re not that young."
Please don’t name Ryan.
“God, there’s nothing like a jock to . . ." She laughed seductively and took out a compact to reapply her lipstick.
“So I’ve heard," I shrugged my shoulders.
Oh shit . . . please just stop talking now before I hear things.
“I can’t seem to stay away. Their long legs, big bodies, experience . . . it's all so," she licked her lips. "You know what I mean. I’m addicted.” Her hands were expressive.
"Okay." I looked away hoping she'd stop.
“Now, I see that look in your eye, missy. Don’t judge me ‘til you try one.”
“Believe me, I’m not judging you.” It was easy to reflect on my own choices. I tried to tune her out. It didn't take long for me to fall into my habit of detaching so I could protect myself. I smiled at her moving lips, but didn't hear the words.
Lowering my gaze once more to the books that had been my anchor growing up, I continued with my journal writing. I listened without wanting to and watched them wave to some of the ballplayers without wanting to see.
Several visits from the men I knew on the team—Matt, Darrell, and Kevin—brought unwanted attention my way. When Ryan came to the railing I thought the women next to me might lose their cookies.
“Writing something hot for me?” He grabbed the railing with both of his big hands.
“It is hot! And accurate!" I was sure his blue eyes made me blush. "Look! I got my scorecard! I’m ready to mark down all the strikeouts you’ll get in the ninth."
"My girlfriend keeping score. Cool."
"Thanks for asking me to come today, Ryan. I’m glad I said yes. I just love baseball.”
“It’s great knowing you’re right here." The attraction buzzed between us. “I love that you’re just a touch away. All I have to do is look back to see your green eyes and lovely smile . . . it’s beyond what I can express right now.”
“You’re out of words?” I mocked.
“You do that to me.” His voice was flavored with a soft rasp. “You know what?”
“What?” I smiled that he’d picked up one of my phrases.
“When I’m away—” He leaned close. “I’ll think about you and the way you taste every day.” He put his finger in his mouth, mimicking our sweet night together.
“Oh . . . damn.” I was sure my entire body heated.
What am I supposed to say?
He laughed and then went back into the dugout, leaving my body twisting in delicious turmoil.
“OMG, do you know the whole team?” One of the women asked that sat next to me.
“I cheer with my friends here on Fridays and Saturdays."
“Oh, that’s what it is." She looked at her friends and they nodded their heads. "We wondered. You’re cute, but you don’t exactly . . .” she trailed off.
“What about Ryan Tilton?" The second woman scooted forward. "He’s single and we haven’t seen him with a regular girl. You obviously have an in with him. Can you hook up a sistah?”
“Coincidentally . . .” I fumbled, afraid of the gorgeous, mature women around me; the same ones I knew were the type that should be with Ryan. “He’s—” Force the words, Nick. Women need to be told directly. Don’t let them wonder—you just told Ryan the same thing—so say it. "He's my boyfriend.”
“Sure he is,” one woman said and then she and her friends went into mock hysterics.
“In your dreams—you and your sweatshirt and sneakers,” another added. “You’re a good bull shitter, though. Who knows? In a few years you might have access to a nice buffet.”
My Evil Twin poked at me, relentlessly insisting that I speak up.
Don’t go down that easy. Show them a woman in sweats can have a boyfriend like Ryan.
I battled my feelings. On the one hand I didn't want to prove anything. Nor did I want to use Ryan to validate my fragile ego. On the other—I'd hid all my life in shadows, allowing the unfair acts and statements from others to pass by without challenging them.
That had to stop.
Now.
When the game was about to begin Ryan looked around to check on me. I motioned at him to come over.
“Would you do me a favor and tell these ladies to my left who I am to you? They want an introduction and a hookup. They don’t believe I’m your girlfriend.”
I saw his surprise and then his smile bloomed.
“This is my woman,” he answered without taking his eyes off of me. “Speaking strictly for myself, if you’re trying to connect with one of us, count me out.”
They whispered and walked up the stairs, perhaps embarrassed or rethinking their strategy.
“Thank you.” I put my hand on his. “They didn’t believe me. I had to prove to them—or maybe to myself, I don't know—sometimes their judgments can be wrong, that's all.”
“Why?” He looked up through his eyelashes.
“I wanted them to know you’re mine,” I said bashfully.
“You’re welcome.” Satisfaction seemed to cover his face. “Whenever you want to use me, ask.” He walked back to the dugout and stood against the railing in the line of manly men.
I wondered if I'd just used Ryan the same way I’d used Jerry? I had used each person for my own purpose—an end to a means. Had I used James? What about Ethan?
Are you really using anyone? Aren't you finally asking for what you need?
"I've been watching your team for over a year now." Cathy, one of the usherettes standing nearby, introduced herself. "The fans really enjoy it. You're all very good."
"Thank you, Cathy. It was such a whim, but on the other hand, I had the idea for over a year before I started the research. I'm so glad the Goliaths accepted my proposal. Stunned, really."
"I think Mr. Tilton is, too," she grinned.
"Oh, um . . . what do you—"
"I heard what he said to you,” she whispered. “I think you’re more than friends.”
I smiled. I could feel the rush of emotion my body was barely able to contain.
“Your eyes just lit up. You’re sweet for each other!"
Her positive remark made me feel good. There was no sex talk, nothing about going for it, or how hot he was. It was a simp
le statement about how she’d noticed the way Ryan and I had interacted with each other. I closed my journal after writing down the things she’d said and started watching the game.
As usual, when I didn't want something to end, it flew by.
The ninth inning was upon me.
Ryan came in to pitch.
By the time he was done, he'd chalked up another save and the Goliaths won the game. The boys of baseball congratulated each other with their high-fives and butt bumping routine and walked off the field.
I hung on to the last sounds and smells of the stadium, somehow hoping if I lingered, Ryan wouldn’t have to leave. I pretended this was just another game and afterward we would go back to his apartment together.
But that wasn't going to happen.
Most of the fans in my section had vacated their seats. Ryan came back out and stepped up to the railing. He was already in street clothes.
I was emotional at the thought of him leaving for ten days.
My eyes welled up immediately.
“Oh, Nicky." He laced my fingers with his. "Won't you come on this trip with me? Just for a few games, honey. Please. We’ll be going to Milwaukee, Atlanta, and Denver." His eyes begged me to give in. "Hey, if you want to come to Denver, we can visit the farm where I took that photo you like so much of the little boy and his rabbits. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“I do love that photo." He let me bring our hands to my chest. "Of course I’m fond of the photographer who took it, too.” I sniffled. “I’m dying to give you a big smooch goodbye.”
“Me, too. I'd better go." He let go of me. "We’re taking off for the airport as soon as everyone is ready and I don't want them waiting on me, so . . . I’ll, uh . . .” He put his head down.
“Miss me?” I finished his thought.
“You know I will." His smile was wide and beautiful and his eyes seemed full of dreams.
“I’ll miss you, too.” My voice trailed off. I had to look away. Tears spilled down my cheeks. “Don’t forget to text or call me.”
“I’m crossing my fingers, hoping to see you and your sister in a few days. I’d love to kiss you on the lips right now.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Bye, sweet Nicky.”
“Bye, my Ryan,” I watched him go into the dugout and then got up to leave. Several fans that were season ticket holders wanted to talk about the cheer team. I couldn’t say no. It was my obligation and I was happy to do it.
As I was talking, something began to gnaw in my gut.
I had to leave the ballpark.
I made my move.
“I’m rooting for you two.” Cathy stood next to me and put her hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you.”
Something had turned.
For the first time in my life I felt I could breath.
My beating heart sped up.
My body shifted into drive.
"I'm rooting for us, too," I admitted out loud.
An overwhelming feeling collared me and seemed to pull me out of the stadium.
“Get out now.” A whisper softly blew in my ear. Perhaps it was my Evil Twin, or perhaps it was intuition. I knew I had to follow it.
My insides raced.
My mind whirred and circled.
My chest tightened.
I had to hurry.
I had to get out.
Ryan.
I threw my backpack over my shoulder and ran halfway up the stairs, stopping only to grab my beeping cell phone.
A text from Jerry: I’m back. At M gate. Where are you?
Oh, crap, no!
My entire body thudded.
My heart, my mind, my whole body gave in to the desperate moment—I had to get to the man who had brought me to life.
I quickly decided to ignore my childhood friend but then, knew I had to answer. He might walk around the entire stadium, only to find me in Ryan’s arms.
“Hey gorgeous!" Jerry's voice danced with excitement. "I’m back early! I called your house and your mom said you were at the ballpark. I couldn’t wait to surprise you. Where are you?”
Mom! How could you tell him? I have to tell Ryan I want to come on his road trip! He needs to know I love him!
“I’m, uh—” I stumbled, wanting only to rush in the player’s lot and shout my love to the man who held me in his soul.
“I’ll meet you," he pushed. "Tell me where.”
No! I need to hug my love goodbye!
“I haven’t left the ballpark; I’m taking care of some stuff in management’s offices and I'll be a while yet.”
“Should I come to the Bay Gate and wait?” His voice was heightened. He was obviously excited.
“No!" I shouted my response. "I’ll meet you at the gift shop."
“Everything okay?”
“I’ll be there shortly.” I hung up before he could ask another question. Now, all I could think about was getting to Ryan.
Emotions that would no longer be silenced flooded through me.
The joy of love rose up from deep in my heart demanding release. I finally admitted I want more of Ryan Tilton!
I felt open and exposed in a way I had never imagined possible. I was ready to allow myself a chance to enjoy the raw beauty I knew I could have, surrendering to the feelings that burned inside me. Hundreds of love letters circled in my head and around my heart. The euphoria I felt for my new boyfriend pulsed in every vein, filled every thought and every wish.
Just as suddenly as the bliss filled me, panic took its place.
He's leaving! No more kisses, bright, blue eyes, or wry smiles.
Once again, my Evil Twin tugged at my body.
Go and claim your man! Plant your feet and grab this moment! Refuse to live the same life your father chose and your mother accepted.
Could I actually embrace him in front of his teammates, the public, and his fans? Or would I run again, afraid of another situation that was too complex to handle, overanalyzing and letting fear fill me?
If our new relationship was going to work, I knew I had to believe and trust Ryan wholeheartedly.
I needed to give in to him as he had given in to me.
The refrain that had begun so quietly several weeks earlier now rang out: “Trust this, trust him, trust yourself."
I had to get to Ryan to embrace him, kiss him, hug him, and, yes, I had to tell him, out loud and without fear—I LOVE YOU!
My walk increased in speed.
Turned into a run.
As I came to the players’ lot, I saw the team’s equipment, luggage, garment bags, and other belongings being loaded on to the bus. Most of the staff, players, and coaches were already inside. Busy hands checked lists on clipboards and called out various orders to assistants.
Every sound at the stadium called, Ryan.
Every person that walked by whispered: Ryan.
The parking lot echoed: “Ryan is leaving! Go to him!”
When I was almost to the gate, I turned to see Ryan waving.
There’s still time!
His expression was filled with joy, waiting to see what I was going to do.
Fumbling for my gate pass, I walked toward the security guard, ready to present it, ready to reveal everything to him . . . my love.
Then—I stopped as if I’d run into a wall.
A large hole in the ground had just opened.
I was close to falling inside of it.
Jerry.
Running.
Toward me.
Sure and certain I was coming for him.
He looked happy and ready to share all the things we talked about before he had left to play summer baseball. As far as he was concerned, our future lay ahead of us, ready to be explored.
A rip tore right down the middle of my mind and continued through my entire body, making me two women.
One about to meet a young man, a lifelong friend; his goals matched my own. We stood ready to share new experiences in life and sex—together. We were entering college—together. Wi
th Jerry, I was safe. I’d have control of our relationship. We shared a past and had a solid foundation. We knew about our darkness and loved each other in spite of it. I could reveal myself to him and he wouldn’t leave or judge me.
Wouldn’t we be perfect for each other?
Wasn’t that what I craved?
After years of the drama and anger that filled my household I'd only wanted evenness, and leveled consistency. Jerry was part of that.
The other woman had fallen in love with a successful, soon to be twenty-six-year-old man—a professional baseball player. He’d already gone to college and had accomplished many of his goals.
Ryan had achieved social standing, was experienced with sex and seemed ready for a commitment. He stood ready to embrace all the things that would make his life more complete.
I'd claimed him as my boyfriend.
Would I be the only one experiencing new things in our relationship? Wouldn't being with him mean sacrifice and giving up part of what I wanted from my college experience?
He would discover my darkness. Wouldn't he run like hell?
We were unknown and mysterious to each other.
Beautiful and intriguing.
Frightening and magnificent.
I felt a completely different life could be possible with Ryan.
But was it? Really?
Was I only kidding myself?
Could I escape the prison in which generations of my family had been held captive?
My mind spun so fast, I could barely move.
Jerry closed in.
Ryan waved.
Jerry yelled. His arms opened for the hug he expected. There was so much hope in his eyes. The world awaited us.
It was in that moment an answer unexpectedly flashed.
Finally, it all made sense.
What had I been thinking?
It was simple.
I knew what I had to do.
The prison gates were opening.
Finally, I would be free from my shadows.
My heart beat hard as if one thousand drums pounded inside my chest.
I walked fast.
Jogged.
Broke into a run.
Moved through the crowd, dodging and avoiding children, parents, friends, desperate to get to him.
The grin on Jerry’s face was incredibly welcoming.
Who I wanted was so clear. The one I’d always wanted.
From the very beginning, he was the one who could open everything and help me see a life I hadn't envisioned before him. He would meet my needs and help me feel secure.
Jagged Heart (Broken Bottles Series Book 3) Page 27
