All of Me

by Jennifer Bernard

  Crush Taylor’s bruised face filled the screen. “It was a long time coming. I’m proud of the Catfish, and the Friars should be too. I take full responsibility for what happened. I’ll pay for all damages and all medical bills. And if the Friars or the league wants to punish anyone, it should be me. No one else.”

  Caleb was on his feet, the coffee spilling onto the pile of newspapers. A woman trampled underfoot. Had Sadie been there? No. It couldn’t be her. What were the chances? There were hundreds, thousands of girls more likely to be at the Roadhouse that night than Sadie.

  But she hadn’t answered any of his calls or texts. Not one.

  He fumbled for his phone and called Sadie again. Once more it went to voice mail. Mike Solo’s did the same. He didn’t have Crush Taylor’s number or any of the other guys on the team. But he had Sadie’s friend Donna’s number somewhere in his phone.

  By the time he finished scrolling through two weeks’ worth of calls, he was about ready to tear his hair out. One of the assistant coaches came into the clubhouse and gave him a curious look. “Something wrong, Hart?”

  “I think my . . .” What was Sadie? His girlfriend? The woman he loved but might have lost for good? “. . . girl might be hurt. I need to fly down to Kilby.” He started calculating travel times and flights. No direct flights to Kilby from San Diego, but with luck he could get a red-eye into Houston and be there by late tomorrow morning.

  “Did you call the hospital?”

  This from Alex Stenholder, the right fielder, who was folding his long body onto the couch opposite him. Where had he come from? Caleb looked around. The clubhouse had started to fill with players. Game time was in a couple of hours and the guys were showing up for batting practice and their pregame rituals.

  Caleb raked a hand through his hair. Terror pounded in his veins. This morning he’d been afraid he’d lost her love, but he’d never really doubted his ability to win her back. But if she was hurt, injured . . . God knew how badly . . . that changed everything. That could be . . . life or death.

  Just then his phone rang. A Kilby number, one he didn’t recognize. Oh God, what if it was the hospital . . . a doctor . . . Hands shaking, he answered the call with a grunt instead of a “Hello.”

  “Is this Caleb Hart?” The woman’s voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. His sense of dread deepened so that it felt as if everything was happening in slow motion.

  “Yes.” He managed.

  “This is Brenda Merritt, Sadie’s mother. I thought you might want to know that she’s in the hospital.”

  The world turned ice cold. “Is . . . is she okay?”

  “She’s still unconscious.”

  But she was alive. He hung onto that thought with all his might. “I’m coming. Right away.”

  “If I hadn’t been at work, I would have told her not to go. Those Wades—” Her voice broke. “I told her to stay away from men. I guess I just sound like a broken record these days. I almost didn’t call you, except I know my daughter cares for you. And I’m hoping you’re different.”

  “I am. Completely different.” He’d spend the rest of his life proving it if he had to. “I’m on my way.”

  “Kilby Community Hospital. Room 203. The doctors say she should come out of it soon. If she doesn’t . . .” Her voice shuddered with sobs; it sounded as if she’d been crying nonstop.

  “She will,” he said fiercely, trying to transmit all his determination to her. “She will. I’ll be there soon. Just hang on.”

  “I hope I did the right thing, calling you,” she said fretfully. “She seemed pretty upset. Really shook me up. I hated seeing my baby like that.”

  “I’m going to fix it. And Mrs. Merritt, thank you. Thank you for giving me another chance.” He hung up. Kilby Community Hospital. What was the quickest way to get there? He was scanning through the flight options on his travel app when he realized the assistant coach was standing before him.

  “Suit up, Hart. Pitching coach wants you to throw a bullpen today.”

  “Coach, I have to get to Kilby. I need some personal time. Just a couple days. I’ll be back in time for my next start.” Maybe. If Sadie were well enough.

  The coach, an imposing African-American named Tony Blaine who’d spent his entire career in the Friars organization, glowered at him. “You just got here, Hart. You’re supposed to be in the dugout for every goddamn game until Sullivan gets back. You really want to mess with this?”

  He could catch a flight to Houston in two hours if he left now. He clicked Purchase.

  “I have to go, Coach.”

  “This is your career you’re tanking. You can’t just walk away. You need permission from the front office. I’m on your side here, son.”

  But Blaine wasn’t on his side. He was in his way. He couldn’t wait for permission. He had to be on that plane. Too much time had already passed. “What if I got suspended?”

  If a player got suspended, he wasn’t allowed in the clubhouse or anywhere in the ballpark—he couldn’t even wear his uniform.

  “Suspended. For what?”

  The big right fielder, Stenholder, rose to his feet and ambled toward them. “I can think of something.” He gestured to his stomach and nodded at Caleb, who shook his head, confused. The other ballplayer winked and pointed to a spot on his stomach. Really? He wanted him to . . . ? Without thinking too much more about it, Caleb strode forward and planted his fist in the outfielder’s taut, muscled gut, right where he’d pointed.

  “Two day suspension!” roared the coach. “Get out of here, Hart, and don’t come back until Friday.”

  The coach shook his head at Stenholder, who doubled over in fake pain. He’d clenched his muscles so tight, it would have taken a bullet to hurt him. Caleb clapped a hand onto the man’s back as he motored out of the clubhouse. The last thing he heard was the right fielder telling the coach, “I have a romantic streak, what can I say?”

  Sadie surfaced through layers of pain. Even unconscious, she’d been tortured by painful images of Caleb, mocking her, kissing her, tossing her aside, turning away. Then Hamilton had joined in, pointing at her and laughing. Crowds of people backed him up like a herd of hyenas. As she slowly came to, the taunting visions gave way to physical pain. Her leg ached and throbbed, her head felt about twice its normal size, and, in fact, she couldn’t locate a part of her body that didn’t hurt.

  Even her eyes stung as she dragged them open. Her mother sat nearby, reading a tabloid. For a moment Sadie simply watched her, taking in her mother’s disheveled ponytail and rumpled blouse. The clothes she wore when she worked at Kroger. She looked exhausted. Had she left work to come tend to her?

  A tear ran down her cheek, then another. Even the tears hurt her sensitized skin. She must have made a sound, because her mother looked up quickly. “Sadie! You’re awake.” She tossed aside the magazine—Sadie caught a headline about Jennifer Aniston—and hurried to the side of the bed. “How . . . how do you feel? I should call the nurse. They’ve been saying you’d wake up soon.”

  She sounded so tentative, so anxious. One flap of her blouse was untucked and she’d smeared cream cheese on the side of her skirt. Okay, so her mother wasn’t put together and polished like Mayor Trent, but Sadie’s heart swelled with love for her. “Sorry,” she croaked.

  Her mother’s forehead creased. “For what, honey?”

  “Should have listened to you.” God, her body ached. “What happened to me?”

  Brenda crossed to the Call button and pressed it. “The nurse should probably explain everything, but you’re going to be fine. The worst thing is that your right leg is broken. You’ll be in a cast for about six weeks.”

  Cast. That big white thing suspended in the air above her bed, with her leg inside. Hey, leg. You doing okay in there?

  “Oh.” Her thoughts were moving so sluggishly and weirdly. “It hurts.”

  “Do you need more morphine? You can press that button right there. It’s set so you can’t over
dose.”

  “Is that why . . . can’t think?”

  “Probably. But you don’t have to think, sugarpie. Just rest.”

  Fatigue tugged at her like a friend who wanted to play. Friend . . . “Donna? Okay?”

  “I am not happy with Donna MacIntyre right now. But she’s fine. When she saw you fall to the floor, she yelled bloody murder. That’s when the fire department came.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mom. I should have listened.” Her chaotic thoughts careened from one sad topic to another. If she hadn’t gone to the Roadhouse . . . if she hadn’t been trying to forget Caleb . . . if she’d never gotten involved with Caleb . . . if she’d never accepted a date with Hamilton . . . if she’d never . . . She lost track of the thought, her gaze fixated on a vase that held a bouquet of bright sunflowers with rust-colored centers. The petals glowed with life against the pale beige of the hospital walls.

  “I called Caleb.”

  Sadie dragged her attention back to her mother, who was looking a little blurry. She had to repeat the words in her mind, because at first they didn’t make sense. Her mother called Caleb? Why would she do that? “What?”

  “I thought you would want him to know.”

  Tentacles of exhaustion wrapped around her, but she fought against them. “Why?”

  “Because I think you really love him, and he loves you.”

  “No,” she managed, each word like dredging her feet through a mucky swamp. “Doesn’t.”

  “He’s on his way here.”

  Sadie struggled to sit up. “Don’t want. Don’t let him in.”

  “Honey, listen to me.” Her mother hurried to her side and pressed her back down to the bed, which took shockingly little effort. “I was wrong. You shouldn’t judge everyone in the world by Hamilton Wade. Or by your father. I know your father did what he could. Hamilton, that’s a different story. He’s bad, Sadie, bad to the bone. And he’s been raised spoiled. But your Caleb, he’s not like that. I should have kept my mind more open and not tried to scare you away from every single boy who came along. Caleb’s good for you. You’re more like your old self with him, full of life and laughter. More like my Wonder-girl.”

  “No.” Sadie shook her head, trying to dislodge the hand her mother had fastened on her shoulder. How could she explain that her mom had been absolutely right, and that Caleb was just like Hamilton? That he’d plunged a knife into her heart and then twisted it with that horrible look of contempt?

  “I know something happened between you two, but I bet you can work it out. Seeing you the way you’ve been the past couple of days really woke me up, Sadie. You’ve been stayin’ in Kilby for me, haven’t you? I’ve been holding you back. Keeping you in this town even when it isn’t good for you. Keeping you from doing what you really want.”

  “Mom . . .”

  “You don’t need to take care of me, Sadie. I’m not going to let you. I’m going to take of myself so you don’t have to worry, and you’re going to go to law school like you want. Caleb’s on his way and when Caleb gets here, I sure hope you’ll listen to him.”

  Caleb. On his way here. Her heart raced at the thought of him walking through that door.

  The door opened and someone charged in. Not Caleb, but a nurse. “What’s going on here?” He went straight to the monitors, which were bleeping like mad. “How long has she been awake?”

  Sadie grabbed at the nurse’s wrist. “Don’t . . . let . . . Caleb . . . in.”

  He gave her a worried look, adjusted something in the IV, and Sadie finally lost the battle. Sleep reached up and swallowed her whole.

  Chapter 29

  “WHAT DO YOU mean, she doesn’t want to see me?” Caleb couldn’t believe he’d traveled ten hours and potentially torpedoed his career only to hit a roadblock right outside her door.

  “You’re Caleb, right? She was pretty clear,” explained the nurse, a young African-American man who looked to be in his mid-twenties, with a lightning bolt shaved into his hair. “About blew her stitches making sure I knew.”

  Caleb scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “Yeah, she’ll be fine, eventually. But she doesn’t need any more drama-trauma, know what I mean? Getting trampled is bad enough. Then we got people coming here trying to make amends or whatever the hell else y’all are tryin’ to do.” The man was jotting down notes on a clipboard right outside Room 203. Just past that door lay Sadie. So close Caleb could feel her in every pore, but still so far.

  “I just want to see her.” He eyed the young man. “Any chance you’re a baseball fan?”

  “Don’t even go there, dude.”

  “Football?” This was Texas, after all.

  “You know how many concussions we get in here from football? Hell no.”

  “Basketball?” He knew guys in just about every pro sport played in America.

  “You tryin’ to bribe me? How’s this for a mind-blower. I don’t even like sports. So you’d better start gettin’ creative.”

  Creative . . . creative . . . “Are you a fan of romance?”

  The guy cocked his head, finally showing a spark of interest. “I do like a cute romantic comedy now and then. Good escape after a long shift. Go on, work it, my friend.”

  My friend. That was better than dude.

  Caleb cleared his throat. “The only girl I’ve ever loved, and the only girl I ever will love, is in that room. She doesn’t want to see me because I acted like a major league dick. But I know she loves me too, and if you’d just let me in so I can apologize—”

  “Let him in.” A quiet voice interrupted. Brenda Merritt had opened the door a crack. She beckoned to Caleb. “Really. It’ll be okay,” she reassured the nurse. “I promise.”

  Caleb didn’t give Brenda a chance to change her mind. He slipped past her into the quiet beige room with the blinking monitors and the pervasive smell of disinfectant. On the bed lay Sadie, her dark hair rippling across the pillow, her face like something out of a nightmare. Her right cheek looked like a baby eggplant, purple and globular. Butterfly bandages held together the edges of a gash across her forehead. One leg, encased in layers of plaster, was propped on a pile of pillows.

  God damn it.

  He turned wildly to Brenda, who had just slipped back into the room and closed the door. “What did they do to her?”

  “There was a fight at the Kilby Roadhouse. She slipped and someone fell on her leg.”

  “How could that happen?”

  “Shh.”

  He hadn’t even realized that he’d been yelling. “Sorry.” He clamped his jaw shut and stalked to the window, staring out at the overcast early morning sky. If he let his mouth open again, he didn’t know what would come out. Some sort of howl of anguish, probably.

  “Listen, I’m going to get some coffee,” Brenda Merritt said. “She’ll be out for a little while longer, I think. Do you want anything?”

  Yes. A time machine so he could go back in time and fix this. He’d refuse to leave Kilby unless she came with him. She’d stay by his side where he could keep her safe. Nothing would ever hurt her again, except . . .

  He had hurt her.

  Agonized by that thought, he whirled around. Brenda was gone, the door just drifting shut. He dropped to his knees next to Sadie’s bed and rested his forehead on the crisp bedcover.

  “Sadie, I love you. I love you with every bonehead corner of my heart. I can’t believe I acted the way I did. I was wrong. I know that. I think I even knew it then, but I’m a stupid asshole about some things. I don’t like surprises, I’m not good with them. It’s a funny thing for a baseball player to say, since you never know what’s going to happen in a game. But baseball has rules, and life doesn’t. I got so used to stuff coming out of nowhere and biting me in the ass that I just believe the worst so I don’t get messed up. I like to think I’m in control, but when it comes to you, I might as well just throw that out the window.”

  He took her hand in his, just to feel her sk
in, even though he knew it wasn’t really right or fair. If she were conscious, she’d probably hit him with that hand. But the sensation of her soft, warm skin eased the fear that had stalked him all the way from San Diego. No matter what, she was alive.

  As long as she breathed, he still had a chance.

  “I know you can’t hear me, and if you could, I probably wouldn’t even say these things because I’m not good at saying what’s in my heart. I keep things inside, I know that. But here’s the truth. I’m completely crazy about you. I love you so much, maybe it will soak right through your skin and into your heart. Maybe you’ll wake up and know how much I love you. I should never have left without telling you. I should never have left, period. I belong with you, Sadie. Every second I was away from you felt empty and wrong. Even my first win as a Friar felt wrong. You should have been there. I kept thinking you were there, because I never stopped thinking about you, you were always there in my heart, every pitch I made. I know it probably sounds crazy, or it would if you could hear me, but—”

  “Only . . . little.”

  He jerked his head up. Sadie’s eyes were open—as open as they could be given the degree of swelling in her eyelids. But that precious Sadie sparkle danced in the dark brightness, and his heart cracked open.

  “You were listening?”

  “Yes. Wouldn’t miss that.” Her voice came slowly, more like the thick croak of a bull frog. But still, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

  “How much did you hear?”

  “Why? Take it . . . back?”

  He put her hand on his chest. “No way. I want to make sure you hear every word, and if you didn’t, I’ll repeat it over and over. I love you, Sadie. Did you catch that part?”

  She smiled, then winced. Her mouth looked so dry and parched. He glanced around and located a plastic cup of water with a straw in it. He held it to her lips so she could take a long sip. Finally, she nodded, and he took it away.

  “Sadie, I was terrible to you,” he said, very seriously. “You didn’t deserve it. I fucked up. I don’t have any excuse, except I have a real problem with trust. I haven’t trusted anyone outside of Tessa and the boys for a very, very long time. I trusted you, and when I thought you’d betrayed me, I lost my mind for a while. I was wrong, flat out wrong. I’m sorry. What’s it going to take for you to forgive me?”